Chapter IV: Foreword (3)

If any of the Lords thought that the threats used against them in the course of the election meant nothing and were only a kind of bluster to get the Budget passed, they were grievously mistaken. It must have been hard for them to realize that Lloyd George meant all the presumptuous things he said. He was never more in earnest. A cut-and-dried plan had been arranged between him and Mr. Asquith with regard to the Lords. The plan was no less than this--to take away from the peers their constitutional rights to do more than to hold up for three successive sessions any legislation passed by the House of Commons. They were not to have the power of killing bills, though they might retard them a little. And so far as money bills were concerned they were not to be allowed to delay them at all. The Commons were to be given power to pass any money bill over the head of the Lords if the latter did not agree to it immediately it was sent up to them. In these cases the King and Commons between them were to be the lawmaking power, and as the King's assent is always automatically given to the proposals of Ministers in power the net result would be the complete supremacy of the Commons in Government.

But how were these changes to be made effective? They could, of course, only be brought into force by legal enactment, and it was impossible to expect the Lords to sign their own death warrant. It was settled between Lloyd George and Mr. Asquith to take the House of Lords by the throat. Lloyd George was prepared for extreme measures, and Mr. Asquith, a student of English history, found out a way by means of ancient precedent. Twice before in the story of the British Parliament there had been similar episodes. In the reign of Queen Anne and in the reign of William IV. the Prime Minister of the day, encountering opposition from the House of Lords, had gone to the reigning sovereign and secured the promise of the creation of enough new peers to turn the minority in the House of Lords into a preponderance of votes. This was the plan now agreed upon, only the audacity of it was far greater than on previous occasions, because Queen Anne's new peers numbered but twelve and the number of new peers proposed to be created in 1832 to pass the Reform bill under William IV. was limited to eighty. Mr. Asquith and Lloyd George faced the fact that on this occasion it would be necessary to create something like five hundred new peers.

I pass over some of the intervening stages--the howls that came from the Lords, who saw their prestige departing with this wholesale dilution of their order; the choking attempts which the peer leaders made to be civil of tongue and to arrange a compromise. Merciless was the determination of Lloyd George. Another general election on the specific issue of the power of the Lords again resulted in the return of the Liberals to office.

The Government proposals for the restriction of the future functions of the Lords were embodied in a measure called the Parliament bill, and it was for the Lords to pass this measure or else to suffer the immediate creation of the army of new peers who had been nominated by Mr. Asquith and who would immediately vote down the existing Conservative majority in the gilded chamber.

The climax was reached on August 9, 1911, when the bill, having passed through the Commons, was brought up to the House of Lords for their decision. The peers by this time were torn between two impulses. One, the most natural, was to defy Mr. Asquith and Lloyd George and all their wicked companions, and let them create what peers they liked, and the other to swallow the medicine, pass the Parliament bill, and thus, while limiting their own powers for the future, preserve their ancient caste and dignity.

It was touch and go throughout an excited discussion. Lord Morley, plain John Morley of the years gone by, made a speech of three sentences in which he said he was authorized to state that the King would assent to the creation of the extra peers if the bill were not passed. Wild hopes that the King would stand by the Lords were thus extinguished. There were dramatic scenes never to be forgotten by those who witnessed them, and then finally the bill was accepted by a majority of seventeen votes. The power of the House of Lords, strong for centuries, had been broken. The man who had broken it was Lloyd George.

VII

AT HOME AND IN DOWNING STREET

In the midst of all the stormy times of the fight with the House of Lords and afterward up to the present moment Lloyd George's personal life in its simplicity and happiness has been a standing contrast to the turmoil and passion of his public energy. Meet Lloyd George among his family, and it is hard to realize that such a homely, genial person could be the man who tackled so rancorously the House of Lords. I went to 11 Downing Street one day after the Budget fight was over, and when, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lloyd George was preparing further legislative changes. Eleven Downing Street, it should be explained, is the official residence of the Chancellor of the Exchequer and joins number 10, where the Prime Minister lives. It is a dingy, ugly-looking building, attractive only by reason of its associations. In the year that America declared her independence number 10 Downing Street was the residence of Lord North, and it may then, as now, have had connecting doors which made the two houses into practically one official home.

Lloyd George discussed public affairs in a corner of the old library lined with books which Gladstone used to consult half a century ago and his predecessors before him. A glance round the rows of volumes, nearly all of them ponderous and many of them venerable, caused me to ask Lloyd George who was his favorite author. He gave me no philosopher, not even a poet, in reply. "I like romance," he said, "historical romance. I am fond of Dumas and of modern writers like Stanley Weyman." Possibly Lloyd George has never looked into those old, handsome, leather-covered volumes at his official residence. His secretaries may have pondered over them in securing material for their chief, but Lloyd George has been too busy doing things to devote much time to ancient philosophical reflections or to learned economic theories. It is easy to understand how his temperament found satisfaction and relaxation at the same time in the cut-and-thrust work of Dumas and Weyman. I ought, perhaps, to add that he explained with a smile how politics did not leave him much time for serious reading just then. They have certainly left him still less since that time.

