PREMIERSHIP
“Not once or twice in our rough island-story,
The path of duty was the way to glory.”
TENNYSON.
THIS great revival in the supply of munitions to Great Britain and her
Allies began, early in 1916, to show its effects on the fortunes of the
war.
There were some things that could not be retrieved—Serbia, Bulgaria,
Kut. On the Western fields of war there was a steady stiffening, and the
1915 peril of collapse gradually passed away. During the spring of 1916
guns and shells were accumulated in great masses for a summer attack.
The new Military Service Act, too, now began to come into action; a
steady supply of young men began to fill up the gaps in the armies at
the front.
What could be done by men and munitions was being done; and at any rate
it was no longer possible for the commanders and men to feel that they
were not being properly supported by the civilians at home.
It was not only in regard to the British armies that this great uplift
of power took place. The Russians, too, now found themselves being
supplied with streams of guns and shells from Great Britain; and
Brusiloff began to prepare for his great thrust forward.
Thus events moved forward to those great battles of July and August,
1916, when, by sheer force of gun-power, we captured positions thought
to be impregnable, and brought about the dramatic withdrawal of the
German armies towards the French frontiers in the spring of 1917.
But, in the meantime, Mr. Lloyd George himself had been called away to
other and higher tasks. He is one of those men whom Nature seems to have
marked out as pioneers; and there seems to be almost a law by which,
when such men have accomplished one great task, another sphere calls for
them. At the Ministry of Munitions he had now done his work—that work
of starting, inspiring, and organising which is peculiarly his. Other
men could now take up the task and keep it going; they could run the
engine once it was devised and set running; happily, there are many such
men in the world.
It was fated that a tragic event should make it necessary that Mr. Lloyd
George should now himself move forward.
On June 5th, 1916, Lord Kitchener, always the head and forefront of
England’s military effort, the great Captain of those legions to whom he
gave his own name, met an untimely end in H.M.S. _Hampshire_, off the
western coast of Scotland. The splendid cruiser which carried his
fortunes was met by a fierce gale; but his mission to Russia was urgent,
and he was not the man to delay. The ship altered its course to the lee
side of the Shetland Islands, and there it met with a mine cast adrift
by the storm, and quickly foundered. Lord Kitchener was last seen on the
quarter-deck meeting death as calmly as he had faced life.
Mr. Lloyd George was called to take Lord Kitchener’s place, and passed
in June, 1916, from the Ministry of Munitions to the War Office. The
effect of this change was to increase his power of control over the war,
and at the same time to deepen his responsibility.
He did not stay long enough in the War Office to obtain complete grip of
the administrative machine, or to introduce the reforms which were so
desirable in that office. But this period of power was marked by some of
those bold and sweeping strokes which are so characteristic. In the
autumn of 1916, on one of his periodical visits to the Western Front, he
realised that the Army was on the eve of a tragical breakdown of
communications. The French roads were becoming worn out with the strain
of the heavy transport traffic. We had not enjoyed that immense relief
from the structure of small railways which was common to our Allies and
our enemies. He also grasped the fact that the fortunes of all future
“offensives” were going to depend on swift and decisive concentrations
of guns, shells, and men, only possible by means of railways. The
railways then at our disposal in France were quite insufficient to carry
the burden of vast armies as well as the local life of the countryside.
He insisted, against great opposition, both from officials and Press, on
placing the railways under the control of railway men. He persuaded Sir
Douglas Haig to make Sir Eric Geddes a General at Headquarters in charge
of transportation. Later on, Sir Eric Geddes was given charge of all
transportations in the United Kingdom, as well as in the British zone in
France; and he imposed on the British civilian population those
restrictions of traffic which have been so cheerfully borne. All this
made a huge difference, both in the smooth working of the army machine
in France, and in the organisation of those swift, sudden springs
forward which played so great a part in the final victory.
But greater events were soon to claim his attention.
He had not yet obtained full grip of the machinery at the War Office
when there loomed up in the East another of those great tragedies of the
little nations, which, like Stations of the Cross, marked the stages of
this world-agony.
Rumania had always felt strong sympathy with the cause of the Entente
Allies. In spite of various cross-currents, the tide of her feelings had
set very steadily towards the cause of the Western democracies. But she
had hitherto been restrained by a very wise prudence from rushing into a
struggle with powerful Empires close at hand.
But now fortune seemed to be swinging over to the democracies. The Somme
and Verdun seemed to be the obverse and the reverse sides of the same
victorious shield. The Italians were moving forward. The Russians were
sanguine, and pressed Rumania for her assistance.
So the Rumanian Government, on August 27th, took the great decision and
declared war on Austria.
