of the whole series of Test Matches.

There remains the question whether the first class cricket of the future is to be watched by the connoisseurs only, who will appreciate the finesse of the game, or by the British public, ever keen to applaud a good stroke, a sharp run, or a fine piece of fielding, and quite ready to pay for the privilege of so doing? If by the former only, then it is a case of go-onas-you-are. If, however, the presence of the latter is desired in order that the game may pay its way, then cricket of a payable quality-the quantity is all there must be provided, and that can only be brought about by wise legislation. To expect oricket to compete with football as a spectacular game is wholly beside the mark, and to recall to the cricket ring the old-time crowds might prove to be as hard a task as to restore those lost legions of Varus. But at least some effort might be made to reinstate what we were once pleased to call a national game in something like its old place in the popular estimation, and to substitute a show of vivacity for the prevailing dulness.

But, it has been urged by the ultra-conservative party, if you once begin to tamper with the laws of cricket you will spoil the game. It is spoilt, we would reply, already. The true spirit of the game has gone; as played to-day it bears no resemblance whatever to the cricket of forty or fifty years ago. And the game played in

that palmy period was the outcome of timely legislation. First round-arm and then overhand bowling had been introduced and authorised things that would have been deemed heretical by our ancestors. Only one thing really requires to be provided against to-day-the interminable blooking of the game by the modern utilitarian player. Years ago we suggested one possible reform-so to limit the duration of an innings that the "blocker" would become an incubus on his side. And another alternative, long ago suggested in a letter to 'The Times' by an old and experienced cricketer, is thislet the umpire call "near" for every ball that passes within reach of the batsman, and if the batsman fails to touch it with his bat, let it score one run against him. Add to the wording of this rule "on the off-side " and to the penal clause that he who is ever "minus five" is ipso facto "out," and then perhaps we should get a bit forrarder.

In conclusion, is it any good to throw any more stones at poor old Lords, which may be described as closely resembling a chronic invalid, who on his best days feels perfectly well, on his worst is absolutely impossible? It is hard lines, we admit, on any ground to have to play two parts,—to be, that is, at once what may be called a national institution and a County ground. Heaven forfend, however, that Middlesex matches should be eliminated from the card-for Middlesex sometimes plays really bright

cricket. But inasmuch as the ground man at present seems to be required to provide match wickets for every day of the season, might it not be possible to relegate some of the M.C.C. minor matches to the practice ground, and allow the practice wickets for the nonce to be pitched in that comparatively little used far corner in the vicinity of the reporters' stand? Such fixtures as M. C. C. v. Dorset, &c., may be extremely interesting to the immediate supporters of the County engaged, but certainly do not draw such large crowds that reasonable accommodation may not be found in the region of the practice ground for the "gallery."

Also for it is annoying to go to headquarters with the view of watching cricket, and then find oneself reduced either to playing with the pavilion cat,

or studying the telegrams relating to play on other grounds, -if the turf in the centre of Lords is really in such a parlous condition as to be so

often unfit for play, cannot some remedy be found? While the chronic invalid requires care and delicate management, there is in the case of Lords a lurking suspicion of a tendency in the direction of hypochondriacism. But the invalid, let alone the hypochondriac, is often found to reap benefit from a change of air and scene. Why then not periodically effect an interchange of turf between the centre and the outside edges of the ground? The outside edges may be warranted to have escaped that amount of extra attention on the part of the heavy roller which is reputed in past years to have wrought havoc with the turf in the centre, and the fielder on the boundary is not given to be so particular about either pitch or foothold as the batsman and the bowler. May and June this year Lords suggested the idea of being an excellent site for a nursery of rose-trees. Unfortunately we happen to require it not for rose culture, but for cricket.

In

THE second volume of Mr Monypenny's 'Life of Benjamin Disraeli' (London: John Murray) is of a deeper interest than the first. What it has lost in the high spirits of adventurous youth it has gained in a grave consistency of purpose. In 1837, in which year the book opens, Disraeli had sowed the wild oats of romance, and none knew more confidently than he that the seeds of a wanton extravagance were to bring forth a rich harvest of political achievement. He had gained by a brilliant and deliberate eccentricity the goal of social success. And henceforth, until the end of his life, his eyes were fixed firmly upon the House of Commons. As member for Maidstone, as the colleague of Mr Wyndham Lewis, he claimed and won a consideration which did not belong to the bold candidate still wavering between a reckless Radicalism and the philosophic Toryism of Bolingbroke. But though the years of romance were finished, Disraeli still cherished an inveterate habit of picturesque optimism. Though the battle was by no means over, he saw himself always in the centre of the field, an easy victor. The demon of doubt never whispered a paralysing syllable in his ear. His home-letters still burn with a fiery confidence. He is conscious that all eyes are upon

him. He knows that he is singled out for particular favours. "The dinner to-day," says he, when as a member he is but a day old, "is merely a House dinner of 14-all our great men with the exception of Lord Ramsay and myself, the only two new members. It has occasioned some jealousy and surprise." If it was Disraeli's first Parliament, it was Queen Victoria's first Parliament also, and to the general surprise there was a division on the Address. took an hour, and Disraeli entered into it with all the zest of a novice. "I left the House at ten o'clock," thus he writes, "none of us having dined. The tumult and excitement great. I dined, or rather supped, at the Carlton with a large party off oysters, Guinness, and broiled bones, and got to bed at half-past twelve o'clock. Thus ended the most remarkable day hitherto of my life."

