Shortly after his resignation from the premiership in 1955, Winston Churchill wrote these words to his monarch, Queen Elizabeth II:
“Our Island no longer holds the same authority or power that it did in the days of Queen Victoria. A vast world towers up around it and after all our victories we could not claim the rank we hold were it not for the respect for our character and good sense and the general admiration not untinged by envy for our institutions and way of life.”
There are many lines, rejoinders, and quotes from Churchill’s ninety years of life that would encapsulate his spirit, his intentions, his attitudes. This one, however, may be instructive because of the framing it presents, the change it laments, but also the permanence that Churchill had spent his entire life seeking to preserve. Churchill was able to evoke the days of the Victorian age because he had been born in 1874 and raised, educated, and called to public service in their twilight. He knew the power the Empire once possessed because he spent his twenties fighting savage wars of peace in India and Northeast Africa, as well as covering them as a journalist in South Africa (where he made a spectacular espace after being captured by the Boers). He entered Parliament in 1900 during a time of unsure parliamentary power and new demands for social services. His political career was witness to impossibly high victories and crushing defeats, often in quick succession, often so severe they would have destroyed the career of any ordinary man. His ability to outlive them was a testament to his ferocity. His penchant for work and productivity is perhaps unmatched in modern history. His capacity for attention, grace, ruthlessness, and candor drove him through a life of chasing the spotlight, chasing the solution, chasing the moment.
The reason for this headlong dash through life was his internal conviction that he was doomed to die young. His father, the younger son of a duke, died at the age of 45 after living a different sort of frenetic life. This is the defining reason for Churchill’s embrace, and subsequent domination, of every situation in which he found himself. Whether it be ducking fire on the Indian frontier, or leading a navy during wartime, or fighting against anti-rearmament forces in his own party in the 1930s, or leading a nation during its darkest days of aerial bombardment, Churchill never shrank from a fight or responsibility. He did what he believed to be the proper path. He allied with great powers during the Second World War, even as he knew in doing so he was permitting them the space necessary to surpass the United Kingdom as a great power. One of these allies was the Soviet Union, but the necessity of this alliance did not change his virulent anti-communism. He led the charge for workers’ rights and social insurance while pushing back against socialist forces following the Second World War. He supported nationalization of the railroads while speaking out against encroachments on public and private freedoms. He was a man full of internal contradictions, but not so far as to ever leave him confused about what his course of action should be.
This brings us back to the opening statement. The “character, good sense, institutions and way of life” of which he wrote was a full-throated endorsement of Britishness as a superior way of living, governing, leading, and fighting. The institutions were the constitutional, social, parliamentary, and historic foundations on which his own life and career were possible. They encompassed not just the public life, but the private one as well. They were the authors, poets, artists, generals, engineers, and statesmen that over centuries had built the Britain that Churchill sought to, when necessary, reform but to ultimately conserve. It was not a the conservatism of a Luddite, or one aligned against cities or business, but the conservatism of someone who felt he had been entrusted to preserve a status quo that, on balance, was a positive one.
It was for this reason that he saw fit to argue against increased defense expenditures at some points of his career, but in favor of enormous military operations at others. He was never reflexively opposed to any policy, but was attuned to the actual needs of the nation at that time. He was not always correct. He was not impervious to scorn from his own party. He was not a perfect manager of his estate or his own family. He was, fundamentally, a flawed man who nevertheless persisted. While he and his wife, Clementine, would feud over their relative lives and expenditures, their marriage was an overwhelmingly successful one when measured by the standards of love, challenge, parenthood, and fidelity. In his own way he was a literary giant, having more than a dozen original historical works to his name, not to mention his numerous newspapers columns and important speeches. He was a painter, having taken the hobby as a respite against his own agitation and melancholy. He was a skilled and unflinching communicator—whether it be in book, letter, or speech. Even his political opponents could not fault his penchant for foresight and organization. The reason the official biography of his life can fill so many volumes—eight—is because his life was one of sheer unbridled activity that made a truly meteoric impact on the course of history. While coverage of Churchill can at times be either hagiographic or accusatory (or worse), there can be no doubt that he was a gravitational force on human affairs.
Like other great figures, Churchill’s is a life that seemingly demands documentation and explanation. So why is Martin Gilbert’s one-volume history worth the time? For starters, Gilbert was, in concert with Churchill’s son Randolph, Churchill’s official biographer. This one-volume work is a distillation of that larger effort. It is sufficiently long enough to make one both value the abbreviated nature of a single volume while also appreciating the sheer enormity of effort found within the multi-volume biography. It is a perfectly broad yet detailed presentation of Churchill’s life, often narrated by his or his contemporaries’ words. Gilbert does have a tendency to introduce a paragraph and then cut very quickly to a quotation or excerpt. While the original sourcing is appreciated, it is done with little nuance. Likewise, Gilbert is a very good historian, but a somewhat lacking writer. This is perhaps more a question of taste than of effectiveness, but a writer fully aware of the gravity of what he is describing is an appreciated one. That should not dissuade anyone from taking a stab at this. It is the second Churchill biography I’ve read, the first being Paul Johnson’s marvelous little 160 page rendition. Gilbert’s is a more fleshed out account, and one that adequately fills in gaps of knowledge or of context. I hope to tackle the recent addition to the field of study offered by Andrew Roberts, as I’ve read nothing but overwhelmingly positive reviews and esteem him greatly. But I get ahead of myself. Let me close with a suggestion: read this book. If the writing does not hold you enraptured, the sheer magnanimity of the life it describes almost certainly will. Churchill’s is a life that is worth knowing in any decade or century. His words, and they are copious, are very much worth knowing now as we seek to answer the questions of a new century, a new century not unlike the one Churchill himself approach as he was seated in Parliament in 1900: one full of possibility but also of danger. Both must be taken head-on, a strategy Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill would surely appreciate.