All the world knows the episodes in that tragic story—the premature
Rumanian advance into Transylvania, the sudden, treacherous attack in
the rear from Bulgaria—the quick, smashing blows of the gathered German
armies—the passing of that fearful harrow of war over that beautiful,
romantic land.
No one saw this coming cloud more rapidly than Mr. Lloyd George. Early
in September he read through the designs of the German commanders. With
his uncanny eye for a military situation, he seemed to know what
Hindenburg was going to do before he did it. He noticed a weakening in
the attack on Verdun. He realised in a moment that Bulgaria would not be
moving if she were not sure of German help. He saw straight into the
heart of the German eastern ambitions, and he realised that here they
had an opportunity which on no account would they pass by.
He was full of a feverish desire to avert the blow, even at the eleventh
hour. Could not anything still be done? There was Italy—she was at the
doors of the East—there was Russia. Was it nothing to them who passed
by—this crucifixion of a little nation? There was always something
especially poignant in his emotions over these tragedies. He was not a
man suited to the part of sitting by and doing nothing.
But Rumania was already beyond the reach of our help. When Serbia was
lost, Rumania was cut off also from British aid. The British Fleet, as
Lord Salisbury once shrewdly remarked, cannot operate in the Balkans.
Russia, the only possible rescuer, proved a broken reed. She was already
paralysed by the sleeping sickness of internal treachery.
So Rumania went under. But the event had a reverberating influence on
Mr. Lloyd George’s mind. It brought him to a decision which he had long
been meditating.
He could no longer go on being responsible for these repeated failures
without a supreme effort to make them cease.
He had for a long time past gravely doubted whether he would not be more
capable of helping in the conduct of the war if he left the Government.
He had often been on the verge of resigning—on munitions, on
conscription, on the Serbian failure. He had a growing conviction that
the only hope of winning the war was through the nation; and he wanted
to guide and to inform the nation. He longed to be “unmuzzled”—to speak
out what he knew, to speak for himself alone.
But it had always happened that before he took action his policy had
won; and then it became practically impossible for him to resign.
Ministers cannot resign on delay alone. Yet these constant delays were
piling up against us a constantly accumulating debt. Or, as with the
proud Roman and the ancient Sibyl, the reward was diminishing while the
price was not less.
The Rumanian disaster brought Mr. Lloyd George to the parting of the
ways. He must either reform the Government to better uses, or he must
gain his freedom—on that issue he was clear.
Reflecting deeply on the mode and method of reform, he saw but one way
out—a smaller and more efficient body, wholly devoted to the direction
of the war. That had been his view for a long time past—and every event
had confirmed it. What was wanted was unified, unsleeping control.
He decided at last to place this view definitely and decisively before
Mr. Asquith, the Prime Minister.
He did so in a long conversation on the morning of Friday, December 1st,
1916.
This was the first phase in a crisis into which Mr. Lloyd George entered
with the utmost reluctance. He was sincerely attached to Mr. Asquith. He
had that regard for him which is often based on an entire difference of
temperament. He fully recognised the greatness of those qualities which
have given Mr. Asquith so strong a hold on the esteem and affections of
his countrymen. He wished to continue the working partnership. He made
in the course of these negotiations every conceivable suggestion which
could make the changed conditions tolerable to the proper pride and
self-respect of a man who had deserved so well of the nation.
But on the fundamental necessity for a change in the organisation for
control of the war, he remained throughout as firm as adamant. There
could be no compromise on that point. There are certain questions on
which no man can compromise. One is the safety and honour of his own
country.
He regarded that as involved in his proposal to reform the machinery of
war-control.
He had come to the conclusion that a smaller and stronger authority was
absolutely necessary for the prosperous conduct of the war. He also
held, with equal strength of conviction, that no man could bear at the
same time the double burden of parliamentary leadership and of the
day-by-day task of Chairmanship of the new War Council, with its
entirely full and detailed responsibility for the conduct of the war.
Mr. Asquith was universally acknowledged as the supreme parliamentary
leader of his generation. He was a great national figure-head. It seemed
a fair and reasonable proposal that he should continue to lead the
Commons and the country, and should allow one of his colleagues to
become the Chairman of the new War Authority. Mr. Lloyd George did not
name himself as Chairman of that body. Mr. Asquith first named him. But
it soon became quite clear to both that he was the only fit and proper
man to carry out his own scheme.
Mr. Lloyd George, as we all know, laid these views in writing before the
Prime Minister, and discussed them with him very fully during the two
following days.[103] He laid them in memoranda and in conversations. As
the talk went on the new proposal varied now and again in detail, but it
remained always the same in essence. Mr. Lloyd George never disputed the
supreme control of the Prime Minister: he even agreed to the final
control of the Cabinet—for he had not yet ventured so far as to propose
a supreme War Cabinet.