It

The enthusiasm is characteristic. He found every day remarkable, and the last the most remarkable of them all. He took up politics, as he took up society, with a light heart and an iron hand, and his triumph was ensured. It was not the least of his good fortune that his maiden speech, delivered on December 7, 1837, should have been received with an unparalleled demonstration

long ago claimed the place in history which it will never surrender. It was an Irish debate, and Disraeli deliberately elected to follow O'Connell, his ancient enemy. "We shall meet again at Philippi' -this had been his challenge, and at Philippi they stood face to face. He attacked his ancient enemy in the admirable phrases of which he was master. O'Connell's speech

was

"a rhetorical medley." O'Connell's subscription was "a project of majestic mendicancy." If Disraeli's dandyism lost him the sympathy of many even in his own party, his spirited attack upon O'Connell roused a storm of fury among the Irish. "Hisses, groans, hoots, eat-calls, drumming with the feet, loud conversation, and imitation of animals,' we are told, greeted every one of his sallies. Throughout it all he remained unperturbed. Not for one moment was his temper ruffled. Whenever there was an interlude of silence he spoke another period of his prepared speech in a cold, even, relentless voice. He twitted the noble Tityrus of the Treasury Bench and the learned Daphnis of Liskeard, and he painted a famous picture of Lord John Russell "from his pedestal of power wielding in one hand the keys of St Peter and waving with the other______” The sentence was never completed, but Disraeli was not slow to inform his friends that had he been allowed to proceed he would have put in

VOL. CXCII.—NO. MOLXVI.

Henceforth Disraeli's place in the House was assured. A respectable speech, delivered and heard in silence, might have been his undoing. The hostility of the Irish had assured him a brilliant effect. Henceforth he was familiar to every gossip in the kingdom as the man who had been shouted down and had not winced at the at the punishment. For a moment, it is true, even his own serener confidence was shaken, but for a moment only. A breath of encouragement speedily blew away the cobwebs of his doubt. Chandos congratulated him in the lobby. "I replied," writes he to his sister, "that I thought there was no cause for congratulations, and muttered Failure!' 'No such thing,' said Chandos; 'you are quite wrong. I have just seen Peel, and I said to him, "Now, tell me exactly what you think of D." Peel replied, "Some of my party are disappointed and talk of failure. just the reverse. He did all that he could do under the circumstances. I say anything but failure; he must make his way.'

I say

Where Peel led, the others followed. Lyndhurst made light of the bullying of the Radicals. He was sure that Disraeli "would have the courage to have at them again." 3 K

But the man whose eulogy most warmly gratified the orator was Shiel. "Now, gentlemen," said Shiel in Bulwer's hearing, "I have heard all you have to say, and, what is more, I heard this same speech of Mr Disraeli, and I tell you this if ever the spirit of oratory was in a man, it is in that man. Nothing can prevent him being one of the first speakers in the House of Commons [great confusion]. Ay! I know something about that place, I think, and I tell you what besides, that if there had not been this interruption, Mr Disraeli might have made a failure. I don't call this a failure, it is a crush. My début was a failure, because I was heard, but my reception was supercilious, his malignant. A début should be dull. The House will not allow a man to be a wit and an orator unless they have the credit of finding it out." It was a generous appreciation, which led to a friendship and much good counsel. Shiel, a master of Parliamentary tactics, not only praised Disraeli, he advised him: "Get rid of your genius for a session," said he. . . . "Speak often, for you must not show yourself cowed, but speak shortly.... Quote fig. ures, dates, calculations. And in a short time the House will sigh for the wit and eloquence which they all know are in you." Never was better advice given, nor more wisely received. The next time Disraeli spoke in the House he was careful to

be dull.

Among the many reproaches

hurled at Disraeli at the outset of his career was the charge of political inconsistency. He was denounced for a renegade on a hundred platforms. His early adventures in the cause of Radicalism were recalled to his mind with a pompous iteration, Yet Disraeli was more sternly consistent than any of his colleagues or rivals. He was from the beginning a disciple of Bolingbroke, and a disciple of Bolingbroke he remained unto the end. From the doctrine of Tory Democracy he never wavered. He was unalterable in his opposition to the Whiggish oligarchy. He fought the selfishness of the greedy middleclass with all the weapons of his forensic eloquence. "I look upon the Whigs as the antiNational party," he had said on the hustings at Taunton, and he repeated the phrase with variations again and again. In 1840 he assured Charles Attwood that he had worked for no other object and no other end than to aid the formation of a national party. "I entirely agree with you," he wrote, "that an union between the Conservative Party and the Radical masses offers the only means by which we can preserve the Empire." And the consistency of Disraeli came from no desire to entrench himself against attack. He was consistent, because before all things he was a political philosopher. For him the division bell was not the one and only excuse of statesmanship. He accepted the House of Commons, with its rules of procedure and its passion of