Disraeli: The Romance of Politics by Robert O’Kell (review)

In an 1844 speech at Shrewsbury, Benjamin Disraeli candidly admitted his motives for pursuing a career in politics: “I love fame; I love public reputation; I love to live in the eyes of the country; and it is a glorious thing for a man to do who has had my difficulties to contend against.” This oft-cited confession was prompted by Disraeli’s frustration of not realizing his political ambitions under Robert Peel’s Conservative leadership, but its emotive character derives from complexities fundamental to Disraeli’s own psychology. In this lucid and compelling study, Robert O’Kell sets out to describe the precise character and development of Disraeli’s self-conception. Utilizing an interdisciplinary methodology and borrowing from psychological theory and literary criticism, O’Kell shows how Disraeli’s internal life was mediated by, and indeed developed as a result of, his political and literary endeavors. O’Kell organizes his study by tracing the “emotional intensities” of Disraeli’s life, which he argues resided at the heart of Disraeli’s fiction (viii). His “silver fork” novels served as “psychological romances” through which Disraeli wrestled with the paradoxes of his own imaginative self-conception as he interacted with political and social realities (vii). These paradoxes were characterized by a strange tension between pride and ambivalence. He was convinced of his own “purity,” which he possessed on account of his Jewish ancestry (7). He imagined that it imbued him with an innate and undeniable superiority, as well as entitling him to social privilege and political leadership. Yet that self-conception was challenged by insecurities that resulted both from the anti-Semitism present in Victorian society and the close association of Protestantism with England’s national identity. Thus, O’Kell sees Disraeli’s suspicion of Roman Catholicism, especially as displayed in The Young Duke (1831), Contarini Fleming (1832), and Henrietta Temple (1837), as means to explore his pride in, and reservations about, his Jewish heritage. In O’Kell’s account, what may be said about these early works holds true for them all. They were not merely glosses for his political endeavors but rather searching attempts for self-understanding and self-realization.

The autobiographical fictions constructed in Disraeli’s novels were intrinsically connected to his political life, or rather, his imaginings of how that political life existed. The internal psychological tensions between Disraeli’s desire for “purity” and “success” emerged as a parallel tension between altruism and expediency. Disraeli desired to maintain his purity with pretensions of superior moral integrity claimed by Tory political thought, but his desire for self-glorification required political maneuvers that made him appear both opportunistic and manipulative, thereby compromising his claim to “purity.” Indeed, while the majority of O’Kell’s study demonstrates the various ways Disraeli’s novels were mediums for a process of self-realization, defined by a negotiation between fantasies about himself and the political dynamics in which he participated, he also shows how Disraeli’s fiction developed in response to, and in anticipation of, public opinion. Coningsby (1844), Sybil (1845), and Tancred (1847) were as much part of Disraeli’s process of self-discovery as they were ideological proclamations of Young England. Indeed, as O’Kell notes, it was only after seeing Sybil advertised in the window of a Boulogne bookshop that Disraeli felt emboldened to write the first chapter of Tancred.

It would seem that Disraeli’s psychological complexities drew strength from his love of fame and public reputation as much as those sources impressed his insecurities. But the need to shape public opinion in an era awash in a sea of print became an increasingly important preoccupation for public figures, and Disraeli was a noteworthy pioneer in that respect. The periodical press functioned as a crucial medium for this project, and O’Kell seamlessly weaves it into his analysis. The result of O’Kell’s study is a fascinating and compelling portrait of one of Victorian Britain’s most colorful figures. If any...