LORD INVERFORTH
_"Gratitude is a fruit of great cultivation; you do not find it
among gross people."_--DR. JOHNSON.
We are keeping up Voltaire's idea of our English character. Instead of
only admirals, however, we are now hanging all sorts and descriptions of
our public servants, but whether to encourage the others or to pay off a
grudge, who shall determine?
Lord Inverforth takes his hanging very well. One might go so far as to
say that he is not merely unaware of the noose round his neck but so
perverse as to think he is still alive. His sense of humour is as good
to him as a philosophic temperament.
I like his sense of humour. It manifests itself very quietly and with a
flash of unexpectedness. One day at luncheon he was speaking of Lord
Leverhulme, whose acquaintance he had made only a week or two before.
Someone at the table said, "What I like about Leverhulme is his
simplicity. In spite of all his tremendous undertakings he preserves the
heart of a boy." With a twinkle in his eyes, and in a soft inquiring
voice, "Have you ever tried to buy glycerine from him?" asked Lord
Inverforth.
This story has a sequel. I mentioned it to Lord Leverhulme. "One day
two Englishmen," he replied at once, "were passing the Ministry of
Munitions. They saw Lord Inverforth going in. One who did not recognize
him said, 'Anyone can tell that man; he's a Scotsman.' To which the
other, who did recognize him, replied, 'Yes, but you couldn't tell
_that_ Scotsman anything else.' You might repeat that story to Lord
Inverforth the next time you meet him."
I did, and the Minister of Munitions accepted the compliment with a good
grace.
It is a fortunate thing for this country that a man of so remarkable a
genius for organization as Lord Inverforth should be found willing to
serve the national interests in spite of an almost daily campaign of
abuse directed against his administration. I sometimes wish he would
bring an action for libel against one of these critics. It would be an
amusing case. He might claim damages of, let us say, £7,000,000 or even
£10,000,000, for he is a man of gigantic interests, claiming these
damages on the score that his alleged libellers have injured his
reputation as a man of business in all quarters of the world. They would
have him the craziest muddler and the most easily swindled imbecile
outside Fleet Street--where alone wisdom is to be found. How one would
enjoy a verbatim report of the cross-examination of these critics _in
their own newspapers_.
I will endeavour to show that Lord Inverforth is not quite so consummate
an ass as his critics would have the public to believe, but rather one
of the very greatest men, in his own particular line, who ever came to
the rescue of a chaotic Government.
Let me not be supposed to insist that a great man of business is a great
man. I regard Lord Inverforth as an exceedingly great man of business,
one of the very greatest in the world, and this fact I hope to make
clear in a few lines, but I do not regard him as a national hero in the
wider sense of that term. He has too many lacks for that, and some of
them essential to true and catholic greatness.
He could never fire the imagination of a people, nor does he convey a
warm and generous feeling to the heart. His enthusiasms are all of a
subdued nature. The driving force in his character which has made him so
powerful a man of business, owes little to the higher virtues. He has
found the plain of life too full of absorbing interest and too crowded
with abounding opportunities for getting on to raise his eyes to the
mountains. This is not to say that he is a man of no ideals, but to say
that his ideals are of too practical and prosaic a kind ever to stir the
pulses with excitement.
Nevertheless I regard him as a born statesman, and could wish that the
conditions of political life made it more easy for a man of his gifts to
serve the country than men with the gifts of, let us say, Dr. Macnamara
or Sir Hamar Greenwood.
The world knows so little of him that perhaps I may begin my political
reflections in this case with a brief summary of his career, such
details of a business man's biography as may contribute to an
understanding of his character.
Andrew Weir, as he was in those days, went to school at Kirkcaldy, where
he was chiefly notable for seeking information on more subjects than
came under the jurisdiction of his pedagogue's ferule. A benign Rosa
Dartle might have been his godmother. He was for ever consulting
encyclopædias and books of reference. However badly he knew his Greek
verbs or his Latin syntax he had a very shrewd and curious knowledge of
the world when he left school at fifteen to enter the local branch of
the Commercial Bank of Scotland.
