Rosebery: the other waiting Scot

Since the late Victorian age there have been two prime ministers who have come close to nervous breakdowns while in Downing Street. The first was Anthony Eden, dosing himself on mind-altering drugs so that he could relieve the gnawing pressures of his own insecurities and the pressures of the Suez crisis in 1956. Last year diligent research by the former foreign secretary and medical doctor David Owen found that Eden during his spell as premier was taking the powerful narcotic drinamyl, a combination of amphetamines and barbiturates, which badly undermined his judgment, reduced his coherence and made him paranoid. ‘He was in such a bad way that he didn’t make sense,’ wrote one contemporary. Eden’s health was so shattered that he was forced to resign in January 1957.

The case of Lord Rosebery is less well-known, but he too struggled to cope with the burden of office, having succeeded Gladstone as Liberal Prime Minister in March 1894. Like Eden, he seemed to have all the right qualities for the post: charm, charisma, eloquence and a natural authority. Yet he was overwhelmed by his responsibilities, lapsing into such chronic insomnia that his doctor felt compelled to pump him full of dangerous quantities of morphine to try to induce sleep. The seriousness of his nervous collapse left some colleagues fearing that he might die or commit suicide. During his last grim months as prime minister he behaved with eccentric indifference to the fortunes of the Liberal party. In the 1895 general election he took off on a lengthy yachting trip around the Scottish islands. His government was heavily defeated and he never held political office again.

What is fascinating about both these men is that before they entered Downing Street each was viewed as the heir apparent to a long-serving but bitterly controversial prime minister who was said by critics to have clung on to power too long.