I found the material for this article while looking for answers to some questions I had about Benjamin Disraeli. I wanted to know whether, despite the allegations of his enemies and detractors, he had any sincere beliefs. Did he have strong convictions about anything, or were his views changeable and just adopted from expediency?
I found that he did have some genuine and firmly-held beliefs.
The Revolutionary Epic
One thing that Disraeli definitely believed in was his own genius.
Another belief was that men are best influenced and governed by appeals to their imagination and by someone charismatic whom they could adore and obey. Someone they could hero-worship was what the people wanted. Romance was superior to reason when it came to leadership. He was right in that many people certainly do want their gods to be in human form.
These two beliefs came together in one of his attempts to make a name for himself as a creative writer.
In 1834, when he was 29 years old, he published his poem The Revolutionary Epic on this theme. It dealt with the French Revolution and the career of Napoleon Bonaparte. He considered it to be his masterpiece, the best thing he had ever done. It was going to show the world what a great genius he was, bring him fame and fortune and immortalise his name.
Or so Disraeli thought.
He began writing the poem in 1830, while he was still on his long overseas tour. As he stood in the plains of Troy in Asia gazing across the sea to Europe, it seemed to him that the two continents embodied the rival principles of government that were at the time contending for the mastery of the world.
Inspired by standing among the tombs of heroes, his imagination caught fire and he decided to write something that would rival the Iliad. He thought that the story of the French Revolution was just as interesting as the story of Troy and that Napoleon was just as great as any of the Greek heroes. He would be another Homer and astonish the world with his immortal work.
Disraeli launched his poem by inviting the cream of London society to a reception. He introduced his magnum opus by explaining that every age of man produced one genius: one man, who gave tongue to the spirit of his times. In the whole of recorded history, there had been four such men: Homer for the heroic age; Virgil for the age of empire; Dante for the revival of letters; and Milton for the Reformation. But the modern age - the revolutionary age - had not (yet) found its representative genius. 'I offer myself'', he proclaimed; 'in a spirit of genuine humility'.
Genuine humility? This sounds like false modesty to me.
Disraeli had set himself up for disappointment and humiliation. The audience was not impressed. Much later, even his greatest admirers could not find anything good to say about the poem. The concept may have been a very good one, but the execution did not do it justice. The epic poem was a complete failure, the exact opposite of what Disraeli had hoped for. Rather than being accepted as an avatar for the age, he had made a fool of himself. Once again, we have the back-firing feature.
It is very interesting to compare Disraeli’s ambitions with the views of Kathleen Raine, who did make a name for herself as a poet:
“As a child I had known that I was a chosen one…there was nothing competitive in my sense of vocation for vocation differs from ambition in that it concerns no one but ourselves … no wish to excel, to surpass or be admired…”
From Kathleen Raine’s autobiography Farewell Happy Fields
After this major flop, Disraeli abandoned his ideas of becoming a poet and gave his energies to politics and his novels.
Later events justified his belief in himself, and he gave his admirers and followers their money’s worth with his flamboyant style. He made that worthy man William Gladstone look dull and boring in comparison. He captured the imagination of the public when he made Queen Victoria the Empress of India.
Three Napoleons
As both men were outsiders, it is possible that Disraeli took Napoleon Bonaparte as his role model - although he planned to conquer the political rather than the geographical world. If Disraeli did feel about Napoleon the way he said that people felt about their glamorous leaders, I wonder what he would have given to meet his idol, who had died in 1821. Did he ever wish that he could have seen Napoleon for himself?
By coincidence, he did have dealings with someone called Napoleon, but not the one who was his hero, not the man who was featured in his Revolutionary Epic. It may be a case of the third-rate travesty feature here.
What Disraeli got was Louis Napoleon, who was the nephew and heir of Napoleon Bonaparte and became Napoleon III. He came to London as an exile in 1838. He met many people, including the young politician Benjamin Disraeli.
By another coincidence, a dramatist who wrote a very successful play about Disraeli in 1911 was also called Louis Napoleon (Parker).
Some tenuous connections
Benjamin Disraeli’s novels are what were then known as silver-fork novels, because they were about high society. The Victorian novelist Ouida also wrote such novels; she, like Disraeli, was an outsider. Their works amused the fashionable set but gave the middle-classes a glimpse of aristocratic life. There are allegations that some of her work was influenced by Disraeli’s novels.
Her bizarre clothes attracted a lot of attention, as did those of Disraeli in his youth.
One of Ouida’s most popular novels was Under Two Flags. One of the characters adores Napoleon and takes care of a very old soldier just because he actually once looked on the face of the long-dead Emperor. To her, the old man was sacred as a god. The many admiring references to Napoleon in this book suggest to me that Ouida too was a worshipper.
