Benjamin
Disraeli reached the supreme summit of his ambitions when he entered the House
of Commons as Prime Minister in February 1868.
The
politician who became affectionately known as ‘Dizzy’ had first entered
Parliament in 1837. He was jeered and shouted down when, as MP for Maidstone,
he made his maiden speech. He sat down in defeat, saying, “I sit down now, but
the time will come when you will hear me.”
His
prophecy came true.
Lord
Melbourne, who had condescendingly explained to Disraeli in 1834 why the likes
of him could never become Prime Minister, said in 1848 after hearing that
Disraeli had become Leader of the Opposition, “By God! The fellow will do it
yet.”
He
was right. Unfortunately, Melbourne didn’t live long enough to see his words
come true.
What
might be called The Politician’s Progress had been an uphill battle.
Disraeli
spent around three quarters of his political career in opposition, some of it
between terms as Prime Minister. He would have needed preternatural amounts of
ambition, endurance, patience, persistence and determination, not to mention patronage
by prominent people and emotional support, to recover from all the
disappointments, setbacks, opposition and criticism, overcome all his
handicaps, stay the course and reach his goal.
Was
it all worth it?
Only
Disraeli himself could tell us whether the game was worth the candle; all we
can do is speculate.
Some
of them attract forces that stop them getting it.
Some
end up with what seems like a fifth-rate travesty of what they really wanted.
In other cases, everything backfires and they get the exact opposite of what
they had hoped for, perhaps losing what they already had.
None
of this was for Benjamin Disraeli: he got exactly what he wanted. He became
very powerful politically and all the top people knew who he was. He moved in
the highest circles in the land. Queen Victoria became his friend.
But
did he feel that he had come home and made it at last, or did he suffer from
what is now called imposter’s syndrome?
Did
his triumph turn to dust and ashes and did his success do what he hoped it
would do? Was it a case of too little, too late?
Was
he up to dealing with the duties and responsibilities of his position?
There
are many factors, metaphysical, psychological and physical, that prevent people
from enjoying what they eventually achieve. The price for getting something may
be the ability to cope with it.
The
continual use of cynicism, hypocrisy, dissimulation, lack of scruples and
manipulation that may be necessary to reach the goal may cause someone’s real
self to become so atrophied that they lose the ability to enjoy it. They may
become so addicted to living in the future that they are unable to enjoy the
present.
Some
people may not be able to meet the requirements of their new position or do
justice to themselves and the occasion because of old age, ill health and being
worn out by the effort it took to get there.
Disraeli
was almost 64 years old when he first became Prime Minister. This is not a great age, but he was
not a strong, healthy man. He was often ill, and he sometimes fell asleep at
meetings. He left the details to others.
It
is a personal tragedy for Disraeli that his parents and sister Sarah were all
dead by the time he became Prime Minister. His triumph was marred because they
did not live to see it. His supportive sister would have been very happy and
proud to see him reach the top. Disraeli rarely mentioned his mother, which
speaks for itself. His great triumph would have shown her that he was worth
something after all.
These
deaths remind me of Charlotte Brontë and how her siblings all died just as she
was making a name for herself as an author.
Damning
criticism of Disraeli
Benjamin
Disraeli has been called an adventurer and a man without principles, without
feeling, without regard to anything beyond his personal ambition, a man who would
do anything to gain high office.
It
has been said that Machiavellian subtlety, feelings of what is now called
narcissistic entitlement, cynicism and extreme vengefulness are among the
attributes that helped him to realise his political and social ambitions and
turn his fantasies of power into reality.
His
great enemy and rival William Gladstone said that Disraeli was all show and no
substance.
A
biographer called him one of the greatest liars in British history.
From
a study first published in 1905:
"That whole character is complete in its
selfishness, the whole career is uniform in its dishonesty. Throughout his
whole life, I do not find even on a single occasion, a generous emotion, one
self sacrificing act, a moment of sincere conviction except that of the
almighty perfection of himself. I find him uniform in all his dealings with his
fellow man, and behind every word he utters I can only see the ever vigilant
custodian of his own interest. There is, throughout the same selfishness, calm,
patient, unhasting, unresting.
Such
a man the myriads of this mighty Empire accept as chief ruler; for such a man,
millions of pure hearts beat with genuine emotion; to such a man is given to
sway, by his single will, your fortunes and mine, and even those of countless
generations to come. Which shall a near posterity most wonder at, the audacity
of the imposter, or the blindness of the dupe? The immensity of the worship or
the pettiness of the idol?"
T.
P. O'Connor in The Life of Lord Beaconsfield
This
was published after Disraeli’s death, but the great statesman had to endure much
criticism from an early age.
He
said that his fictional works embody his feelings. He wrote this in his
autobiographical novel Contarini Fleming in 1832:
“With
what horror, with what supreme, appalling astonishment, did I find myself for
the first time in my life a subject of the most ruthless, the most malignant,
and the most adroit ridicule. I was scarified. I was scalped. The criticism
fell from my hand, a film floated over my vision; my knees trembled. I felt
that sickness of heart that we experience in our first serious scrape. I was
ridiculous, it was time to die.”
Hypersensitivity
to criticism is often associated with narcissism. It is also likely that
self-made men and people who take an individual path in life feel things much
more strongly than the collective-minded majority.
Disraeli
developed an air of indifference, but he probably suffered greatly behind the
mask. Even when it is justified, criticism can feel very hurtful to such a man.
Dizzy
explains something of himself
Much
of the inner workings of Benjamin Disraeli’s mind remain a mystery, at least in
his later years. His early letters, notes and autobiographical novels provide
some clues to his personality.
I
wonder whether he ever regretted baring his soul and presenting himself as an
unacknowledged young genius in the novels. This indiscretion, which at the time
was just an attempt to attract attention and win renown for his writing,
haunted him for the rest of his life.
He
wrote this in a letter to his father in 1830:
“To
govern men, you must either excel them in their accomplishments, or despise
them."
Was
he already thinking about how best to rule the world?
From
Disraeli’s diary for 1833:
“The
world calls me conceited. The world is in error. I trace all the blunders of my
life to sacrificing my own opinion to that of others. When I was considered
very conceited indeed I was nervous and had self-confidence only by fits. I
intend in future to act entirely from my own impulse. I have an unerring
instinct — I can read characters at a glance; few men can deceive me.
My mind is a continental mind. It is a
revolutionary mind. I am only truly great in action. If ever I am placed in a
truly eminent position I shall prove this. I could rule the House of Commons,
although there would be a great prejudice against me at first.“
His
high opinion of himself may indeed make him seem conceited and perhaps out of
touch with reality, but in that last sentence he was right on both counts.
A
major factor here is that Disraeli did exactly what he said he would do. What
is often called grandiosity in someone may actually be a premonition of their ultimate
destiny and a realistic evaluation of their talents.
Benjamin Disraeli
in 1878, three years before his death:
