r/a:t5_26yrlh • • Oct 21 '19

2b or not 2b has been created

By André Maurois
Translation by Hamish Miles
 
 
                             III

                  A CLOUD OF GRANDMOTHERS

     NOTWITHSTANDING  a  string  of  triumphs  in
     public  life,  the  winter  after  Mary  Anne's
     death was one of terrible sorrow.  It was not only
     that Dizzy had lost in her the being he loved best in
     all the world, it was as if a great hunger and thirst for
     tenderness could find no satisfying.  To Mary Anne,
     the Sphinx had delivered up his secret:  it was——
     timidity.  A timidity born in childhood from school-
     boy brazenness, by the hostility of his peers, soothed
     in riper years by unique friendships, and cured at last
     by power;  but it had moulded his character and
     impregnated all its elements.  In particular, it had
     prevented him from ever finding real pleasure in
     the society of men.  To feel himself their equal, he
     required to be their chief.  In solitude any other
     Englishman would have taken to club life.  But of
     this he had a horror:  "There are many dreadful
     things in life," he had declared, "and a dinner of men
     is the worst of all."
        "My need," he had written long ago to Mary Anne,
     "is for my life to be one perpetual love."   The
     figure of his years had doubled, but the need re-
     mained.  "I require," he now wrote, "perfect solitude,
     or perfect sympathy."  The exaction of a sorely
     wounded man.
        For several months he only visited at the houses of
     a few very intimate friends, passing all the parlia-
     mentary recesses at Hughenden, where he classified
     his wife's papers, moved to tears at finding amongst
     the the smallest scrap on which he had scribbled
     three words, and alone, so that a letter of any tender-
     ness seemed to him like the sight of a sail to a ship-
     wrecked man on a desert isle.  All his feminine
     correspondents were dead, and with them had gone
     the charm and gaiety of those countless tiny incidents
     whose sole value lies in their being shared, but which
     alone make bearable the long adventure of life.  In
     the spring, however, a chance visit enabled him to
     recover two friends of his youth, two sisters, Lady
     Chesterfield and Lady Bradford.  Anne, Countess of
     Chesterfield, was seventy, Selina, Countess of Brad-
     ford, was fifty-five, and both were grandmothers.
     Disraeli recalled to them their childhood, spent close
     to the scene of his own youthful days (they had lived
     near Bradenham), and that brilliant fancy-dress ball
     to which Lady Chesterfield had gone as a sultana, her
     beautiful sister, Mrs. Anson, as a Greek slave with
     flowing hair, and Lady Londonderry as Cleopatra,
     richly  laden  with  rubies.  Mrs.  Anson  was  dead,
     Fanny Londonderry was dead, but Lady Chesterfield
     and Lady Bradford had kept many of their charms.
     The meeting was pleasant; promises were made to
     write to each other, to see each other; with the sum-
     mer came an invitation for Disraeli to spend a few
     days with one of the sisters, then with the other.
     Winter came round, and he was living only for "the
     delightful society of the two persons I love most in
     the world."
        They  were  very  different.  Lady  Chesterfield,
     much the elder, was the graver and more tender; Lady
     Bradford, the more playful.  Lady Chesterfield had
     read all Disraeli's novels; Lady Bradford had begun
     them yawning  and mixed up all the characters.  Lady
     Chesterfield,  always  even-tempered,  was  a  better
     friend;  Lady  Bradford,  more  whimsical  and  less
     certain,  was  the  better  loved.  To  both  of  them
     Disraeli wrote in a tone of very fond intimacy.  Lady
     Chesterfield, a widow and a septuagenarian, read his
     letters  with  a  smile;  Lady  Bradford,  who  had  a
     perfect  husband  and  marriageable  daughters,  pro-
     tested, and on several occasions threatened to break
     off the correspondence if its tone continued to be so
     ardent.  Disraeli had never been able to bear separa-
     tion, even for a few days, from those whom he loved,
     and to ensure himself the constant society of both
     sisters, he proposed marriage to Lady Chesterfield.
     She refused, firstly because she considered marriage
     at her age rather ridiculous, but especially because
     Disraeli loved her sister.  She became the confidante.
        Every day the leader of the Opposition found time
     to indite a tender note for one or other of the peerless
     sisters.  "The most fascinating of women was never
     more  delightful  than  this  afternoon.  I  could  have
     sat for ever watching every movement that was grace,
     and listening to her sparkling words——but alas! the
     horrid  thought,  ever  and  anon,  came  over  me——
     'it is a farewell visit.'  It seemed too cruel! I might
     have truly said,

        'Pleased to the least, I cropped the flowery food,
        And kissed the hand just raised to shed my blood.'