Ouida’s father was French; he was a shady character who may have been a secret agent. He hinted at a close friendship with the exiled Louis Napoleon.
Napoleon III:
I found that he did have some genuine and firmly-held beliefs.
The Revolutionary Epic
One thing that Disraeli definitely believed in was his own genius.
Another belief was that men are best influenced and governed by appeals to their imagination and by someone charismatic whom they could adore and obey. Someone they could hero-worship was what the people wanted. Romance was superior to reason when it came to leadership. He was right in that many people certainly do want their gods to be in human form.
These two beliefs came together in one of his attempts to make a name for himself as a creative writer.
In 1834, when he was 29 years old, he published his poem The Revolutionary Epic on this theme. It dealt with the French Revolution and the career of Napoleon Bonaparte. He considered it to be his masterpiece, the best thing he had ever done. It was going to show the world what a great genius he was, bring him fame and fortune and immortalise his name.
Or so Disraeli thought.
He began writing the poem in 1830, while he was still on his long overseas tour. As he stood in the plains of Troy in Asia gazing across the sea to Europe, it seemed to him that the two continents embodied the rival principles of government that were at the time contending for the mastery of the world.
Inspired by standing among the tombs of heroes, his imagination caught fire and he decided to write something that would rival the Iliad. He thought that the story of the French Revolution was just as interesting as the story of Troy and that Napoleon was just as great as any of the Greek heroes. He would be another Homer and astonish the world with his immortal work.
Disraeli launched his poem by inviting the cream of London society to a reception. He introduced his magnum opus by explaining that every age of man produced one genius: one man, who gave tongue to the spirit of his times. In the whole of recorded history, there had been four such men: Homer for the heroic age; Virgil for the age of empire; Dante for the revival of letters; and Milton for the Reformation. But the modern age - the revolutionary age - had not (yet) found its representative genius. 'I offer myself'', he proclaimed; 'in a spirit of genuine humility'.
Genuine humility? This sounds like false modesty to me.
Disraeli had set himself up for disappointment and humiliation. The audience was not impressed. Much later, even his greatest admirers could not find anything good to say about the poem. The concept may have been a very good one, but the execution did not do it justice. The epic poem was a complete failure, the exact opposite of what Disraeli had hoped for. Rather than being accepted as an avatar for the age, he had made a fool of himself. Once again, we have the back-firing feature.
It is very interesting to compare Disraeli’s ambitions with the views of Kathleen Raine, who did make a name for herself as a poet:
“As a child I had known that I was a chosen one…there was nothing competitive in my sense of vocation for vocation differs from ambition in that it concerns no one but ourselves … no wish to excel, to surpass or be admired…”
From Kathleen Raine’s autobiography Farewell Happy Fields
After this major flop, Disraeli abandoned his ideas of becoming a poet and gave his energies to politics and his novels.
Later events justified his belief in himself, and he gave his admirers and followers their money’s worth with his flamboyant style. He made that worthy man William Gladstone look dull and boring in comparison. He captured the imagination of the public when he made Queen Victoria the Empress of India.
Three Napoleons
As both men were outsiders, it is possible that Disraeli took Napoleon Bonaparte as his role model - although he planned to conquer the political rather than the geographical world. If Disraeli did feel about Napoleon the way he said that people felt about their glamorous leaders, I wonder what he would have given to meet his idol, who had died in 1821. Did he ever wish that he could have seen Napoleon for himself?
By coincidence, he did have dealings with someone called Napoleon, but not the one who was his hero, not the man who was featured in his Revolutionary Epic. It may be a case of the third-rate travesty feature here.
What Disraeli got was Louis Napoleon, who was the nephew and heir of Napoleon Bonaparte and became Napoleon III. He came to London as an exile in 1838. He met many people, including the young politician Benjamin Disraeli.
By another coincidence, a dramatist who wrote a very successful play about Disraeli in 1911 was also called Louis Napoleon (Parker).
Some tenuous connections
Benjamin Disraeli’s novels are what were then known as silver-fork novels, because they were about high society. The Victorian novelist Ouida also wrote such novels; she, like Disraeli, was an outsider. Their works amused the fashionable set but gave the middle-classes a glimpse of aristocratic life. There are allegations that some of her work was influenced by Disraeli’s novels.
Her bizarre clothes attracted a lot of attention, as did those of Disraeli in his youth.
One of Ouida’s most popular novels was Under Two Flags. One of the characters adores Napoleon and takes care of a very old soldier just because he actually once looked on the face of the long-dead Emperor. To her, the old man was sacred as a god. The many admiring references to Napoleon in this book suggest to me that Ouida too was a worshipper.
Ouida’s father was French; he was a shady character who may have been a secret agent. He hinted at a close friendship with the exiled Louis Napoleon.
Napoleon III:
