In the summer of 1845, Mr. Disraeli took the chair at the annual dinner of the “Printers’ Pension Society,” when the stewards, of whom I was one, received him in the drawing-room of the Albion, in Aldersgate-street. Immediately after his entrance he posted himself in a nonchalant fashion with his back to the mantelpiece, and his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, an attitude Thackeray was fond of assuming, and began to chat familiarly with those near him. In a minute or two he asked if Mr. Leech were present (Leech was one of the stewards), as if he were he would like to make his acquaintance. The famous “Punch” caricaturist thereupon stepped forward and was duly introduced. Disraeli showed himself particularly gracious and warmly complimented the artist, whose pencil had lately been employed in satirizing him in a disparaging fashion, depicting him as a nice young man for a small party—i.e., the Young England party, as a jew dealer in cast-off notions, and as young Gulliver before the Brobdingnag minister (Sir E. Peel). Disraeli tried his hardest to ingratiate himself with the distinguished caricaturist, but Leech, proof against the wiles of the charmer, rejoined some months afterwards with the famous cartoon, wherein Disraeli, who had lately proclaimed, that although the cause was lost there should be retribution for those who had betrayed it, figured as a spiteful ringietted viper and Peel as a smiling unconcerned old file.

During the dinner the chairman did his best to make himself pleasant, and hobbed and nobbed unreservedly with his immediate neighbours.