It is quite clear that Mr. Lloyd George’s proposal startled and alarmed
Mr. Asquith. That great man is above all things a constitutionalist;
profoundly impassioned for the traditions of English freedom. Trained up
in parliamentary habits, it seemed abhorrent to him that any function of
supreme control in affairs should be divorced from that fount and centre
of power. It was not for his own personal position, we may be sure, that
he resisted Mr. Lloyd George’s proposals. They clashed with all that was
deepest in his nature. The heir and successor of Pym, Selden, and Pitt
could not lightly acquiesce in any derogation to the authority of
Parliament or Cabinet.
What Mr. Asquith did not see was that new needs call for new measures;
and that the needs of a war such as this, unprecedented in extent and
violence, may also necessitate remedies without precedent on the
parchments of the English statute-books.
At one stage Mr. Asquith appears to have agreed with Mr. Lloyd George,
and Mr. Lloyd George was for some time (on Saturday, December 2nd) under
the impression that the matter was settled on the general lines of his
policy. He did not fight for details. He was willing to discuss the
membership of the Committee; but he remained firm on the principle. He
had already determined to resign rather than fail to carry it out.[104]
But at that moment there seemed no necessity for such a step.
At this stage, however, there stepped into the arena those busy friends
who, since the days of Job, have never been a man’s best counsellors.
Energy breeds foes; and there were men who were inclined to ask the old
question: “Who is this man that he should rule over us?” These men held
up the arms of Mr. Asquith in his resistance to the policy laid down by
Mr. Lloyd George.
On the other side there were also friends—friends of the Press,
certainly not inspired by any amiable feelings towards Mr. Asquith. They
belonged to a section which had always stood honestly and boldly for a
more active prosecution of the war. It was certainly not the fault of
Mr. Lloyd George that this Press had espoused his cause in all his great
efforts for the nation; and it was preposterous to expect that he should
reject their help. A member of a Coalition Ministry has no right to keep
up old party prejudices in his dealings with the Press; and it has
always been the role of Mr. Lloyd George to be accessible to the Press
on both sides. It had happened, indeed, that only a few weeks before Mr.
Lloyd George had had a sharp passage of arms with Lord Northcliffe over
the question of communications on the Western Front; and certainly there
was no working alliance between them. There was nothing more than a
fortuitous temporary agreement in regard to the conduct of the war.
On Monday, December 4th, there appeared in the _Times_ an article giving
a very clear and accurate summary of the negotiations, supported by a
“leader” rejoicing over the discomfiture of Mr. Asquith.[105] It is the
inveterate habit of British statesmen to listen with sensitive ears to
the oracles from Printing House Square; and Mr. Asquith was no exception
to this rule. He treated this blow as a thunderbolt. He immediately, on
the morning of Monday, December 4th, wrote to Mr. Lloyd George plainly
intimating that if this was to be the sort of view taken of his
agreement he could not go on.
When he received this letter Mr. Lloyd George had not seen the _Times_
article. He knew nothing about it. He certainly did not inspire it. He
was as surprised as Mr. Asquith when he read it. But he has always taken
a tolerant view as to the activities of a democratic Press. He wrote
back to Mr. Asquith a friendly letter deprecating any attention to press
attacks of which he had himself had to endure so many, and strongly
urging Mr. Asquith not to play into the hands of the _Times_. He—Mr.
Lloyd George—wanted an agreement. The _Times_ did not.
But it was too late. Mr. Asquith’s friends urged him to act and not to
submit to what seemed to him a deliberate attempt to destroy his
personal prestige. So on the afternoon he resigned and ended his
Government. He acted with absolute correctness. He received authority
from the King at once to form a new Government; and he wrote at once to
Mr. Lloyd George. He could, in his view, start now afresh, unhampered by
the negotiations of Saturday and Sunday.
His first condition was that he himself, as Prime Minister, must be
Chairman of the new War Committee.
The former plan was thus now definitely rejected, and a clear challenge
was thrown down to Mr. Lloyd George—not a personal challenge, but a
challenge of principle. For Mr. Asquith sincerely and honestly held that
his was the proper way to control the conduct of the war.
It was, indeed, now for Mr. Lloyd George to decide, not whether he
should resign—for he was no longer Minister—but whether he should join
the new Ministry on these terms, which clashed absolutely with his own
plans. It was plainly impossible that he should do so.
So, still with regret but always quite decisively, on December 5th he
placed his office at the disposal of Mr. Asquith in the formation of his
new Ministry.
He parted from Mr. Asquith with every expression of personal regret, and
offered his complete support of the new Government for the prosecution
of the war.