At school he had wanted to own ships. This ambition still lodged in his
brain. His thoughts were all at sea. There was no romance in the world
so pleasing to his soul as the romance of the merchant marine. He had a
real passion for harbours. He loved the idea of far voyages. The smells
of cargoes and warehouses composed a sea-bouquet for him which he
esteemed sweeter than all the scents of hedges and wood. If there was a
big man for him in the world it was the sailor.
I don't think he had so profound a feeling for bankers. Not quite so
downright as Lord Leverhulme in stating his opinion of bankers, Lord
Inverforth nevertheless regards them on the whole as lacking in courage
and imagination. He said to himself on his banker's stool, "I will learn
all I can, but I won't stay here; I'll be a shipowner."
In his twentieth year he bought a sailing ship. This was at Glasgow in
the year 1885. He called himself Andrew Weir and Co. He had the feeling
that sailing ships, engaged in coastwise trade, might be bigger. He
announced his intention of building a large coasting ship. People
informed him, with an almost evangelical anxiety as to his commercial
salvation, that he was a lunatic. But the big ship was a success. He
built more and bigger. Then, in 1896 he said to himself, "Why shouldn't
steam be used in the coasting trade?" and he went into steam. Again
there were inquiries after his mental health, but the steamer flourished
like the big sailing ship. At the beginning of what the curate called
"this so-called twentieth century" the firm of Andrew Weir and Co. flew
its flag in all the ports under heaven, and controlled the largest fleet
of sailing ships in the world.
There is this fact to be noticed in particular. Mr. Andrew Weir's
inquisitive mind had not merely mastered the grammar of shipowning but
had crammed the cells of his brain with the whole encyclopædia of
commercial geography. He knew each season what the least of the islands
of the world was producing, and the crops, manufactures, and financial
condition of every country across the sea. He knew, also, the way in
which the various nations conducted the business of transport. From his
office in Glasgow he could see the whole vast labours of industrious and
mercantile man, that Brobdingnagian ant of this revolving globe, merely
by closing his eyes. The map of the world's commerce was cinematographed
upon his brain.
One thing more remains to be said. Mr. Andrew Weir inherited the moral
traditions of Scotch industry. He grew rich, but not ostentatious. His
increasing fortune went back and back into trade. He never dreamed
either of cutting a figure in plutocratic society or making himself a
public character. A quiet, rather shy, and not often articulate person,
he lived a frugal life, loving his business because it occupied all his
time and satisfied nearly every curiosity of his inquiring mind.
War came, and Mr. Weir was busier than ever with his ships. Not until
1917 did it occur to the Government that the work of buying supplies for
its gigantic armies was something only to be mastered by a man of
business. The nation may be grateful to Mr. Lloyd George for having
discovered in Glasgow perhaps the one man in the British Isles who knew
everything there was to know about commercial geography.
Mr. Andrew Weir entered the War Office in March, 1917, as Surveyor
General of Supply. The position was not merely difficult in its nature,
but difficult in its circumstances. Soldiers are jealous animals, and
not easily does the War Office take to the black-coated man of business.
Mr. Weir was tact itself. For some weeks the soldiers were hardly aware
of his presence, then they learned that the quiet Scotsman in the black
coat was saying the most laudatory things about their organization;
then they found themselves marvellously improving this organization
merely by acting on the most modestly given suggestions from the smooth
civilian; and finally the very greatest of them discovered that somehow
or another Supply had now got a wonderful "move on," and that among
other things this wonderful "move on" had brought the civilian on top of
them--still smooth and modest, still in the background, but absolute
master of the whole machinery.
