Roy Jenkins, Gladstone: A Biography (aff) New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, 1995; paperback ed. 2002. 698 pages.
I love reading biographies. They are, to me, recreational. In part, I enjoy them because I love history, or, more specifically, people who made history. In a similar light, I appreciate leadership, and people whom history proves to have been leaders of consequence. Through the years, I have read biographies on American presidents, monarchs, prime ministers, and military leaders. I have, of course, read biographies on Churchill, as well as Pitt, Wellington, Disraeli, and Thatcher. But until now, I had not read a biography on one of Britain’s most dominant prime ministers: William Gladstone. I had also purchased H.C.G. Matthew’s book Gladstone: 1809-1898, but decided to begin with the one by Jenkins.
Roy Jenkins is the author of 18 books. He sat in the House of Commons and held several prominent cabinet positions. He also served as Chancellor of Oxford University and then president of the Royal Society of Literature. His style at times reminded me of that of Churchill, though not quite as grandiose. But his background as a British lord who is intimately familiar with British history and culture makes this book rich in detail.
I will not attempt to summarize this 698-page tome. It is far too detailed. Jenkins’ thesis is that Gladstone “. . . was the quintessential Victorian statesman, fitting the reign, although not latterly the prejudices of the queen, like a hand into a glove” (xv). The Victorian era was Britain’s apex of world influence, and Gladstone was its most influential and longstanding prime minister during that period. As a result, his life is certainly worthy of study. Much like Franklin Roosevelt, his being elected four times was an unparalleled feat. And to do so when he did (his first election to highest office occurred at just shy of age 59) was certainly a notable accomplishment (292).
As with all great historical figures, Gladstone is a study in contrasts and paradoxes. The skills and temperament that lead him to greatness were also some of his chief vulnerabilities. Gladstone was a devout Anglican. Though he courted the idea of entering the ministry, he ultimately concluded that his political career could buttress the Church (28).
Gladstone often immersed himself in theological issues. He wrote numerous books and articles on theological and ecclesiastical topics. He often spoke with a moralizing tone that could be offensive, especially to Queen Victoria. He kept a journal for most of his life (until his sight became too impaired for him to continue reading), and he maintained a detailed record of his spiritual struggles and victories. Jenkins notes, “. . . sin, condemnation, and fear played a great part in his religion. God’s mercy was always more problematical” (42). Though he was in close contact with evangelicalism, he never embraced it as a belief system (29). Gladstone also practiced self-flagellation when trying to correct sinful behavior (103). Throughout Gladstone’s life, he regularly referenced his devout belief in God and his accountability to Him. He often made such comments as, “The Almighty seems to sustain and spare me for some purpose of His own deeply unworthy as I know myself to be. Glory be to His name” (293).
The infamous irony of Gladstone’s morality is that he famously devoted much of his life to walking the streets at night trying to reform prostitutes. Clearly, he was drawn by more than mere evangelistic fervor, though there is no evidence that he ever made full use of these ladies’ services. He was at times captivated by beautiful women, though he remained free of scandal and was happily married for many decades.
Gladstone was in some ways quite awkward in human relationships, as was evident by his early failures to procure a wife. Always full of energy, he could be an overwhelming force when he put his mind to something. Jenkins says that “His attitude to modern languages was reminiscent of a tank cutting its way through undergrowth” (15).
I thoroughly enjoyed Jenkins’ “upper crust British” style of writing. Here are a few examples of his delightful writing style:
“But excess was always one of his salient qualities” (24).
“He therefore spent the whole of 1844 plaguing his colleagues with his conscience” (69).
“Gladstone, like de Gaulle, was conceited rather than vain” (156).
“The retreat was complete, redeemed only by the brilliance of the bugle call by which it was ordered” (243).
“The inherent problem was that he was the aggressor without possessing sufficient forces to sustain the assault” (250).
“He was respected as a Chancellor and feared as an orator, but not revered or loved as a leader” (271).
“Gladstone was more pre-eminent than predominant in his first cabinet” (316).
“It raised questions rather than disposed of them” (318).
“Gladstone’s winding up speech won more praise than votes” (365).
Gladstone was fortunate to lead at a time of relative peace for the British homeland. He did foresee dangers that ultimately led to World War One. He also interacted with many of the great figures of the nineteenth century. His main antagonist was Benjamin Disraeli, whose style was entirely foreign to his own. Gladstone’s relationship with Queen Victoria was good as long as Prince Albert lived. But in the later days, his relationship with his sovereign became strained and awkward.
Gladstone totally dominated his children, yet he gave them an unusual amount of his attention for a leading man of his age. In return, his children all remained close to him (460).
Gladstone, though politically astute, was driven by conviction over expediency, so he attempted to tackle difficult political issues. His greatest challenge was to resolve the problem of Ireland. Though he came close, he was ultimately stymied by the House of Lords. Yet his legislative record is impressive, especially in such matters as election reform and the disestablishment of the Church.
Gladstone’s physical capacity enabled him to accomplish feats lesser men could only envy. One of his favorite pastimes was cutting down trees. His zeal to undertake challenges became legendary. Jenkins states, “lethargy was the last thing from which Gladstone ever suffered” (47). Throughout his life, he gave 114,000 pounds, or five and half million dollars in modern currency, to charity (242). Gladstone made herculean speeches, some lasting several hours and continuing past midnight. Jenkins notes that “The subordinate clauses hung like candelabra throughout his oration with few of his sentences containing less than seventy words and some twice as many” (91).
Gladstone accomplished much, in part, because he lived so long. Jenkins notes, “Gladstone had the longest twilight and the greatest number of encores in the history of politics” (61). He also became prime minister after having had the most distinguished experience as a cabinet member of anyone in British history (291). Though he often spoke of retirement, he seemed genetically incapable of not leading and dominating, nor was he able to relieve himself of a profound sense of responsibility to make a difference for his nation.
If you like British history, you may find this book interesting. At times, it goes into details of the political complexities of the nineteenth century British parliamentary system, which may lose North American readers. Nevertheless, Jenkins claims that Gladstone was the preeminent leader of the preeminent nation and accomplished feats few could rival. He did so while suffering from obvious flaws and weaknesses of character. To me, this fact makes him all the more interesting.
I recommend this book for those who can persevere through almost 700 pages of British history. To do so, you’ll need to focus on how history has largely been made by people with feet of clay who found a way to overcome their frail humanity and to leave a profound mark on their generation, and in history books, for many years afterward.
Rating: 4
