Even his smile was half inward.

The irony of life, and of his own position, was a subject of inexhaustible amusement to him.
There was nothing in his nature low, sordid, or petty.

It was not money, nor rank, but power which he coveted, and at which he aimed.
Irreproachable in domestic life, faithful in friendship, a placable enemy, undaunted by failure, accepting final defeat with philosophic calm, he played with political passions which he did not share, and made use of prejudices which he did not feel.

Froude loved him, as he loved Reineke Fuchs, for his weird incongruity with everything stuffy and commonplace.

From a constitutional history of English politics Disraeli might almost be omitted.