We were in the thick of talk about the busy political era when a little girl of twelve, with a ribbon of blue round her tumbling hair, came running into the room, not knowing that a visitor was present. She would have run out again, upon seeing me, if her father had not stopped her and caught her into his arms. For the rest of the interview she sat on his knee, listening with big, live eyes to the conversation. Once she cuddled closer to her father and laughed merrily as he confessed to me that his next bill before Parliament was one to prohibit the holidays of little girls at school from lasting more than six weeks. Megan was the darling of her father's heart. Two or three mornings of the week you could have seen them hand in hand walking from 11 Downing Street across St. James's Park to watch the ducks feeding in the lake. With sparkling blue eyes, a sensitive mouth, and vivacious manner, little Megan had some of her father's characteristics. She was a daughter any father might be proud of. I guarantee Lloyd George was prouder of her--and still is--than of his epoch-making Budget or his historic victory over the House of Lords. Just now in Parliamentary session, or indeed out of it, Lloyd George has not very much time for walks in the parks--but I am sure Megan gets her share of attention in spite of the European war.

The war has, of course, intensified Lloyd George's life and somewhat altered its channels, but its main directions are preserved. At all hours of day and night he must be prepared for service. He could not, however, carry on his work without proper rest and sleep, and the following is the kind of routine to which he has accustomed himself. Awakening at seven in the morning, he has a quick glance through the principal newspapers, not only of London, but those from the provinces and from abroad as well. Occasionally while he is dressing, and always before he leaves his room, he looks through documents and papers which he has brought up to his bedside on the previous night. (They are arranged in their proper order on a table by the side of his bed so that in any waking fit at night he can put his hand on them readily.)

Visitors begin to arrive early, because Lloyd George has re-established the practice of Victorian statesmen in having guests to breakfast with him and his family. By this means he not only saves time from many social functions, but gets through a lot of business as well, for his breakfast guests include politicians, editors, leading officials, prominent travelers from overseas, indeed practically the whole range of persons who for state or private reasons he desires to meet.

Soon after ten o'clock he is busy with his secretaries. These have already been at work on the morning letters, which in the days when he was Chancellor of the Exchequer numbered a thousand a day and are now probably three or four times as many. Work of a widely different kind keeps Lloyd George on the go till lunch-time--departmental conferences, visits from or to Cabinet Ministers, the supervision of answers to questions to be put to him in the House of Commons that afternoon, the reception of deputations from various interests affected by current proposals or future proposals that he is making. At least once a week, and sometimes more frequently, there is a Cabinet meeting in the morning that probably lasts well into the afternoon. On days when there is no Cabinet meeting there will be other visitors at lunch-time, and these are generally of an official character. Big plans affecting the social future of England have undoubtedly been worked out over Lloyd George's lunch-table. He is a vivid talker himself, but he is also a good listener, and there is not any one more ready to give an ear to tactful and helpful advice--only those who offer it must have something to say.

At a quarter to three in the afternoon the House of Commons assembles, and from that time onward to eleven o'clock at night Lloyd George is to be found either on the Treasury bench or in his private room behind the Speaker's chair. Endless are the occupations for a busy Minister in Parliament, and whether he is answering questions, expounding policy, fighting through details of proposals, or merely listening to the speeches of opponents, he is pretty well on the stretch the whole time. Even in his own room there is business to be done, deputations to be received, "whips" to be consulted, friendly or hostile talks to be gone through with members, and frequently also the reception of individual visitors. All this takes no account of social usages, the little hospitalities which must not be forgotten--the accompanying of groups of constituents to the public galleries, the entertainment of other groups to tea on the Terrace overlooking the river. Sometimes an hour may be seized for the House of Lords at the other end of the corridor when they are dealing with Commons legislation.

I asked Lloyd George how he managed to sleep after such days as these, and he said: "I never have any difficulty about that. Downing Street is only about four minutes' walk from the House of Commons. If the House adjourns at eleven I am usually away by twenty minutes past, and at a quarter to twelve I am in bed--probably asleep. This power for quick sleep has always been a great help to me."

The Lloyd George family at home consisted of Mr. and Mrs. George, two sons, and two daughters. Of the two boys, both in the twenties, one was at Cambridge University and the other in a responsible position as a civil engineer. Both are now soldiers, fighting in France. There are two girls, Megan and her sister, Olwen, a charming girl who has lately become engaged to a medical officer in the army. There is another person who frequently completes the family circle at 11 Downing Street. It is Richard Lloyd, the old shoemaker who forty years ago risked his little all to educate his orphan nephew. It was one of the pleasurable anticipations of Lloyd George, when he was appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer with the privileges of this historic residence, that Richard Lloyd would be able to come and stay there. "My dear old uncle," he said, "will be so proud to come and stay at the house in which Gladstone, his great hero, at one time lived."

