Lloyd George
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Frank Dilnot >> Lloyd George
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IV
THE DAREDEVIL STATESMAN
What was the underlying motive in Lloyd George during those years of
feverish combat? Why should he have gone out of his way to deal injury
and to incur enmity? Why was he always in the pose of rebel even when
his friends were in power? Was he anything more than a clever young
politician seeking notoriety by espousing unpopular courses whenever
there was a chance to strike a blow at those high in authority? They
are justifiable questions, and they can be answered quite shortly.
Heaven had given Lloyd George, together with much impulsiveness, the
most sensitive of souls and a kindly heart, together with the
imagination of a poet. Even when he was a boy resentment blazed from
him as he realized the injustices which were suffered by the poorer
people, people who could not raise their voice to protest and who went
on in stolid resignation from childhood to the grave. The example of
his mother, a patient and noble woman, struggling with fate for the
sake of her children, was ever before him. He saw his uncle, a sturdy
Puritan of high character and intelligence, looked down upon, or at
least disapproved of, because of his religious and political opinions,
and this in spite of the fact that Richard Lloyd's beliefs sprang from
selfless emotions and held him in an upright life. As Lloyd George
grew older and mingled with the world he saw how oppression, active or
passive, often went with wealth and power, and that not only material
sustenance, but education and even the right to think, was denied the
vast preponderance of the population by those who through inheritance,
accident, or hardihood had secured the good things of the earth. Every
nerve within him quivered in revolt. And even before he realized the
full extent of the powers that lay within him his ardent spirit was
leaping forward to fight what he regarded as the great giants of
evil--the systems and the customs which gave individuals the power to
hold down those who could not help themselves. He loved his native
land passionately and was saturated with religious feeling, and he was
strung with indignation that the state Church system of England should
continue to be forced upon a nation of Nonconformists, with its
resulting social influence on the people of his land. He was stirred
to the depths by the lives of poor people among whom he had lived his
most impressionable years. Enraged at the mental and moral attitude of
the rich Conservatives who placidly assumed that Providence meant them
to rule the earth and all the lesser horde to bow down to their
inspired will, he was dissatisfied with the stolidity and lethargy of
the official Liberal party, although he himself was a Liberal. When
the Boer War broke out his sense of chivalry and justice was outraged
at the thought that a great people like the British nation should
attempt to crush a tiny pastoral race, even under some provocation.
Thus from the start he devoted himself passionately and whole-heartedly
to the side of the under dog.
Incidentally in this single-handed fight he took a sardonic delight in
shocking those pillars of society who to him were symbols of the
existing order of things. Fiercely he smashed away at idols, however
highly placed, however much revered. At all times and in all
circumstances he was regardless of consequences to himself, a fact
which, together with his gifts, secured for him a certain measure of
concealed respect even from those who hated him most. Withal,
throughout these years of destructiveness his mind was working toward
the formation of a new order of things. Behind and beyond all his
Ishmaelitish tactics there were thoughts of a reconstruction. He may
have been right or wrong in his courses. At any rate, it is necessary
in a sketch of his career to set out the connecting links in years of
activity which to a casual observer may seem disjointed, variable, and
erratic.
A notable incident in his career was when, with practically the whole
country inflamed against him, owing to his attitude on the Boer War, he
decided to go down to Birmingham, the seat and stronghold of Joseph
Chamberlain, and address a public meeting in support of his anti-war
policy. Friends tried to dissuade him. He was not to be dissuaded.
Preparations were quickly set afoot in Birmingham to break up his
meeting. When the evening arrived so great were the hostile crowds
around the town hall, so high their temper, that the chief constable of
the city begged Lloyd George not to risk himself on the platform.
Lloyd George would have none of his suggestion. He went to the hall,
and his appearance was a signal for a riot such as had been unknown for
a generation at a public gathering in Britain. In a frantic fight by
the Chamberlain supporters to reach the platform the sympathizers with
Lloyd George were trampled down. Furniture was broken up, windows were
smashed, several people were seriously injured, and one man was killed.
Lloyd George was smuggled out of the hall in a policeman's uniform.
