The author has written a decent, short, dry British history biography that seeks to point out various highs and lows.

As to Spencer himself, I suppose I must view him (inevitably in the light of 1940-45, obviously) as the unworthy instrument of the Good God bringing about His own glory. Obviously we are all alike unworthy.

So God used him, despite his personal problems, the most obvious being a(n eventually useful?) enthusiasm for war, and a(n ironic?) typical middle Victorian birth cohort view of race and diversity. He’s also a good example of a person with character defects being I think charming and intelligent, you know.

But where do I put Spencer at the end of the day? Few will note, of course. But I suppose I must say that although I do say that I like Jack at the end of the day (despite Narnia being Animal Land & India, but he wrote a lot of good stuff, including some of Narnia, and I like him personally), I think that the most accurate thing to say about Sir Leonard Spencer is that I do not think I could ever *really* like him, and also I do not think that I could ever *really* dislike him. He was the hero of 1940, England’s hero once, but whether he was the best of the class of 1874, if you like, or a desirable uncle to Eustace and Jill, I do not rightly know, for he could be I think both a very good and a very bad uncle, perhaps both, and how it would play out in practice would depend on many things.

…. Although the sad thing for me is a lot more Spencer got into Jack than Jack got into Spencer; that’s life in a hierarchy.

…. Spencer was a legend in his own mind…. As well as one of the first video game characters.

Stanley Baldwin, 1925: I need to give him the right job, not too big or too small, so that he doesn’t criticize me…. Or give me advice.
Therapist: That’s tough.
Baldwin: I’ll be alright; I just need a drink. Not tea; tea’s not strong enough for me.

Documentary Girl: *Voice Over as she’s walking through a corridor in a castle, and then opening a door* An important part of British myth and legend since the 13th century, Sir Leonard Spencer may have been a creature known as a “Prime Minister”. The public holds him to have been the rescuer of the Enclosure of Merlin in its finest hour, but some historians, have a different story to tell.

British Guy: *seated in front of camera* There never was a King named Leonard Spencer, or a “Prime Minister”, if there were ever such. It’s a myth. Of course, before the Atomic War there are no records, so your guess is as good as mine. I once met a gnome who claimed descent from him. But my theory is that he was an elf. But really he was the Emperor Napoleon, with a little King Arthur thrown in, and that’s how they managed to overturn the decree of Master Hitler the Regicide. So I think it’s right to say that he saved the Magic of Britain in its Finest Hour. But still. I talk with the hobbits at the pub sometimes, who curate the Merlin Magic Museum about old Sir Spencer, and most of what they say is hog wash. Before the Atomic War, you can sort all that so-called History as ‘fiction’.

Documentary Girl: *in front of camera* So that concludes this episode of “Fantastic ‘Prime Ministers’ And Where To Find Them”. Have some tea, and, Stay British.

*as the credits roll* Voice Over Man: History takes no notice of such as these, but they can help boost your productivity by 2.5%! Hawaii, here I come! Who are they? They’re, “The Hobbits”!

(No, I can’t re-say all that All Normal Like. I’m descended from Jack, and Spencer is only a friend of a friend.)

…. At least there’s a little substance to the Myth of Spencer. He single-handedly tore out Hitler’s gut and ate it, thus making his life retroactively perfect. (Ta da!) The Myth of the Elusive Hero (SO elusive….) on the other hand, well. There’s not much that JFK did that somebody else couldn’t have done the exact same way, except do photo shoots, and get shot. (LBJ has real accomplishments, although he got people killed in Vietnam.)

And let’s not forget the Myth of the Dictator.

Stalin: It’s, Peace Through Terror.
Hitler: No, it’s, Mythology That Leads To Fear.
Stalin: *coldly* Peace Through Terror.
Hitler: *angry* Mythology That Leads To Fear!
[Darth Vader: *coldly* Your lack of faith disturbs me.]

And Mom and Dad.

Dad: *angry* We’re getting pizza, dammit, and that’s final!
Mom: *coldly* I’ll be there to call the doctor when you have a heart attack.

And capitalism itself.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster: Promote yourself, Spencer! Promote yourself, Jack! Promote, promote, self-promote! Your time has come!

*The Weeknd starts playing*

Baldwin: *frowns* Why The Weeknd?
Attlee: It’s a contrast. When we mess up, some people notice, but when they mess up. Everyone notices.
Spencer: Sometimes.
Attlee: Always.

The Weeknd: Oh, when I’m like this, you’re the one I trust!
Baldwin: *goes up and slaps him on the back* Trust no one, youngster, and pour yourself a stiff drink.
The Weeknd: I thought it was, Keep a stiff upper lip.
Baldwin: That’s only if you work in PR. *to Spencer* Come on, Hero. I want you to meet someone.
Spencer: Who?
Baldwin: *considers what joke, then* Leander.
Spencer: *grumbles* At least I’m, Retroactively Perfect.
Baldwin: Only people who don’t know you would think you were perfect, Leonard. If I cut you, will you not bleed?

…. *after Spencer’s death*
Spencer: *seeing another Old Man* Cheerio, man! This is great!
God: Hello Spencer. I want you to have something. *hands him a pen*
Spencer: Bloody righteous; it’s got my name on it.
God: Because you were the pen, and I was the Writer.
*pause*
Spencer: Wot. Wot’s that? I thought I was a bloody writer, wosn’t I?
God: Oh, Spencer. Come. It is Time. Your life review awaits.
Spencer: Jolly good. I suppose that I look right righteous compared to that bugger Attlee.
God: Oh, Spencer. You make me laugh.

…. …. Afterword: Again, I don’t want to go too far in denouncing or whatever—denouncing, banging the table and losing my mind; I’m not trying to do that to anybody—the man (he certainly liked being da man) who was used by God as his instrument to limit the destruction wreaked by the Nazis. I’m not a pacifist; even if war doesn’t ultimately destroy things like Naziism, it can limit them, usefully.

But it’s also true that after the war the Nazis took over South Africa; whatever they called themselves, the Nationalists, the pro-Nazi Dutch South Africans, the Afrikaners. And Spencer’s ideological daughter Margaret called Nelson Mandela a “terrorist”, aping him, declining to play up the British-Dutch rift in light of the Black-White one, as she undoubtedly felt (however wrong-headedly) that she had to, to make up for being only a daughter, and not a son. It’s not like she was a pacifist herself, or willing to call, I don’t know, George Washington or Benjamin Franklin a terrorist; ‘we shall all hang together, or we will all hang separately’. But Margaret did feel that way too, about, you know, Anglos. And so did Spencer before her. “I did not become the Queen’s Prime Minister to break up the British Empire.” Sounds so noble. He just loves his mom. And so sure that Black boys who love their moms in pretty much the same way are, you know, terrorists.

Spencer wasn’t raised to understand these things; we should remember and understand that. (And even for Margaret, suddenly to begin to understand things like this must sometimes feel like betrayal, like disloyalty, disloyalty to Little England.) But looking back from where we are, we have to see the difference; sometimes it is not clever to ignore the obvious and the obviously true, however much it can also be good to start at Spencer’s beginning and roll forward from there, and as relative I suppose as either perspective is. One is schooled, the other obvious; you should not become too angry, but also not too over-schooled. Museum goers generally do not go see the French Impressionists only to see the 19th century revolution in art; it is also before something, too. This is also true of ourselves. I think of myself as being after something, I know, somewhat, what, but I am also before something, something I know not what; I only guess. It is not flattering. But that’s how it is.