Lloyd George is wiry, but no man, however strong, could continue indefinitely to put himself under such a strain as I have indicated without occasional complete rest. When he is not under too heavy a time he will go for a weekend's golf to Walton Heath, some twenty miles from London, in Surrey, or spend a couple of days at Brighton on the south coast. But when he is really exhausted there is only one place for him, and that is his beautiful home near Criccieth, about a mile from Llanystumdwy, where he spent his boyhood. On the hills rising from behind Criccieth and forming the foot of the Snowdon range he has built a graceful residence, whence he can look down over the wooded slopes to Criccieth and thence to Carnarvon Bay. On the other side the house faces the snow-capped mountains. From every window there is a beautiful scene. A lane leading from the gates, between towering hedges, winds through fields and woods down to Llanystumdwy.

With the charm of mountains, countryside, and sea there goes an invigorating atmosphere. "When I am exhausted," said Lloyd George to me once, "I come down here from London and I sleep long nights. In the daytime I sit out here on the veranda in a basket-chair with a rug around me, facing the sea, and here I rest and sometimes sleep. This beautiful Welsh air wraps me all round with its healing touch, and I let it do its work, and I am soon well again." During these recuperative days Lloyd George does no business, writes no letters, receives no visitors, sees no one but members of his own family. After about three days of this treatment he is recovering himself.

One day in a lane near Criccieth I met him in tweed suit and soft gray hat, with field-glasses strapped around him, and a stout walking-stick in his hand. He had been at Criccieth a fortnight, and thoughts of work were again seizing hold of him. He had in prospect a big scheme of land legislation that was to continue and develop the movement begun in the Budget. (A little later the war cut the project short.) "I am going for a walk up to the mountains," he said. "I can do my thinking best when I am out walking alone." Afterward I wondered what new revolution to startle the landed aristocracy of Britain he devised on that summer day by himself among the mountains. Curiously enough, Lloyd George does not like exercise for his own sake, but he enjoys it when he has a mental task in hand; he also enjoys it during a game of golf. I once heard him say that without golf he would never have thought of taking a four-mile walk for recreation. It is worthy of mention in connection with this that he has been described at second hand on his own confession as being a very lazy man, and that he has sometimes absolutely to force himself to a settled task--and, strange as it may appear, there is nothing in this inconsistent with the public estimation of him as a person of uncontrollable energy. Let his heart be given to an object, and there is no effort he will spare, no degree of fatigue to which he will not drive himself.

Intensely fond of an open-air life, Lloyd George's days at Criccieth are always a joy to him. You will come across him unexpectedly on the bank of the river Dwyfor with a fishing-rod in his hand, trying for trout. You will see him sometimes in the early morning at work in his garden in his endeavor to demonstrate that fruit trees will grow as well in Welsh soil as in the warm, red earth of Devonshire. Sometimes he and his wife, with perhaps one of his sons, will put a couple of tents into an automobile, start off up among the mountains, and camp out in some lonely and romantic spot for days at a time, living the primitive life entirely by themselves.

Strange it is to observe the attitude of the people of the countryside where he was brought up and where he built his early fame. There are a scattered few of the middle classes who in this remote country spot cannot understand the heights he has reached in public estimation. It is really a weird sensation to come from the outer world and talk to these people. No, no, he may to some extent have secured notoriety in circles even as far off as London, but really there is nothing in the man. Why, he was brought up here in the village! But these quaintly prejudiced folk are, after all, but a remnant, and the great mass of people all around in the farms and cottages prize his fame highly. The pride with which a villager refers to the fact that he went to school with Mr. Lloyd George must be one of the highest pleasures experienced by the Welsh statesman. It is an event to go to a meeting in the institute at Llanystumdwy and hear him address a crowded meeting of his compatriots in their native tongue and with all the old affectionate familiarity of a long-standing friend and neighbor. The rolling music of the ancient language is echoed back from the enthusiastic Celts in a kind of rhythmic ecstasy which thrills even the ignorant and alien Sassenach visitor. Lloyd George is still one of themselves. It is indeed hard for them to realize his position in the outside world, though they are so proud of it. To Criccieth and Llanystumdwy he is not so much the prominent statesman of the United Kingdom as just Lloyd George, the friend who grew up with them. He will never be anything else to them. It is all quite delightful and, one may add, quite bewildering to his enemies, who cannot understand that such unconcealed and regardless simplicity is an integral part of the nature of him whom they regard as a malignant. I have seen Lloyd George in a hundred capacities, electrifying a multitude, in the thick of battle with the cleverest minds of Parliament, attacking to their faces with relentless ferocity men of the noblest descent in Britain, and yet I know of nothing in his life which approaches in interest his relations with his old village friends of long ago. They like him for himself and not for what he has become, though they are so proud of him. One elderly lady, a friend of the Lloyd George family, when paying a visit to London heard that Lloyd George was to address a London meeting, and she thought she would like to go and hear him. She presented herself at the hall and was nearly swept off her feet by the surging crowd making its way in. After reaching one of the corridors with difficulty, she got an attendant to take her name in to Mrs. Lloyd George. The latter, who was on the platform, hurried out to her old friend and took her to a seat in the front of the hall. The building was packed in every part. Lloyd George got one of his usual receptions and made one of his usual speeches. The old lady was staggered. She went back to Wales full of the wonderful experience--and it has to be remembered that she had known Lloyd George all her life. "I have heard that he has become a well-known man," she said, "but I never understood what an important man he was till I went to that meeting."