England rang with the story of the happenings on that night in
Birmingham. Lloyd George was called a coward and sneered at for
allowing himself to get away in disguise, and if poisonous words could
have checked a man's career he would have been finished from that time.
A few days after the riot an M. P. met Joseph Chamberlain in the lobby
of the House of Commons and said to him, "So your people didn't manage
to kill Lloyd George the other night?" "What is everybody's business
is nobody's business," said Chamberlain as he passed on.
It is a tribute to Lloyd George's power among his own people in Wales
that when an election took place in the middle of the war he retained
his seat in Parliament. You get a touch of the kind of man in the
words he spoke to his supporters in the course of his speech after the
declaration of the poll. "While England and Scotland are drunk with
blood, the brain of Wales remains clear, and she advances with steady
step on the road to progress and liberty."
The Conservatives remained in power to the end of 1905, and in the
beginning of 1906 there was a general election which returned to power
a strong Liberal majority augmented by some thirty Labor members. A
vigorous spirit was sweeping through the Liberal ranks. New men had
sprung to the front to take the place of those who had dropped out by
death, old age, or the feeling that modern thought was too advanced for
them. Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, a pawky old Scotsman who became
the Liberal Prime Minister, did not confine the members of his Cabinet
to the respectable leaders of old time, but brought in new blood, among
his selections being Lloyd George. This promotion was unexpected by
the public. Lloyd George had made a big reputation in Parliament, but
it was always that of the free-lance. On vital questions of principle
he was as free from control by the Liberals as by the Conservatives.
He was known as an untamed guerrilla, and that was all. There were
many shrugs of the shoulder, many doubtful whispers, at the hazards
which Campbell-Bannerman was taking in putting such a person into the
Cabinet. True, he was but one of the lesser appointments--namely, that
of president of the Board of Trade--but was he capable of even that
responsibility? Had he any capacity at all as an administrator? These
were the doubts pretty freely expressed in political circles when the
appointments to the new Cabinet were announced.
It is significant of the reserves in Lloyd George that from the time he
took his place among the line of Ministers on the Treasury bench he
began to show signs of qualities unsuspected. Gone was his
combativeness. He answered questions about his department with
urbanity, replied to criticism with courtesy and painstaking detail.
Out of the House he devoted himself assiduously to learning the
intricacies of his department. Very soon reforms began to be
manifested. The Board of Trade, an old and historic department,
largely bound up with red tape, became the most unconventional office
in Whitehall. Moreover, the activities of the Board of Trade began to
get an importance in Parliament that they had never hitherto possessed.
Novel measures were brought in by Lloyd George and, what was more
surprising, were successfully piloted into law by him. His grasp of
detail, his unfailing tact, his readiness to meet reasonable
objections, all contributed to the result. I do not mean that he was
always suave, because occasionally biting sentences would make
themselves felt as of old, but wherever courtesy and politeness were
forthcoming from opponents he returned them in full measure.
Responsibility was certainly having its effect on him.
He passed the Patents and Designs Act, formulated to compel
manufacturers holding British patents to make their goods in Britain
instead of abroad, and he passed also the Merchant Shipping Act, for
the purpose of giving British sailors better food and healthier
conditions of life. While the Board of Trade was thus forging its way
in public estimation it suddenly became the most important Government
department in the country. The railway men all over the lines planned
a strike to get more pay, a strike which would have dislocated if it
had not stopped all the trains in Britain. It is the business of the
Board of Trade to handle labor disputes. Lloyd George was at once in
the vortex. To the surprise of some, he took no extreme view, but
considered it his duty as a Minister first of all to keep the railways
running for the benefit of the community as a whole, and then after
that to secure some arrangement, if it were possible, by which the lot
of the railway men could be bettered. He flung into the struggle for
compromise the whole of the ardor which for years past he had devoted
to combat, and after ceaseless struggles with both sides during some
days and nights lie was successful in fixing up a scheme under which
the railways were continued in operation, and the men got a good deal
of what they asked for. All sections praised him, and the new Lloyd
George was acclaimed as something of a revelation.