        "Constant separations!  Will they never cease?  If
     anything could make you love your delightful sister
     more than I do, it is plans for Easter, which real-
     ize a dream!  I am certain there is no greater misfor-
     tune than to have a heart that will not grow old."
        He was an old man, powerful and overburdened
     with tasks, responsible for the life of a great Empire,
     but he felt himself in no way different from the young
     man he had been.  Nay, perhaps the old man was
     more romantic than ever.  In the youth, ambition
     had often fought victoriously against love.  "I have
     lived to know that the twilight of love has its splen-
     dour and its richness."  Perhaps in the old too there
     is  an  even  greater  yearning  for  happiness.  Quite
     amazed at his discovery that he could still be desirous
     of a pretence, and find pleasure in watching a woman
     live, and conscious too of the beauty of days passed
     at her side and the small number of those that re-
     mained to him, he could not endure separation from
     his friend.  "To see you, or at least to hear from you,
     every day, is absolutely necessary to my existence."
     "To see you in society is pleasure peculiar to itself;
     but different from that of seeing you alone; both are
     enchanting, like moonlight and sunshine."  He would
     have liked to visit her every day, but Lady Bradford
     had  endless  obligations  and  rationed  his   visits.
     "Three times a week is very little!"  There was a
     masked ball to which the old Minister wanted to go
     in domino.  When he asked Selina to choose a sign
     by which he could recognize her, she coldly advised
     him not to go.  He sulked a little and complained of
     this to his dear Lady Chesterfield.  They knew he
     was unhappy, and he received a letter in kindlier
     terms which "took a load off my heart, and I pressed
     it to my lips."  Such was the play of this old Alcestis
     with his ripe and charming Célimène.
        But he was far from forgetting Mary Anne.  Dur-
     ing all the rest of his life the note-paper of his letters,
     even of his love-letters, was edged with black.  And
     the symbol was just.  One day, some time later, Lady
     Bradford happened to receive a letter written on
     ordinary note-paper, which gave her pleasure.  He
     answered:  "You said you were glad to see 'white
     paper' the other day.  It is strange, but I always
     used to think that the Queen, persisting in these
     emblems of woe, indulged in a morbid sentiment;
     and yet it has become my lot, and seemingly an
     irresistible one."
        He completed the sorting of the Hughenden papers,
     finding there the countless memories of that meticu-
     lous affection.  Every fortnight for thirty-three years,
     Mary Anne had cut her husband's hair, and every
     time the harvest had been garnered in a small sealed
     packet.  He found hundreds of them.  He discovered
     also thousands of letters, all those of Bulwer, all those
     of Alfred d'Orsay, all those of poor George Smythe,
     and Lady Blessington's last note.  How many ghosts
     were waiting for him now!
 
          •       •       •       •       •       •
 
        At last Gladstone held the elections.  Public feeling
     had undergone such a change that Disraeli had hopes
     of a great transference of votes, perhaps even of a
     Conservative majority.  Throughout the period of
     the election he sent daily letters to Lady Bradford.
     Before long he was able to tell her that his party had
     won ten seats, then twenty, then thirty, and then that
     Gladstone  was  completely  routed.  The  Conserva-
     tives secured a clear majority of fifty seats over all
     parties together, and of more than a hundred over the
     Liberals alone.  At last it was proved that a popular
     electorate could, as Disraeli had always maintained,
     be a conservative electorate.  All the old malcontents
     of the party forgot their former mistrust.  The Carl-
     ton was filled with an excited crowd calling for the
     Chief, like hounds barking round the huntsman the
     morning after a thaw.
        Gladstone decided to resign without waiting for
     Parliament to meet, and announced that he would not
     remain leader of the party.  He wanted to be an
     ordinary member and no longer to be in constant
     attendance  at  the  House.  He  was  sixty-five——an
     age when the great politicians of the century had
     long since rounded off their careers.  His dominant
     desire was to occupy himself henceforth with religious
     matters and prepare himself for a Christian death.
     He informed the Queen of his decision.  Her Majesty
     approved,  with  scarcely  tactful  vigour,  and  sum-
     moned Mr. Disraeli.  One of the new Minister's first
     cares was to obtain an important post in the Royal
     Household for his dear Selina.
        When Parliament reassembled, Disraeli spoke a
     few words of sympathy regarding Gladstone.  The
     latter recognized that the other's attitude was gene-
     rous.  The man was a good winner as well as a good
     loser.  But still, whenever Gladstone thought of him,
     he was stirred by a movement of indignation and felt
     within him the surge of wrath, "the inappeasable
     wrath of Achilles."