There is another reflection about his home life which must occur to any visitor to the locality. Big houses and lovely grounds lay off the main road in the neighborhood, undoubtedly the homes of country gentlefolk. And one may venture to surmise their attitude toward this public firebrand who lives in their vicinity and used to be a village boy under the care of his uncle, the shoemaker. Is he on their visiting-list? I rather suspect not. The world must be turning topsy-turvy for them when they allow themselves to reflect, as they must at times, that this upstart has the entry to royal palaces and is one of the principal advisers of the King of England. I have an idea that something more potent than gall and wormwood is required to express their feelings. All this before the war. What can possibly be the attitude of mind of the local squires and lordlings now that this man has become an international statesman, probably the most forcible personality among that group of men who sit in conference to direct the activities and formulate the destinies of great European nations. Possibly I do them an injustice, and their habits of mind have changed of late.

During the big Budget fight Lloyd George, by virtue of his official position, had to attend occasional society functions. There was a duchess who could not avoid shaking hands with this person, who to her and her class was a monstrosity. After he had gone she spoke of the encounter to a friend with surprise in her voice. "I have just met Lloyd George," she said. "Do you know that he is really quite a nice man?" I have the impression that neither squires nor duchesses trouble Lloyd George very much, and that when this war is over and victory for his country secured he will go down to Criccieth and enjoy himself thoroughly in a golf-match with the local schoolmaster or one of the farmers of the district.

VIII

A CHAMPION OF WAR

The psychology of a community is as mysterious and subtle as that of an individual, and Lloyd George, despite all his so-called extravagance, all his depredations, and all his wounding words, was by way of being an acknowledged power in the country by the time the war with Germany burst out of the sky. The mysterious strength of the man worked on people against their will. Besides, there were tangible things which had to be faced. He had settled the great railway strike, he had passed several sweeping Acts of Parliament, he had brought into effect the iniquitous Budget, he had dismantled the British constitution by taking away the powers of the House of Lords. You may sneer at such a man, you may hate him, but you cannot ignore him. Sincere and religiously minded ladies used to write to the papers, wondering in all sincerity why Heaven permitted such a man to continue to live. A peer of the realm told his tenants that he would roast an ox whole for them in celebration of the day that Lloyd George went out of office, and, on top of this, the announcement that Lloyd George was going to speak drew together the unprecedented gathering of sixteen thousand people to hear him on a special day in the Midlands. You can sort out these varied facts to suit yourself, but taken altogether they convey a lesson. Let me add another point. Lloyd George, growing in influence, for years had been the special mark of attack for the _Daily Mail_, Lord Northcliffe's popular morning paper. When, after his House of Lords fight had been brought to a finish, Lloyd George set himself to a new colossal piece of legislation--namely, national health insurance--there was a concentrated attack by the _Daily Mail_ to break the "poll tax" and Lloyd George with it. There had been a stream of violent criticism from the Northcliffe papers during the Budget days and the House of Lords battle, but the abuse was distributed pretty evenly upon the Government, though Lloyd George and Mr. Asquith got the major share. On this occasion all the guns were brought to bear on Lloyd George. The insurance tax was unpopular, and nothing that ridicule, covert insult, or open denunciation could achieve was left undone by the Northcliffe papers to smash Lloyd George and his policy. There was plenty of scope for attack. The Insurance Act was undoubtedly hurriedly conceived, and its complexities incompletely dovetailed. Whatever the merit of the conception, there had to be a score of rectifications when the measure came into operation. Some of Lloyd George's best friends complained of the injustices and irregularities of the Act. The _Daily Mail_ was in the van of attack. To me it is surprising his assailants did not get Lloyd George down over this matter. They did not get him down. He carried the insurance bill, he forced it into operation, and he had left another milestone in his career behind him some time before the catastrophe of the European war appeared.

The country took a deep breath when the first shock of hostilities with Germany occurred, and then turned a passing attention to the British Cabinet, from which two or three members, including Lord Morley and Mr. John Burns, had resigned, presumably on account of their disapproval of the Government's action in going to war. Remarks came thick and fast as to the attitude of Ministers, and for a time it was suggested that Lloyd George was one of those who were on the verge of resignation. There was nothing impossible in the suggestion. A hater of wars, a fighter against wars all his life, he seemed just the kind of man to go adrift, and a good deal of movement was in readiness for the event. Special writers on the Conservative press sharpened their pencils assiduously for the announcement which could not be very long delayed. It must be remembered that Lloyd George in his earlier years had seemed to take a perverse delight in being on the unpopular side, and now to join what were called the "Pro-Germans" would really give him a chance for unpopularity such as he might never meet again.