His tenure as president of the Board of Trade was his first experience
as Cabinet Minister. He, nevertheless, established innovations the
thought of which would have given respectable and long-established
statesmen a shudder. He cared not a rap for convention. He was not in
the least afraid of his permanent officials, who so often control their
department and their political chief with it. A Cabinet Minister in
Britain is hedged with a certain divinity and is almost unapproachable
except under stated conditions. Lloyd George bewildered people with
his approachability, his unpretentiousness. During the strain of the
railway struggle he would exchange a cheery word with the waiting
newspaper reporters as he passed them on going in or out of his office,
an unheard-of thing for a Cabinet Minister to do. The second day was
cold and inclement when he stopped among them as he approached the
Board of Trade entrance. "There is no need for you gentlemen to wait
outside here in the cold. Come inside and I'll find you a room," he
said. He caused a comfortable apartment to be set aside for them
during their vigil, and each afternoon he caused tea and cigarettes to
be sent down to them to beguile the long period of waiting. Here is
another little story of his early days of office. A railway smash at
Shrewsbury resulted in the death of twenty people and the injury of a
great many more, and in accordance with the usual practice the Board of
Trade sent down immediately an inspector to investigate the cause of
the accident. But on this occasion not only did the inspector go down
to Shrewsbury, but his chief, the president of the Board of Trade,
also, quite a novel course for a high and mighty Cabinet Minister. I
was present as a journalist and remember seeing Lloyd George walking
along by the side of the dismantled lines, threading his way through
the wreckage, putting questions to the railway officials, and generally
seeking to probe out on his own account how the affair occurred. On
behalf of a score of special correspondents who had come down from
London, I stopped Lloyd George in the street as he was walking to his
hotel to ask him about the official inquiry. "Is it to be held in
private, as usual?" I said. "No," replied Lloyd George. "The inquiry
will be in public. Here are twenty people killed and the country has
the right to know why they were killed." That was the way he used to
break precedents. Next day we all went down to the Raven Hotel, the
appointed place, and the inspector proceeded with his work of examining
witnesses. Lloyd George sat by his side. I felt sorry for that
inspector--who usually was monarch of all he surveyed. He was a man of
dignified and leisurely manner. Lloyd George cut in and took the
examination of witnesses out of his mouth and, figuratively speaking,
turned them inside out in trying to get the facts. He did not consider
the position of the inspector one bit. But he made the inquiry a very
interesting one.
Despite his new manner on the Treasury bench in the House of Commons
Lloyd George had lost none of the freshness and suppleness of mind
which had distinguished him as a free-lance, and as he proceeded to do
unexpected things it became apparent he was going to be as vital a
figure in office as he had been on the back benches. Traces of
appreciation showed themselves in public comment, though his ancient
enemies, the Conservatives, held their dislike in reserve, and had some
forebodings in their hearts about the future. They knew quite well by
now that this Welshman could not be read at a glance.
Bits of the old Adam began to show up in Lloyd George's speeches as he
lent his aid on the platform in support of Liberal proposals. I
remember that at this time there was still a good deal of talk by the
Conservatives of tariff reform--that is to say, of the imposition of
import duties for protection and revenue purposes. The Liberals were
against the proposals, fought them strongly, and indeed by their
attitude had won a good deal of support in the election which returned
them to power. Lloyd George made some of his flaming speeches in
support of free trade against protection. Then came one night when the
Board of Trade Minister had to speak in the House of Commons as a
defender of the Government policy against a motion put forth by the
Opposition in favor of tariff reform. After speakers on both sides had
debated the topic for some hours it was Lloyd George's duty to wind up
the discussion for the Government. When he rose there was much
excitement on both sides and a good deal of shouting and
counter-shouting. Remarks were thrown across from the Opposition
benches indicating that Lloyd George's speeches about the evil of
tariff reform on the Continent had been exaggerated. "I have been
challenged," he said, "with regard to statements as to the food of the
poorer people in Germany, and I am going to give now, not my opinion,
but some hard facts." He held up a blue book. "This volume is the
last annual report of the Consul-General in Germany. The facts which I
shall quote are his facts, not mine. If you will not take my word, you
will at any rate be able to take his word." He turned to a marked
page. "Let us see what he says about a typical center, the city of
Chemnitz. Here are some interesting figures as to what the poorer
class eat in this tariff-reform paradise of Chemnitz." He proceeded to
read extracts. I cannot recall the extra figures, but Lloyd George's
phrases ran something like this: "This report states that in Chemnitz
last year there were sold in the shops two thousand tons of
horse-flesh. These are not my figures, mind, but those of the
Consul-General. I commend the figures to excited members opposite.
