Between the afternoon tea and dinner the statesman usually retires
again, and gets through some of the lighter and more agreeable of his
intellectual tasks. He reads rapidly, and I think I should say that,
especially of late years, he does a good deal of skipping. If a book
does not interest him, he does not trouble to read it through. He uses
a rough kind of _memoria technica_ to enable him to mark passages with
which he agrees, from which he dissents, which he desires to qualify,
or which he reserves for future reference. I should say the books he
reads most of are those dealing with theology, always the first and
favorite topic, and the history of Ireland before and after the Act of
Union. Indeed, everything dealing with that memorable period is
greatly treasured. I remember one hasty glance over Mr. Gladstone's
book table in his town house. In addition to the liberal weekly, "The
Speaker," and a few political pamphlets, there were, I should say,
fifteen or twenty works on theology, none of them, as far as I could
see, of first-rate importance. Of science Mr. Gladstone knows little,
and it cannot be said that his interest in it is keen. He belongs, in
a word, to the old-fashioned Oxford ecclesiastical school, using the
controversial weapons which are to be found in the works of Pusey and
of Hurrell Froude. In his reading, when a question of more minute and
out-of-the-way scholarship arises, he appeals to his constant friend
and assistant, Lord Acton, to whose profound learning he bows with a
deference which is very touching to note.