He did not resign, and then the bigger men among his late opponents began to express the hope that in the conjunction of the parties now set up Lloyd George would come forward with his unexampled power over the democracy of Britain and stimulate them with trumpet note to the great effort that lay before them. I remember that Mr. Garvin, a doughty Conservative writer, came forward with a well-attuned appeal to Lloyd George to take the place which belonged to him as the leader of the common people of Britain. Little did he think that before many months were past Lloyd George would, by consent, be the leader of the whole nation, rich and poor alike.

For a week or two Lloyd George was quiet, and then it was announced that he would speak at a gathering in the Queen's Hall in the West End of London. A rush for tickets followed. I remember how crowded was the hall and how intensely silent was every soul when Lloyd George, wearing a gray summer suit with a black necktie, stepped to the front of the platform. There was none of the old, fierce, gay, fighting glitter about him. His mobile face was touched with gravity, his eyes were thoughtful, not provocative. He stood very erect, but his chin was drawn in a little, and his head canted forward. Responsibility lay on him, and every one could see it.

We all speculated on what he would say. Was he to make a half-and-half defense of the Cabinet war policy? Was he to try to explain why he had not resigned? He was always a master of the unexpected. What had he in store for us now? Speaking in the midst of a dramatic silence he said these words, slowly, almost conversationally: "There is no man who has always regarded the prospect of engaging in a great war with greater reluctance and greater repugnance than I have done through all my political life. There is no man more convinced that we could not have avoided it without national dishonor." That was the beginning of the most effective war speech since the start of hostilities. With scorn and logic and invective he raked the German position, and in a thrilling outburst invoked all that was honest, loyal, and strong in the British people to strike hard and deep on behalf of outraged Belgium. That was the first war speech of his life. The second was not long in following. It was made at the City Temple, a famous Nonconformist church in the heart of London. There it was that he said the same reason that made him a "Pro-Boer" made him an advocate of this war by Britain. He referred to the riotous Birmingham meeting. "It was a meeting convened to support exactly the same principle of opposition to the idea that great and powerful empires ought to have the right to crush small nationalities. We might have been right, we might have been wrong, but the principle that drove me to resist even our own country is the one that has brought me here to-night to support my country."

All through his life from boyhood onward Lloyd George had been a magnetic figure, one round whom action eddied in emergency. In any movement in which he was associated he automatically became the central personage, the individual looked to for inspiration and for motive power. Thus it was after his active entry into the patriotic campaign. The silent Kitchener at the War Office, the clear-headed Mr. Asquith at the head of the Government, were, by virtue of their positions, in the forefront, but within a week or two the newspapers and the public were calling attention to Lloyd George's services on behalf of the nation. His work as Chancellor of the Exchequer was indeed important; his personality made him even more important.

The shock of war had dislocated the financial system of the world and London, as the center of the financial system, was in the throes. Imagine Lloyd George as Finance Minister and the possibilities are obvious. Rapidly, drastically, and with his usual unexpectedness he began to act. His Budget with its tax on property had alienated from him the bankers and great financial houses, even where they were not previously prejudiced by their Conservative tendencies, and he had become anathema to them all. They had sneered at his originality, they had called him an ignorant person and spat out their contempt at him, but he had blithely brought them all to his will, whether they liked it or not, cheerfully throwing in a few words of warning and denunciation while he stripped them. Imagine, then, what he did in this crisis. He sent confidently to these old enemies of his, the leaders of the commercial and financial world, and said: "This country is thrown into financial chaos. I want the assistance of the best brains of expert people. I want you to give me your help as to the best way of putting things straight. I require that help at once. Will you come down immediately to 11 Downing Street and see me?" They went down to Downing Street. It was no time to hesitate. The arch-fiend might yet prove a savior. At Downing Street they found Lloyd George the most courteous man in high position they had ever met. He sat at their feet, so to speak. He listened attentively to all their opinions, and evolved from their various statements a true picture of the case. Then he took their suggested remedies one by one and quickly drew up schemes of relief--all the time with their co-operation and advice.

His quick mind pretty soon probed the length and depth of the situation. The firebrand and mob orator was, within a period of days, skilfully and delicately handling the tangled skein of national finance, winning golden opinions from his ancient opponents, not only by his mastery of technique, but also by the bold way he welded their views for new remedies.