But horse-flesh is not the only thing the people through the pressure
of tariff reform are compelled to eat in Chemnitz. They even eat
dog-meat." (Cheers from the Liberals and derisive shouts from the
Conservatives.) "The Consul-General states that one thousand tons of
dog-meat were consumed in Chemnitz last year." (More shouting from
both sides.) "But there is even worse to come." Lloyd George's voice
took on a note of gravity, and the House hushed itself to listen. "Not
only horse-flesh, not only dog-meat, but five hundred tons of
donkey-flesh were sold in Chemnitz last year." He swung his finger
along the line of Opposition leaders and paused. "The fact has a
tragic significance for right honorable gentlemen who want to introduce
tariff reform into this country."
Then his speech had to be suspended for a full minute.
At this time the cause of tariff reform was going rapidly downhill.
Austen Chamberlain, the son of Joseph Chamberlain, strove hard to keep
it to the fore, and frequently at intervals in the House of Commons the
protectionist proposals were brought forward. Lloyd George had a
characteristic word to say about the situation one day. "I do not
blame Mr. Austen Chamberlain for sticking to his father. But the
considerations which have made him protectionist are not fiscal, but
filial. History ever repeats itself, and the boy still stands on the
burning deck."
By rapid steps Lloyd George became the outstanding figure of the
Government in which he occupied a comparatively minor position. Soon
he was as prominent in Britain as, when a youth, he was prominent in
Wales. Hardly a week passed in which he was not by his daring speeches
or actions raising storms of anger among opponents or choruses of
approval among the advanced Liberals. Vital force radiated from him.
When Campbell-Bannerman died in 1908 and Asquith, his Chancellor of the
Exchequer, became Prime Minister, it was on Lloyd George that his
choice fell as the new Chancellor. The public, dazzled at Lloyd
George's swift rise, withheld their judgment as to the wisdom of Mr.
Asquith's experiment in this elevation of the Welshman to the post of
second statesman in the United Kingdom. As for Lloyd George himself,
he took up the position with calmness and a gleaming eye. At last he
had his hand on the helm.
V
THE FIRST GREAT TASK
The biggest day in Lloyd George's life until he was called upon by the
King to form a Government was Thursday, April 29, 1909. On that day he
presented to Parliament and the country his first Budget--the framework
of taxation and legislation which was to be the foundation of a new
social system in Britain--which incidentally was to break the power of
the House of Lords and to lead to such a storm among all classes that the
aid of the King himself had to be invoked in order to carry out the plan
of the Welsh statesman.
A dramatic situation had arisen at Westminster. Up to 1906 when the
Liberals were returned by a large majority the Conservatives, with the
exception of a short break, had been in power for twenty years. Another
generation of the people had come to adult life since the early eighties
when the Liberals were last in real power, and a new set of Liberal
statesmen with advanced ideals had been put into office. The exultation
among the forces of progress was great. The hot hopes were to have a
speedy quenching. The laws of England are passed by the joint consent of
the King, the House of Lords, and the House of Commons. The House of
Commons is an electoral body, but the House of Lords has a hereditary
membership, descending from father to son. Of the six hundred members of
the House of Lords five hundred are Conservatives. The Conservative
minority in the Commons, faced with startling Liberal reforms, called to
their aid the five hundred stalwarts in the Lords, and the consequence
was that the sweeping measures introduced by the Liberals were promptly
thrown out by the Lords. Thus an intolerable situation presented itself
to the Liberal majority chosen by the nation to direct its Government.