After that events moved rapidly. On the Sunday (December 3rd) the Tory
rank and file had met and decided not to follow Mr. Lloyd George. But
Mr. Bonar Law made it clear that in that case they could not count on
his leadership. He and his friends in the old Ministry refused to join
the new Ministry. That made it impossible for Mr. Asquith to succeed.
The next step was for the King to send for Mr. Bonar Law. But the old
Liberals, the Labour Party, and the Irish Nationalists refused to serve
under his Premiership. He did not possess a parliamentary majority. It
was useless for Mr. Bonar Law to take office with a minority following
in the House of Commons.
Mr. Lloyd George, indeed, urged Mr. Bonar Law to make the attempt, and
offered to serve under him.
The King, with a splendid desire for reconciliation, called a conference
at Buckingham Palace, and tried to form a new Coalition Ministry of all
parties under Mr. Bonar Law. But the thing was impossible. Asquith and
his friends stood out; Mr. Asquith refused the Woolsack. He was
contending for what seemed to him a definite issue of parliamentary
control, and we can scarcely blame him for refusing to be spirited off
the arena of political conflict, or relegated to a gilded cage.
It only remained for the King to send for Mr. Lloyd George, for he was
now the only possible Premier. It was clearly his duty to accept the
call. It was not easy for him to form a Ministry. The rank and file of
the Tories, still shadowed by Budget memories, shrank at first from the
idea of serving under so fervent a Radical; but Mr. Bonar Law was
determined to submit all political divisions to the supreme issue of the
war; and most of the powerful men of the party followed his patriotic
lead. Many of the leading Liberal ex-Ministers plainly intimated,
through various channels, public and private, that they were anxious to
stand aside[106]; but most of the capable young men willingly came
along, recognising that at this crisis there was a greater thing
involved than personal loyalty. The Labour Party at first stood aloof.
There were long conferences at the War Office. But at last Mr. Lloyd
George won them over by large and frank concessions both in policy and
share of office.
Such is a simple narrative of the events which made Mr. Lloyd George
Premier. Of course there were mean and unworthy insinuations—of course
there were men who saw, in this great and dramatic clash of ideas,
nothing but the mean and sordid conflict of personal ambitions, or the
still more squalid combat of rival journals. There will always be men
with their eyes fixed on the ground when great signs are appearing in
the heavens.
But to those who have followed this story the event will seem to be
inevitable. At the given moment Mr. Lloyd George took the post of
leadership, but he only took that post because for at least a year he
had already been the leader. Great wars always have electric effects.
For the ruling of such thunder-storms there is required a certain
temperament of storm. The plain fact is that Mr. Lloyd George possessed
that temperament—and sooner or later he must have been called to direct
the thunderbolts.
When he really had the power to shape the machine of war after his own
ideas, Mr. Lloyd George put aside half-measures. He boldly shaped a new
instrument of Government—the War Cabinet as we afterwards knew it. That
Cabinet was a small body of experienced administrators, united by the
one tie of zeal for their country, who gave their whole energies
entirely to the conduct of the war. Except for brief holidays, they sat
daily, and sometimes twice a day. Minutes were kept of their
proceedings, although their speeches were not reported. When any
Department was concerned, the Minister affected attended himself, and
took part in the consultations. Thus the Foreign Minister was there when
there was a discussion of foreign affairs, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer on finance, and so on. The result was that the departmental
chiefs were more free for their own administrative work, and less
worried with the problems of other Departments. On the other hand, there
grew up a new Civil Service attached to the War Cabinet, and a more
active machinery for keeping the offices in touch.
It was confessedly a great experiment—but experiments are necessary for
war. It was certain that that other instrument, the old Cabinet—already
showing signs of weakness in days of peace—had broken down in war; for
every revelation, from the Dardanelles to Mesopotamia, spoke eloquently
of the failure, not so much of the men, as of that machine. It met too
rarely: its proceedings were too cumbrous; there was a lack of
concentration; there was a constant scattering and diversion of
energies.
There is no room here for vain regrets over the past. There is no space
left for old party feuds—and certainly not for personal issues. Both of
these men are great, distinguished figures, divided only by small
shadows of honest difference. Those shadows will pass; in the light of
greater events they will appear trifles; and the common need will knit
us together. The resolution for unity must prevail.
-----
[103] See the correspondence published in Appendix B.
[104] He had taken rooms at St. James’s Court.
[105] “The conversion has been swift, but Mr. Asquith has never been
slow to note political tendencies when they become inevitable.”—Leading
article, _Times_, December 4th, 1916.
[106] Mr. Herbert Samuel was offered office, and refused. Mr. Montagu
finally joined as Secretary for Ireland.