Lloyd George went before the public and explained it all with a clearness and potency which made it apparent that money was as important as soldiers. It was in his first big speech on these lines that he coined the phrase "silver bullets" and made the nation understand that among his other operations was that of raising a huge war loan, to which every patriot must subscribe. "We need all our resources, not merely the men, but the cash. We have won with the 'silver bullet' before. We financed Europe in the greatest war we ever fought, and that is how we won." It was in this speech that he showed clearly the importance of giving British finance stability, and how that stability was threatened. A boy at school might have followed his explanation. "We have not only our own business to run; we are an essential part of the machinery that runs the whole international trade of the world. We provide capital and raise produce. We carry half the produce, not merely of our own country, but of the whole world. More than that, we provide the capital that moves that produce from one part of the world to another, not merely for ourselves, but for other countries. I ask every one to pick up just one little piece of paper, one bill of exchange, to find out what we are doing. Take the cotton trade of the world. Cotton is moved first of all from the plantation, say to the Mississippi, then down to New Orleans, then it is moved from there either to Great Britain or to Germany or elsewhere. Every movement is represented by a paper signed either here in London or in Manchester or Liverpool; one sender is practically responsible for the whole of these transactions. Not only that, but when the United States of America buys silk or tea from China, the payment is made through London. By means of these documents accepted in London New York pays for the tea bought in China. What has happened? All this fine, delicate paper machinery has been crashed into by a great war affecting more than half, and nearly two-thirds, of the whole population of the world. Confusion was inevitable. It was just as if one gave a violent kick to an ant-hill. The deadlock was not due to lack of credit in this country; it was due entirely to the fact that there was a failure of remittances from abroad. Take the whole of these bills of exchange. There were balances representing between 350,000,000 pounds and 500,000,000 pounds. There was that amount of paper out at that time with British signatures. Most of it had been discounted. The cash had been found at home from British sources, and failure was not due to the fact that Britain had not paid all her creditors abroad: it was due entirely to the fact that those abroad had not paid Great Britain."

That was the position as Lloyd George presented it, and the position with which he proceeded to deal, in a matter of hours, handling hundreds of millions with the confidence with which an enterprising tradesman handles dollars. A temporary moratorium for debts was established, balances were placed at the disposal of bankers, and guarantees given for the payment of bills accepted by British houses. There were other arrangements carried out equally swiftly. "An estimate of our national assets," said Lloyd George, in explanation of his action, "is 17,000,000,000 pounds. To allow the credit of the country to be put in doubt for twenty-four hours in respect of 350,000,000 pounds, most of it owing to our own people, would have been a criminal act of foolishness."

The financial houses cried blessings on Lloyd George's head. Even the _Daily Mail_ gave him a careful word of praise. As for a great part of the country, it somehow got the impression that finance, under Lloyd George, was at least as important as military operations, and indeed the glowing speeches of the Chancellor of the Exchequer almost gave the impression that it was more important. When the Welsh statesman flung himself into an endeavor the business of the moment was to him the most important thing in all the world, and his own supreme belief made other people think so, too. By general consent Lloyd George did extremely well in his bold, rapid, and unconventional financial policy. He was, nevertheless, one of the first to realize that a new strong policy in directions other than finance was necessary if ultimate victory was to be achieved. Indeed, before the end of that fateful five months of 1914, during which a sturdy British army of less than two hundred thousand men had, under the pressure of the German hosts, been fighting a retreat, yard by yard and mile by mile, in a way which will live forever in British military history, there had been forced upon Lloyd George as one of the principal members of the Cabinet that there were grave deficiencies at the front in equipment, that the British soldiers, unsurpassable for valor, for their individual skill, and their contempt of death, were being, not only overwhelmed by German numbers, but swept down by gun-fire which was in extent and in power tremendously superior to that of the British. It was a deadening, horrible thought. All the fighting spirit of Lloyd George rose to meet the emergency. His financial arrangements were in train and going well. He was, it is true, Chancellor of the Exchequer, but he was also Lloyd George, and with the whole impetuosity of his nature he turned his attention to the needs of the British army in the field. His colleagues in the Cabinet were patriots and were able men, but they had not his lively imagination. Some of them had more technical knowledge, but their pedestrian processes of mind took very different channels from his lightning intuitions. I imagine sometimes that he was not very tactful. It is impossible to doubt that this was the time when he first became impatient with the methods of his chief, Mr. Asquith. It is equally impossible to doubt that at this time, also, he was moved sufficiently to challenge the policy of those in charge of the War Office, those on whose advice the Prime Minister naturally relied.

The existing methods were subsequently criticised as slow, conventional, unillumined by modern experiences. Our soldiers, it was said, were being swept out of action by an intensity and plenitude of new high-explosive shells, while we proceeded in the use of ordinary shells in ordinary quantities. We needed immensely greater numbers of shells, enormously improved shells, vast amounts of high explosive, new big guns, indeed a score of things, which were afterward obtained. Lloyd George at this period saw that, as usual, Britain was just "muddling through," relying on her stolidity and her power of endurance, rather than on her initiative and striking strength. His efforts to improve matters within Government circles could not have endeared him to his Government colleagues. But his blood was up, and he cared as little for their good opinion as he did for the good opinion of the squires and clergymen when he started professional life in Wales.

