What a loony book. Not only does Pearson think Gladstone the embodiment of malign incompetence, he thinks Disraeli the Personification of Pure Political Perception. And this is the feeling the book produced in me, a great admirer of Disraeli.
I first read it decades ago, as a college student, not knowing anything about either Gladstone or Disraeli, except that a caricature of Disraeli showed up in one of Tenniel's illustrations to Alice. Imagine my surprise when I learned that it was something like Paradise Lost, with Gladstone as Satan and Dizzy as the Archangel Michael. My knowledge is somewhat more nuanced now, so I was better able to filter out the campaign-biography aspects.
Pearson is better on someone like Wilde, who is, after all, an entertainer first.