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Book
ReviewNothing
But BiographyDisraeli: a personal history. Christopher Hibbert, 2004. London:
HarperCollins; ISBN 000714718X, 401 pp., £9.99, paper
SAGE Publications, Inc.2007DOI: 10.1177/09675507070140040706
H.G.R.Erben
Corsanico, Lucca
Benjamin
Disraeli (1840–81) who famously observed, `read no history, nothing
but biography' is of particular interest to students of that disci- pline.
How was it possible for such a born outsider – a vain, outlandish,
dandified Venetian Jew – to become the leader of the Conservative Party
and twice Prime Minister? Certainly, he did not suffer from that that now
common contemporary malady, low self-esteem: his high opinion of him- self
never faltered and he did not suffer the hindrance of noble political ideals.
As to his appearance, imagine a very Jewish-looking young man in tight red
leggings, a blue jacket, a gold cummerbund and sporting long, black hair arranged
in ringlets, his hands and neck bejewelled. While still a young man, his father
Isaac D'Israeli (one of the most erudite and learned men in London) took his
son to literary evenings, usually held at
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the
home of the publisher John Murray. It was here that his education – literary, conversational and social – seriously began. For some reason,
a man with a patent dislike of the middle classes, with no taste for demagogy
and with an un-English cast of mind reached greater political heights than
any other British politician, with the possible excep- tion of Winston Churchill.
How then was this achieved? Disraeli committed himself from his late teens
until the end of his life to a ceaseless round – in London and in the
country – of socializing with the nobility, the mighty and the influential.
Among this group he endeavoured to create intense friend- ships. In many ways,
he was more salesman than politician: he convinced himself of his own sincerity.
That was his trick. One was never sure whether he was homosexual, heterosexual
or bisexual. He may not have been entirely sure himself – such matters
were subordinated in his psychology to the predominant drive of wishing to
ally himself with useful and interesting connections – that these should
be men or women, young or old were not considerations that occupied him. If
he struck some as horribly affected, he struck more as a man to like and then
a man to follow. And among his admirers and confidants was Queen Victoria.
Disraeli had a specific politi- cal gift, which at the height of his success
has never been bettered – an abil- ity to expose the weakness of his
political opponents. It was this that saw off Peel in 1841 and which began
his long period in the limelight of British pol- itics. As a Jew he knew he
should make an appeal to traditional institutions – he was a dandy
cosmopolitan who derided dandified cosmopolitanism. Disraeli was debt ridden
most of his life. He had continual battles with creditors, bailiffs and moneylenders
from whom he often had to go into hiding (not infrequently abroad). Much of
his writing was undertaken to make inroads into his dreadful finances. As
soon as he managed to pay off some of his creditors and lessen his burden,
he immediately got himself into even greater debt. This situation never greatly
troubled or discom- forted him. He was given some leeway by a fortuitous combination
of cir- cumstances, namely the generosity of his wife, the inheritance from
his father, the land and title bestowed on him by the Queen and the legacy
of a Mrs Brydges (granted on condition that she should be buried in the vault
with him and his wife). When he first received Mrs Brydges' offer, he had
never heard of the lady. However, a lifelong correspondence ensued of the
most flattering kind. Such correspondence with several women and men friends
was conducted on an almost daily basis. The picture drawn of Disraeli is often
not a pretty one and yet the reader of Hibbert's biography often finds its
subject sympathetic. Why? In part, it is because he had such an original personality
and seems so different from the contemporaries he stood among, and, in part,
because although spoken ill of (with usually an anti-Semitic slant) he did
not speak ill of his less than generous friends and allies.
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After
a bloodied beginning, he became a brilliant orator. His speeches rarely lasted
less than three hours, often four, and sometimes five. He spoke in a quiet
voice and without notes, his arguments were lucidly struc- tured and almost
always he had the full attention of the House. When he neared the climax of
a section of his speech he modulated his voice with great effect until, with
panache, he administered the coup de grâce. (Palmerston was so skewered – after which Disraeli would walk over to him and exchange a few comforting
words.) The House would be enthralled at his often-repeated bravura performances.
Of the many con- gratulations he received, his own were conspicuous among
them. During the late 1870s, Disraeli suffered increasingly bad health. He
was tormented by dreadful attacks of gout as well as severe bronchitis. In
spite of this, he would not ease up on attending dinner parties, usually while
in the greatest of pain and discomfort. Particularly, he would never evade
a visit to the Queen, who was always very anxious to see him and was most
caring and solicitous towards him. He loathed Balmoral but never shirked the
long journey. Only once did Disraeli fail to accommodate the Queen. It was
when he had to persuade her to allow Princess Alexandra to go home to Denmark
during the Prince's six months visit to India, a trip on which the Prince
had refused to take his wife. The relationship of the Queen and Disraeli can
perhaps be best described as a caring and profound platonic love affair. Disraeli
agonized over ever new ways to please the Queen. Why not make her Empress
of India? As he prepared the ground, it was wise and advantageous to obtain
an important stake in the Suez Canal. He knew he would never get the four
million pounds required from Parliament, so he approached the Rothschilds,
who simply enquired to whom the cheque was to be made out. At the Congress
of Berlin, he obtained Cyprus for the Crown. Disraeli also wrote a number
of good novels. One thinks with dread of what Alec Douglas Home, Margaret
Thatcher or John Major might have ever turned out in that line. Coningsby,
Sybil and Tancred sold in their thousands and are important `condition of
England' novels. Lothair is a work of rare political satire and still hugely
enjoyable. For Endymion Disraeli was paid £10,000, which in today's terms
would be the equiva- lent of 50 times that figure. In spite of all his vanity,
Disraeli's novels taken together demonstrate his feeling for the poor and
the beaten down and he did say of his writings, `my works are my life'. Needless
to say, Hibbert's excellent book treats Disraeli's political life seriously,
but what remains for me most remarkable in the work is his bringing home to
those of us interested in biography how strange it was that a man like Disraeli
should have been British prime minister. Disraeli died of respiratory failure
at his house in Curzon Street on 19 April 1881. The Queen had offered to visit
him during his last days, but he declined
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saying,
`no it is better not. She would only ask me to take a letter to Albert'. The
Prince and Princess of Wales, his parliamentary and cabinet colleagues, his
friends, the high aristocracy and many others attended his funeral. Mr Gladstone
did not.