A movement was made to increase and better equipment, but it was slow and, in Lloyd George's view, it was ineffective. He fought on. At length he succeeded in impressing the seriousness of the situation on the Government, and it was just about this time that he became possessed of a powerful ally. The _Daily Mail_, in past years the most vindictive foe of Lloyd George, swung around to his support, took up the cry of insufficient shells, attacked Lord Kitchener, raised a scandal in the country. The _Times_, which now, like the _Daily Mail_, was under the proprietorship of Lord Northcliffe, joined in the fray. Extravagant and unjustifiable condemnation of Lord Kitchener shocked the public, but, at the same time, there was revealed an undoubtedly grave state of affairs in the insufficient provision of shells and explosives and other war material. A political upheaval followed. The Liberal Government was replaced by a Coalition Government, with Mr. Asquith still in command, but with Conservatives in the Ministry and with Lloyd George no longer Chancellor of the Exchequer, but Minister of Munitions, a new post created for him, that he might organize the country for the supply of needed war material for our soldiers at the front. At the same time started that informal, but effective, alliance between those sworn enemies of old, Lloyd George and Lord Northcliffe, an alliance between the two most powerful men of action in Britain in our generation.

IX

THE ALLIANCE WITH NORTHCLIFFE

I regard Lloyd George as the most interesting man in public life in Britain to-day. There is, however, another very interesting man in the country, though on a different plane from the Prime Minister. I mean Lord Northcliffe--the Alfred Harmsworth who started life for himself without help at seventeen, was a rich newspaper proprietor at thirty, and at forty was a national figure with wealth which would satisfy the wildest visions of any seeker after gold. He is about the same age as Lloyd George, and he has reached his zenith at about the same time. He is the principal owner, not only of the popular _Daily Mail_, but also of the famous _Times_, to say nothing of some forty other journals of various kinds. He is the inspiring spirit of all his publications, and I should think the papers which he controls convey their message, good, bad, or indifferent, to not less than six millions of people every day. The range of his influence is obvious, and though it is an influence primarily of the middle classes, it reacts upward and downward, and makes itself felt even on those who dislike his policies. Northcliffe is undoubtedly patriotic and is sincere, but he is, above all other things, a newspaper man. The huge circulations of his papers tell their story of his mind. He is a genius in knowing what will interest the common intelligence. He has labeled himself, sincerely enough, a Conservative in state affairs, though in his highly successful business he has never hesitated in trampling down conventions. I have to say this, moreover, that those who are brought into personal touch with Northcliffe, whether they agree with his opinions or not, find in him an appreciative employer, a generous-hearted friend, and a man always with big impulses. He is essentially a practical man. He has no dreams of improving the race, no gleaming visions of a community relieved of poverty and kindred ills.

Northcliffe was for years Lloyd George's most bitter public critic. He has now become his ally in the government of the British Empire. Despite the difference in their outlook on life, there are wonderful resemblances between the two men. There are sympathies, too. Northcliffe early recognized that Lloyd George was a person to be watched, not because of his speeches, but because he was a man of action and a man who got things done. On the other hand, Lloyd George, under cruel attacks, once said, reflectively: "What a power this man Northcliffe might be if he chose! He could carry through a political project while we were thinking about it. We talk of tackling the question of housing the poor people of this country. He could do it single-handed." To this a companion pointed out that he was asking too much of Northcliffe; he had not it in him.

What is this newspaper magnate like to look at? He is a heavy-shouldered man with a big, broad forehead, a massive jowl, and an aquiline nose. His wide mouth droops at the corners. In repose there is something of a scowl on his face, which is intensified in displeasure as his head shoots forward aggressively and almost wolfishly. And yet, on the other hand, in his pleasanter moments he has a boyishness and vivacity which are attractive. Nearly all who have been in his office, whether they are at present in his employ or not, will tell you he is a delightful man to work with. He will come into the reporters' room of the _Daily Mail_, sit on the edge of the table, smoke a cigarette, and talk to the men as if he were one of themselves. He likes them. They like him. Stories cluster round him. A young writer went out to investigate a series of happenings in a Midland town, was rather badly hoaxed, and was responsible for a good deal of ridicule directly against the paper. This is a deadly sin for a newspaper man, and the chiefs of the office were naturally severe about the matter. The writer in question, feeling that his career on the paper was over, went out of the office to lunch and, as bad luck would have it, encountered Northcliffe's automobile drawing up at the entrance. He knew "Alfred," as the proprietor is called, would be fuming, and was the last man on earth whom it was desirable to meet in such a mood. The young fellow braced himself for the attack as Northcliffe beckoned him forward. "What is this I hear? You have had your leg pulled, have you? Don't take it too much to heart. We all get deceived sometimes. I have had my leg pulled often before now. It's annoying, but don't worry about it."