Lloyd George, on being appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer, at once set
himself the task of meeting the difficulty, and there were weapons to his
hand. He planned not only an elaborate scheme of reform, but also the
means of putting it into execution in face of the House of Lords. The
ostensible function of the Budget is to provide a schedule of taxation
for the coming year in order to meet the current needs of the country.
Lloyd George's plan was to put forward his own conception of "the needs
of the country" and then to raise the money on account of them. He
purposed to bring about a wholesale readjustment between rich and poor
and to use the readjustment as a basis for developments in the future.
That was his bold and carefully devised plan of action. It will be asked
at once why the Lords could not frustrate this intention as well as those
embodied in the other Liberal bills they had thrown out. This was the
reason: the Lords were prevented by the constitution from altering money
bills sent up to them by the Commons, though they might do what they
liked with other bills. The people provided the taxes, the Commons are
elected by the people, and the power of the purse possessed by the
Commons gives the people the command in affairs of state. As long ago as
the time of Charles II. this rule about the Commons and Lords with
respect to money supplies was emphatically laid down. Lloyd George's
scheme was to wrap up social changes in his Budget and to dare the Lords
to meddle with them, inasmuch as they were part and parcel of a money
bill.
The country had no idea of this deep-rooted plan. Something sensational
was expected of Lloyd George, but his proposals, it was thought, would be
of a purely financial nature, including, possibly, heavy taxation of rich
people and relief of the indirect taxation of the poor. As a matter of
fact, Lloyd George, walking over from Downing Street to the House of
Commons on that Thursday afternoon, had three secrets in the leather
despatch-case he carried in his hand. One was the amount of money he was
going to raise, the second the sources from which he was going to obtain
it, and third the way in which the money was to be spent. Those of us
who saw him walking briskly across Palace Yard that afternoon in company
with Mr. Winston Churchill little thought that the small brown
despatch-case held plans which within three years were to alter vitally
the constitution of the United Kingdom as it had existed for eight
hundred years.
The national financial position was known in the morning before Lloyd
George made his speech. The amount needed for the current year by the
country for the army, navy, civil services, and social relief was
164,152,000 pounds. The revenue to be expected on the existing basis of
taxation was 148,390,000 pounds. A deficit of nearly 16,000,000 pounds
had, therefore, to be provided for. In addition, in the framing of this
as of other Budgets, regard was necessary to the automatic increase of
certain expenditures in coming years, increases which must be met by the
expanding capacity of schemes of revenue. (Though the Budget is an
annual affair, a good many of its features are necessarily continuing.)
After all this has been taken into account there must be remembered that
Lloyd George was planning still further expenditure. He had therefore to
get piles of money from somewhere or other and to make sure of it in
increasing volume as years went on.
I was present in the House of Commons to describe the Budget scene. The
Chamber was packed and was quivering with excitement when at four minutes
to three, during the preliminary business, Lloyd George, with a red
despatch-box in his hand, came into view from behind the Speaker's chair,
and passed with alert and nervous steps to the place on the Treasury
bench reserved for him between the Prime Minister, Mr. Asquith, and Mr.
Churchill. I can see Lloyd George now as he sat bolt-upright with one
knee crossed over the other, waiting for the moment when the chairman
should call on him. His face was pale and his eyes were rather dull. He
looked a little overwrought. He was feeling the tension; so much was
obvious. I remember wondering if he had reached the limit of his
strength, whether he was really big enough in spirit for the ordeal that
lay before him.
Within ten minutes the formal business of the day was over, and the
chairman, standing up on his dais, announced, "Mr. Chancellor of the
Exchequer." Lloyd George rose to the table. He seemed almost an
insignificant figure in the midst of the crowded assembly. Members were
filling all the seats, some squatting on the steps of the Speaker's
chair, others standing together in the space below the bar at the farther
end of the House. The galleries banked overhead were occupied by
distinguished visitors, foreign ambassadors, members of the House of
Lords, ladies of title, distinguished men of thought and action. It was
such an audience as is given to but few men in a lifetime.
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