Disraeli or the Two Lives by Douglas Hurd and Edward Young: Personality before policy

Hurd and Young try to separate the public and private strands of Disraeli's career to work out how he made it to "the top of the greasy pole", writes Michael Prodger.

Disraeli: or the Two Lives
Douglas Hurd and Edward Young
Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 320pp, £20
 
If ever a politician exemplified the precedence of personality above policy, it was Benjamin Disraeli. He may be remembered as the founder of One Nation Toryism (a phrase he never used) and the imperialist who made Queen Victoria Empress of India, but the rest of his political beliefs have been obscured by the vividness of his character.
 
As a novelist, dandy and orator he makes his great opponent, William Gladstone, seem dully one-dimensional. Admittedly, few people read his novels today but the idea of a prime minister producing 18 popular works of fiction seems, in this narrowminded age, nothing less than extraordinary.
 
The aim of Douglas Hurd and his established writing partner Edward Young is to separate the public and private strands of Disraeli’s career into a pair of brief lives in order to see how he made it to “the top of the greasy pole”. The phrase is, of course, one of Disraeli’s innumerable quips: indeed he has 88 entries in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations while his nearest challenger in terms of cultural roundedness, Winston Churchill, has just over 50. This verbal sprezzatura, as the authors point out, was one of the cornerstones of his character – a Boris Johnson but with substance.
 
Disraeli stated his political position early when he first stood for parliament as a radical in 1832: “Toryism is worn out & I cannot condescend to be a Whig.” So he helped mould a new Conservative Party – and led it twice to government as prime minister – when the Peelites split in the wake of the repeal of the Corn Laws in 1846. It was helpful that he possessed a valuable attribute: he was “almost immune to slights on his personal honour”. Hurd and Young track the complexities of his career deftly while pointing out that although his governments did much to help the working class, Disraeli himself was no democrat.
 
They are perhaps more interesting, though, on his personality, one that sought “emotional support and political encouragement” rather than love or intellectual equality. Theirs is a concise but balanced assessement, full of bracing comment, on a man who “was always less interested in other people than he was in himself”.
 
Michael Prodger is former literary editor of the Sunday Telegraph
 
Disraeli at rest: The idea of a prime minister who is also a popular novelist would be pretty hard to imagine today. Photograph: Hulton Archive/Getty Images.

Michael Prodger is an Assistant Editor at the New Statesman. He is an art historian, Senior Research Fellow at the University of Buckingham, and a former literary editor.

This article first appeared in the 22 July 2013 issue of the New Statesman, How to make a saint

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Commons Confidential: Hilary’s last laugh

 Benn was born into and loves the Labour Party. His was a cry of frustration. Either he enjoys the last laugh or the lachrymose coup fails.

Observing a careworn Jeremy Corbyn, you may see in his lined face his sadness about his neglected allotment in Finchley, north London, as he imagines weeds sprouting in untilled beds and aphids multiplying, untroubled by organic pesticides. If you do, you would be wrong. Corbyn is keeping his fingers green even as militant moderates plot to snatch the Labour leadership from his weakening grasp and consign Jexit to the compost heap of history.

Broad beans are this year’s bumper crop and already on the table chez Corbyn. “I planted them in October and they’re very resistant to frost,” he proudly tells visitors. “There must be ten to 20 bags’ worth left to pick.” Either Corbyn is in denial, or he was full of beans as the shadow cabinet uprooted itself.

Cider, wellies and silent discos will henceforth always evoke resignations for Tom Watson. Labour’s deputy leader was throwing shapes at Glastonbury as the Labour balloon went up. Think of Peter Mannion standing on a children’s slide for a mobile-phone signal at Stewart Pearson’s Thought Camp in The Thick of It. Watson was scheduled to replace Corbyn in the Left Field chatterati tent.

Dodging paparazzi to head back to London in his shorts, Watson confided to comrades that this episode confirmed to him that politics is a grubby business. His first act was to shower, following a weekend without washing, before trying to clear up the Labour Party’s mess.

The mass walkout from Corbyn’s top team, triggered by Hilary Benn’s sacking, was revenge for the now former shadow foreign secretary. I can reveal that Benn was reduced to tears during last year’s long reshuffle, after Jezza’s apparatchik Seumas Milne demanded guaranteed opposition to military action in Libya. Benn was born into and loves the Labour Party. His was a cry of frustration. Either he enjoys the last laugh or the lachrymose coup fails.

More tales of the wannabe prime minister Boris Johnson’s unappetising behaviour in TV make-up rooms. An artist with the blusher complained that he grabbed, uninvited, one of two cakes that she had been given as a birthday gift. He stuffed it whole into his mouth. When she finished applying the cosmetics, he snaffled the second. The Blond Ambition displayed a similar self-entitlement in championing Brexit to pursue his premiership dream.

For weirdos, every tragedy is an opportunity. Following the assassination of Jo Cox, another female Yorkshire MP received an official-looking letter purportedly from a “security consultant”, with parliamentary and Special Branch clearance, offering to review her safety. A little alarm bell sounded. He was unmasked as a Walter Mitty. The visit of two burly coppers caused him an involuntary bowel movement.

Kevin Maguire is the associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

Kevin Maguire is Associate Editor (Politics) on the Daily Mirror and author of our Commons Confidential column on the high politics and low life in Westminster. An award-winning journalist, he is in frequent demand on television and radio and co-authored a book on great parliamentary scandals. He was formerly Chief Reporter on the Guardian and Labour Correspondent on the Daily Telegraph.

This article first appeared in the 30 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit lies