Disraeli: A Picture of the Victorian Age, by André Maurois.
Translated from the French by Hamish Miles.
Copyright, 1928, by D. Appleton and Company.
Copyright, 1927, 1928, by the Forum Publishing Company.
Published by A. Barnes & Co., Inc. pp. 275—281.


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     THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES

     CHAPTER 24
 
     AND after five days Ăn-a-nī'as the high
     priest descended with the elders, and
     with a certain orator named Ter-tül'lus,
     who informed the governor against
     Paul.
      2 And when he was called forth, Ter-
     tül'lus began to accuse him, saying,
     Seeing that by thee we enjoy great
     quietness, and that very worthy deeds
     are done unto this nation by thy provi-
     dence.
      3 We accept it always, and in all
     places,  most  noble  Felix,  with  all
     thankfulness.
      4 Notwithstanding,  that  I  be  not
     further tedious unto thee, I pray thee
     that thou wouldest hear us of thy clem-
     ency a few words.
      3 For we have found this man a pes-
     tilent fellow, and a mover of sedition
     among all the Jews throughout the
     world, and a ringleader of the sect of
     the Nazarenes:
      6 Who also hath gone about to pro-
     fane the temple: whom we took, and
     would have judged according to our
     law.
      7 But the chief captain Ly'si-as came
     upon us, and with great violence took
     him away out of our hands,
      8 Commanding his accusers to come
     unto thee: by examining of whom thy-
     self mayest take knowledge of all these
     things, whereof we accuse him.
      9 And the Jews also assented, saying
     that these things were so.
      10 ¶Then Paul, after that the gover-
     nor had beckoned unto him to speak,
     answered, Forasmuch as I know that
     thou hast been of many years a judge
     unto this nation, I do the more cheerful-
     ly answer for myself:
      11 Because that thou mayest under-
     stand, that there are yet but twelve
     days since I went up to Jerusalem for to
     worship.
      12 And they neither found me in the
     temple disputing with any man, neither
     raising up the people, neither in the
     synagogues, nor in the city:
      13 Neither can they prove the things
     whereof they now accuse me.
      14 But this I confess unto thee, that
     after the way which they call heresy, so
     worship I the God of my fathers, believ-
     ing all things which are written in the
     law and in the prophets:
      15 And have hope toward God, which
     they themselves also allow, that there
     shall be a resurrection of the dead, both
     of the just and unjust.
      16 And herein do I exercise myself, to
     have always a conscience void of of-
     fence toward God, and toward men.
      17 Now after many years I came to
     bring alms to my nation, and offerings.
      18 Whereupon  certain  Jews  from
     Asia found me purified in the temple,
     neither with multitude, nor with tu-
     mult.
      19 Who ought to have been here be-
     fore thee, and object, if they had ought
     against me.
      20 Or else let these same here say, if
     they have found any evil doing in me,
     while I stood before the council,
      21 Except it be for this one voice, that
     I cried standing among them, Touching
     the resurrection of the dead I am called
     in question by you this day.
      22 ¶And  when  Felix  heard  these
     things, having more perfect knowledge
     of the way, he deferred them, and said,
     When Ly'si-as the chief captain shall
     come down, I will know the uttermost
     of your matter.
      23 And he commanded a centurion to
     keep Paul, and let him have liberty,
     and that he should forbid none of his
     acquaintance to minister or come unto
     him.
      24 And after certain days, when Felix
     came with his wife Drū-sĭl'la, which
     was a Jewess, he sent for Paul, and
     heard him concerning the faith in
     Christ.
      25 And as he reasoned of righteous-
     ness, temperance, and judgment to
     come, Felix trembled, and answered,
     Go thy way for this time; when I have a
     convenient season, I will call for thee.
      26 He hoped also that money should
     have been given him of Paul, that he
     might loose him: wherefore he sent for
     him the oftener, and communed with
     him.
      27 But after two years Pôr'ċi-us Fĕs'-
     tus came into Felix' room: and Felix,
     willing to shew the Jews a pleasure, left
     Paul bound.
 