He was frequently through the departments, making the acquaintance of new men, and exchanging a few sentences of conversation with the established members of the staff. Once he stopped at the desk of a junior sub-editor, whom he had not seen before, and said, "How long have you been with me?"

"About three months," was the reply.

"How are you getting on? Do you like the work? Do you find it easy to get into our ways?"

"I like it very much!"

"How much money are you getting?"

"Five pounds a week."

"Are you quite satisfied?"

"Perfectly satisfied, thank you."

"Well, you must remember this, that I want no one on my staff who is a perfectly satisfied man with a salary of five pounds a week."

A subordinate who had been a couple of years on the staff died as a result of an operation for appendicitis. He had a wife and one little child who were not very well provided for. On the day after the funeral, Northcliffe sent down and told her he had invested 1,000 pounds for her. Members of his staff who break down in health are sent for a prolonged rest on full salary, and, when necessary, are despatched abroad to recuperative climates with all their expenses paid. He is not, however, a man who suffers fools gladly, and those who come to him expecting, not only big salaries, but soft jobs, are quickly swept out in a cascade of hard words. He has a sense of humor. Once he turned the paper on to a search for an automobile which had run over a village child and then disappeared. He found it after a time, and it proved to be the car of his brother, Hildebrand, which, unknown to the owner, had been taken out for a joy ride by the chauffeur. There was something more than a chuckle among the other newspapers because Northcliffe in his enthusiasm had publicly offered 100 pounds reward for the discovery of the automobile and its owner. A few weeks later Fleet Street was busy trying to disentangle the mystery of the death of a young girl who had fallen from a railway carriage in a tunnel on the Brighton line. Various plans for the elucidation of the mystery were discussed between Northcliffe and the staff. In the course of the discussion some one made the suggestion:

"Why not offer a reward of 100 pounds for the discovery of evidence on the matter?"

"Yes," said Northcliffe, thoughtfully, "but where was my brother Hildebrand on that night?"

Deliberately placing behind him his previous attacks on Lloyd George, attacks personal and political, Northcliffe came out in strong support of the Minister of Munitions and plainly stated that it was only by revolutionizing the whole conduct of the war that victory could be assured within a reasonable time. There probably was no consultation between the two men. The support thus given to the Welshman was, in my opinion, perfectly genuine, and probably history will say it was a right and excellent course, though it involved stinging comment on Lloyd George's Cabinet associates, especially on Mr. Asquith and Lord Kitchener.

While this newspaper campaign was in progress Lloyd George set to work on his new effort, and that effort was the conversion of manufacturing Britain into a network of arsenals for the making of deadly implements of war. Again he made his special endeavor to appear as if they were the pivot of future victory. Forgotten for the time was finance. "Silver bullets" were no longer mentioned. "Shells, shells, shells!" was the cry of Lloyd George now, and the country echoed it. Enthusiastically he proceeded with his new task, and within a few days he had sketched a general scheme of operations, and within a few weeks the scheme was beginning to bear fruit. The difficulties were heavy, but he had this great advantage, that the country was prepared to do anything and to make any sacrifice which would lead toward victory. The established armament firms and the Government works had the task of providing shells and guns, and Lloyd George saw at a glance that this arrangement was tragically insufficient. To alter it he had to do many things. He had to secure the co-operation of manufacturers, especially the engineering firms who had been engaged in the ordinary occupations of peace time. He had to train new workmen, he had to enlist women, he had to persuade the trade-unions to remove their restrictions, he had to prevent the sale of alcohol in munition districts, he had to tell the capitalistic makers of munitions all over the country that they were only going to be left a percentage of their profits, and that the rest was going to be taken by the Government. This was part of his task. Many other things had to be attended to. There was, for instance, the matter of supply of steel from the foundries, and then, equally important, the question of transport by the railways. It would require a full book to tell of all the directions in which Lloyd George's efforts were expended in the ensuing weeks.

He went around the various big centers in the country and called together meetings of the prominent business men, particularly manufacturers, and suggested to them that they should form local committees which would schedule the locality for facilities in engineering work, and then outlined several ways in which they might act. They might first organize all the factories engaged in ordinary engineering work which could produce shells, or parts of shells, they might develop a big central factory in the district where central work could be done, and where finishing operations on partly made shells might be carried out. Everywhere he met cordial co-operation. Within a few weeks workshops previously used for making tramway metals, cranes, refrigerating apparatus, automobiles, overhead wires, agricultural implements, and many other kinds of material, were beginning to turn themselves into shell-factories under the direction of the local committees. Even watchmakers' shops were brought into use for some sections of work.

Meanwhile, Lloyd George initiated in every town and village of the country a census of metal-working lathes, so that no tool of this kind should be employed on needless work. Coincident with these operations, huge national shell-factories were planned for erection in various parts of the country. To co-operate the work of the local committees with headquarters in London a department of the Ministry of Munitions was set up in each big manufacturing center, and through this department Lloyd George kept in touch with all local operations.