Ten Englishmen of the Nineteenth Century

by James Richard Joy

Although as yet no statesman has arisen who has been able to frame a plan of federation which should weld all into "one imperial whole," the idea is abroad, and has occupied many minds. Perhaps the man whose powerful imagination first grasped the "imperial" idea and began to look upon Greater Britain as having common interests, and being capable of assuming common responsibilities, was Lord Beaconsfield, or Benjamin Disraeli—to use the name by which he first came into public notice. Death hushed his active mind before he could give form and substance to his great concept, and it was left to others trained in his school to propagate the idea, and just at the century's close to demonstrate its significance and worth. Yet what he did for England through a long life spent in conspicuous public service renders it impossible to exclude him from any list of Ten Great Englishmen of the nineteenth century. Nor is there in the entire group a personality more interesting than that of the ambitious, determined, witty, eloquent, and amazingly clever Israelite who raised himself by sheer force of intellect from an object of ridicule and contempt to the leadership of the hereditary aristocracy, membership in the House of Lords, chief minister of England, friend of the sovereign, and arbiter of the destinies of nations. On that January night in 1846, when Sir Robert Peel, as Prime Minister, confessed to the House of Commons his conversion to the theory of free trade, and his purpose to repeal the Corn Laws, he was answered by Benjamin Disraeli in a speech which for bitterness of sarcasm, brilliancy of wit, and savagery of denunciation, has seldom been equaled in parliamentary history. (See Appendix.) He denounced Peel as "a man who never originates an idea; a watcher of the atmosphere; a man who takes his observations, and when he finds the wind in a particular quarter turns his sails to suit it…..Such a man may be a powerful minister, but he is no more a great statesman than the man who gets up behind a carriage is a great whip!" Such an attack, voicing the feelings of the Tory protectionists, and coming from Peel's own side of the House, at that critical moment, made the political fortune of the speaker. From that hour Benjamin Disraeli was looked upon as the hope of the remnant of the Tory party, which could no longer follow Peel.

Disraeli was in his tenth year of membership in the House of Commons. He was a descendant of a line of Spanish and Venetian Jews who had sought refuge in England and prospered there. His father, Isaac Disraeli, had broken with the family traditions, devoting himself to literature instead of getting gain, and had renounced the faith of his fathers. The son, Benjamin, was baptized into the Church of England at the age of thirteen, educated among his father's books and in private schools, and at seventeen articled to a firm of London solicitors. Instead of practicing law the young clerk practiced authorship so cleverly as to make a sensation in his twenty-first year with a novel "Vivian Grey" (1826), the first of eleven ("Young Duke," 1831; "Contarini Fleming," 1832; "Alroy," 1833; "Henrietta Temple," 1836; "Venetia," 1837; "Coningsby," 1844; "Sybil," 1845; "Tancred," 1847; "Lothair," 1870; "Endymion," 1880), besides several long poems, burlesques, and political pamphlets, and "The Life of Lord George Bentinck." "Vivian Grey" was very smartly done, and fashionable London was captivated by its clever satire and witty dialogue. On the profits of his earlier books he traveled extensively in Europe and the Levant, where his Oriental imagination was strongly stimulated. Before he was thirty he had won his way into the most exclusive circles of London society, the vogue of his novels and the brilliancy of his conversational powers commending him to the "smart set" of the metropolis. His determination "to be somebody" in spite of the disadvantages of blood, birth, and lack of money led him to ridiculous affectations—yet, however ridiculed at the time, they served his turn, and brought him the notice that he craved. N. P. Willis, who saw the much-talked-about young Israelitish novelist at Lady Blessington's, wrote of the strange vision: "He was sitting in a window looking on Hyde Park, the last rays of sunlight reflected from the gorgeous gold flowers of a splendidly embroidered waistcoat. Patent leather pumps, a white stick with a black cord and tassel, and a quantity of chains about his neck and pockets served to make him a conspicuous object. He has one of the most remarkable faces I ever saw. He is lividly pale, and but for the energy of his actions and the strength of his lungs, would seem to be a victim of consumption. His eye is black as Erebus, and has the most mocking, lying-in-wait sort of expression conceivable. His mouth is alive with a kind of working and impatient nervousness; and when he has burst forth as he does constantly with a particularly successful cataract of expression, it assumes a curl of triumphant scorn that would be worthy of Mephistopheles. His hair is as extraordinary as his taste in waistcoats. A thick, heavy mass of jet-black ringlets falls on his left cheek almost to his collarless stock, which on the right temple is parted and put away with the smooth carefulness of a girl." A lady who met him at dinner described him as appareled in a black velvet coat lined with satin, purple trousers with a gold stripe on the outside seam, a scarlet waistcoat, lace wristbands to his finger tips, white gloves with flashy rings worn outside. Add to these the flowing black ringlets, and do not wonder that his hostess told the young man that he was making a fool of himself. Froude says he dressed in this fantastic guise to give the impression of folly so that his sudden displays of brilliancy might have the more striking effect coming from such an unlikely source.