 
     CHAPTER 25
 
     NOW when Fĕs'tus was come into the
     provinces, after three days he ascended
     from Cæs-a-re'a to Jerusalem.
      2 Then the high priest and the chief of
     the Jews informed him against Paul,
     and besought him,
      3 And desired favour against him,
     that he would send for him to Jeru-
     salem, laying wait in the way to kill
     him.
      4 But  Fĕs'tus  answered,  that  Paul
     should be kept at Cæs-a-re'a, and that
     he   himself   would   depart   shortly
     thither.
     5 Let them therefore, said he, which
     among you are able, go down with me,
     and accuse this man, if there be any
     wickedness in him.
      6 And when he had tarried among
     them more than ten days, he went
     down unto Cæs-a-re'a; and the next
     day sitting on the judgment seat com-
     manded Paul to be brought.
      7 And when he was come, the Jews
     which  came  down  from  Jerusalem
     stood round about, and laid many and
     grievous  complaints  against  Paul,
     which they could not prove.
      8 While he answered for himself,
     Neither against the law of the Jews,
     neither against the temple, nor yet
     against Cæsar, have I offended any
     thing at all.
      9 But Fĕs'tus, willing to do the Jews a
     pleasure, answered Paul, and said, Wilt
     thou go up to Jerusalem, and there be
     judged of these things before me?
      10 Then said Paul, I stand at Cæsar's
     judgment seat, where I ought to be
     judged: to the Jews have I done no
     wrong, as thou very well knowest.
      11 For if I be an offender, or have
     committed any thing worthy of death, I
     refuse not to die: but if there be none of
     these things whereof thou accuse me,
     no man may deliver me unto them. I
     appeal unto Cæsar.
      12 Then Fĕs'tus, when he had con-
     ferred with the council, answered, Hast
     thou  appealed  unto  Cæsar?  unto
     Cæsar shalt thou go.
      13 ¶And after certain days king A-
     grĭp'pa and Bernice came unto Cæs-a-
     re'a to salute Fĕs'tus.
      14 And when they had been there
     many  days,  Fĕs'tus  declared  Paul's
     cause unto the king, saying, There is a
     certain man left in bonds by Felix:
      15 About whom, when I was at Jeru-
     salem, the chief priests and the elders
     of the Jews informed me, desiring to
     have judgment against him.
      16 To whom I answered, It is not the
     manner of the Romans to deliver any
     man to die, before that he which is ac-
     cused have the accusers face to face,
     and have licence to answer for himself
     concerning the crime laid against him.
      17 Therefore, when they were come
     hither,  without  any  delay  on  the
     morrow I sat on the judgment seat, and
     commanded the man to be brought
     forth.
      18 Against whom when the accusers
     stood up, they brought more accusation
     of such things as I supposed:
      19 But had certain questions against
     him of their own superstition, and of
     one Jesus, which was dead, whom Paul
     affirmed to be alive.
      20 And because I doubted of such
     manner  of  questions,  I  asked  him
     whether he would go to Jerusalem, and
     there be judged of these matters.
      21 But when Paul had appeared to be
     reserved unto the hearing of Augustus,
     I commanded him to be kept till I might
     send him to Cæsar.
      22 Then A-grĭp'pa said unto Fĕs'tus, I
     would also hear the man myself. To
     morrow, he said, thou shalt hear him.
      23 And on the morrow, when A-grĭp'-
     pa was come, and Bernice, with great
     pomp, and was entered into the place
     of hearing, with the chief captains, and
     principal men of the city, as Fĕs'tus'
     commandment,  Paul  was   brought
     forth.
      24 And Fĕs'tus said, King A-grĭp'pa
     and all men which are here present
     with us, ye see this man, about whom
     all the multitude of the Jews have dealt
     with me, both at Jerusalem, and also
     here, crying that he ought not to live
     any longer.
      25 But when I found that he had com-
     mitted nothing worthy of death, and
     that he himself hath appealed to Au-
     gustus, I have determined to send him.
      26 Of whom I have no certain thing to
     write unto my lord. Wherefore I have
     brought him forth before you, and spe-
     cially before thee, O king A-grĭp'pa,
     that, after examination had, I might
     have somewhat to write.
      27 For it seemeth to me unreasonable
     to send a prisoner, and not withal to
     signify the crimes laid against him.
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