More lonely than queer

Lord Rosebery was the great lost leader of Victorian politics. Today he is a forgotten figure, but in his time he was the most famous man in Britain. Precociously talented and a star orator, he could draw vast crowds and keep them spellbound. He was the heir apparent to Gladstone as leader of the Liberal party, but as prime minister he was a failure. He held office for little more than a year, and by the time he resigned the Liberal party was in a state of shambles from which it never fully recovered. His life is an extraordinary story of squandered talent and wasted opportunity.

Until now, Rosebery has remained an enigma. There has never been a full biography. Historians have dissected his speeches, but no one has got close to the man. The reasons for his brilliant failure remained a matter for inspired speculation. There were dark mutterings about a hidden life, dogged by homo- sexual blackmail and scandal. Historians salivated about the locked cupboards at Dalmeny, Rosebery’s Scottish seat, which were rumoured to contain the diaries where he confided his innermost secrets.

Leo McKinstry has gained access to the Rosebery archive, and he has used the diaries, and many other papers, to magnificent effect. This is a superb political biography. It’s wonderfully timely too. Rosebery is a life for our times.

He was born with a massive silver spoon in his mouth, but also with a crippling psychological burden. His father was an undistinguished Scottish aristocrat who died when Rosebery was four. His mother was a kinswoman of the younger Pitt, a connection which meant a great deal to Rosebery. He modelled himself on Pitt, and he also wrote his biography (this seems to be a habit with youthful retired leaders — William Hague has written a life of Pitt too).