Self-esteem was abounding in the young Hebrew, and he did not hesitate to compare himself with others to his own advantage. At twenty-nine he wrote his sister after an evening in the gallery of the House of Commons, "Heard Macaulay's best speech…..but between ourselves I could floor them all!" Egotism it doubtless was, but it sprang from no empty confidence in himself. The time was not distant when he was the acknowledged master of the House which looked so tempting from the galleries. He had offered himself as a Tory with Radical ideas—a combination as unusual as his style of apparel—to the electors of High Wycombe in June, 1832, but was beaten, as he was again in the autumn. It was said that in one of his early candidacies he replied to an elector, who had asked him on what he intended to stand, in the sententious phrase "on my head!" In 1834 he stood for Taunton, only to be defeated a third time. O'Connell, who had helped him in his first campaign, was mortally offended by Disraeli's allusion to his "bloody hand" in the Taunton canvass. The Irish orator, in a bitter rejoinder at Dublin, denounced Disraeli as a Jewish traitor, "the heir at law of the blasphemous thief that died upon the cross."

After many fruitless struggles the coveted seat was won, and in 1837 Benjamin Disraeli entered the House of Commons for Maidstone, his colleague being Wyndham Lewis, the friend whose good offices had gained him the nomination. Not long after the death of Mr. Lewis, in 1838, Mr. Disraeli married his lively widow, a woman to whose devotion not less than to her ample fortune he owed a debt of gratitude which he never failed to acknowledge.

Welcomed to the ranks of the Tory opposition by Sir Robert Peel, the ambitious recruit plunged at once into oratory—only to have his maiden effort drowned by the jeers of his hostile hearers, led by O'Connell's "tail" of Irish members. They mocked at his appeals for a hearing, and though the Tories cheered his pluck, he could not make it go. "At last, losing his temper, which until now he had preserved in a wonderful manner, he paused in the midst of a sentence, and looking the Liberals indignantly in the face, raised his hands and opening his mouth as widely as its dimensions would admit, said, in a remarkably loud and almost terrific tone, 'I have begun, several times, many things, and I have often succeeded at last; aye, sir, and though I sit down now, the time will come when you will hear me.'"

Nor did he ever again fail to get a hearing. He spoke often and to the point, enlivening his solid argument with touches of wit and gleams of imagination which light up the dreary pages of the parliamentary journals. At the first he was the steady supporter of Peel, but this clever man of ideals, imagination, and insight, could have little in common with that prosy, plodding man of business, whose stronghold was in the esteem of the plodding middle classes. When the Tories came into power in 1841, with Peel as Prime Minister, he found no place in his government for the supporter whose talent all parties had now begun to recognize. The slight bred coolness, and as Peel began to veer towards free trade principles, Disraeli, gathering a few ardent Tory protectionists about him, made himself a thorn in the premier's side. His caustic sayings about Peel's acceptance of the principles of the opposition were the talk of the clubs. "The right honorable gentleman," he said, "caught the Whigs bathing and he walked away with their clothes." He characterized the premier's genius as "sublime mediocrity," amid shouts of applause, and his government, raised to office by protectionist votes, yet steadily promoting free trade measures, he branded as "organized hypocrisy." His hostility to the repeal of the Corn Laws was based not so much upon economic argument superior to that of Cobden, as upon his fundamental belief that the greatness of the English nation in all past centuries had been derived from the wise rule of the aristocratic, land-owning class, and a fond belief that the retention of the tariff upon imported agricultural produce would support this ancient pillar of the constitution. Furthermore, his contention that England's adoption of free trade would be met by rival nations with high tariffs against imports of English goods has been borne out by the facts of subsequent history, against the confident assertion of Cobden and the Manchester school of economists that the world would soon follow the lead of England in throwing down all artificial barriers to the exchange of commodities. Peel carried his bill, as we have seen, but the protectionists wreaked their vengeance by overthrowing his government in the moment of victory.

From the hour of his defeat, in 1846, Sir Robert Peel was no longer a party chief. The Tory aristocracy who had lent their aid to the fatal coalition against him were led at first by Lord George Bentinck, but the real director of the organization was Disraeli. In 1849 he succeeded to the formal leadership of the Conservative opposition in the House of Commons, and in 1852, when the Russell ministry went out, he took office under Lord Derby as Chancellor of the Exchequer, and leader of the House of Commons. The Free Trade League bristled up at this resurgence of the protectionist champions, but Disraeli was too wise to invite a renewal of that contest which the voice of the nation had settled, and the subject was left to lapse into innocuous desuetude for half a century. Representing but a minority in Parliament, the ministry could maintain itself but a few months. December, 1852, found the Whigs again in power, where they remained until 1859, Disraeli using his talents the while to build up and consolidate the Tory opposition and to disintegrate the discordant elements, Free Trade, Liberal, Peelite, and Radical, who rallied under the government banner.

In 1858-59 the Derby-Disraeli ministry enjoyed a second brief lease of office, and after the long Whig administration of Palmerston and Russell (1859-66), they succeeded to the direction of affairs for the third time.

Out of office Disraeli continued to entertain Parliament with the audacious, brilliant, and often masterly speeches which he alone of his generation could deliver, and his short-lived experiences as the director and spokesman of the government policy equally evidenced his administrative ability, his control of his followers, and his knowledge of the spirit and temper of the Commons and the nation.

When Benjamin Disraeli, the young novelist, was presented to Lord Melbourne at a social gathering in the early '3O's his lordship had graciously asked how he could serve him. To which the flippant young man had replied that he would like to be Prime Minister. In February, 1868, the resignation of Lord Derby raised Mr. Disraeli to the height of his youthful ambition. He was premier until December, 1868, when his great rival and former party-associate, Gladstone, wrested the honor from his grasp.