Lord Inverforth's work soon involved not merely the care of the British
Armies but the care of the Allied nations. What did he do? Besieged by
the unconscionable rascals of the world, fawning or blustering to get
contracts at extraordinary prices, Lord Inverforth struck a master blow
at this international cupidity by obtaining control of the principal raw
materials and instituting the system of costing. Manufacturers got their
contracts on a fixed basis of profits. Lord Inverforth knew the exact
cost of every stage in the manufacture of each article he bought, and he
saw that the manufacturer received from the taxpayer only a small
percentage of profit on that cost.
The greatest thing he did at that time, and the bravest, for he did it
without authorization and at a cost of £250,000,000, was to buy up the
Australasian wool-clip from 1917 to 1920. In this way Germany was doomed
to defeat. England, so to speak, had the clothing of humanity in her
right hand.
But Lord Inverforth also controlled flax, hemp, leather, and jute, so
that the enemy's case was as hopeless as our own was secure.
These gigantic operations involved an expenditure of over £500,000,000.
They brought an actual profit to the British Government of over
£20,000,000, saved the taxpayer Heaven only knows how many millions, and
were conducted at an administrative cost of three shillings for every
£100.
Nothing like it had ever been done before in the world.
Early in 1919 Lord Inverforth was asked to clear up war's rubbish-heap.
He became Minister of Munitions. Within twenty-four hours his body of
expert buyers had become the Disposal Board--a body of expert sellers.
The property of the British taxpayer was scattered over four continents,
and in all manner of places in those four continents. It was composed of
350,000 different kinds of things.
At once Lord Inverforth was again besieged by the rascals. There was an
army of them, composed of many "rings," seeking to buy up these "waste
products of war" at a knock-down price. At the same time came the
blustering contractor, cheated by peace of his contract, with a claim
for millions on one ground or another.
Lord Inverforth made it clear, first, that the stores were to be sold at
a commercial value, and, second, that he would protect the taxpayer
against extortionate claims on the part of contractors. As regards this
second difficulty, pressure was brought against him from the very
highest political quarters to admit certain claims and to avoid legal
action. His reply was, "I will resign before I initial those claims."
He fought them all, and he beat them all. He saved the taxpayer millions
of pounds.
As for the disposal of stores, he has already brought to the Exchequer
over £500,000,000, and before these pages are printed that sum may be
increased to something like £800,000,000.
The least imaginative reader will perceive from this brief statement
that a veritable Napoleon of Commerce has presided over the business
side of the war. Where there was every opportunity for colossal waste,
there has been the most scientific economy; where there was every
likelihood of wholesale corruption, there has been an unsleeping
vigilance of honesty; and where, at the end, there might have been a
tired carelessness resulting in ruinous loss, there has been up to the
very last moment an unremitting enthusiasm for the taxpayers' interest
which has resulted in a credit contribution to the national balance
sheet of £800,000,000.
I have left to the last this not unworthy feature of Lord Inverforth's
labours. Those labours have been given to the nation. He, at the head of
things, and the chiefs of the Disposal Board under him, have refused to
accept any financial reward. One and all they deserted their businesses
and slaved from morning to night in the national interests, and one and
all they gave their services to the State.
What has been Lord Inverforth's reward from the public? From first to
last he has been attacked by a considerable section of the Press, and
has been accused in Parliament of incredible waste and incorrigible
stupidity. Let it be supposed (I do not grant it for a moment) that he
made mistakes, even very great mistakes, still, on the total result of
his gigantic labours, does not the public owe him a debt of gratitude?
Has he not been an honest man at the head of a department where
dishonesty had its chief opportunity? Did he not strike a death blow at
Germany when he secured, with a suddenness which ruined his rivals in
the field, the wool-clip of the world? Is there one man in these islands
who thought for a moment that the overplus of stores would fetch a sum
of £800,000,000?
I will say a word about Slough, which is still the favourite cry of Lord
Inverforth's critics, who have held their peace about the "dumps" since
the publication of the White Paper describing the sale of stores.
Slough was the work of the War Office. It was begun badly. Mistakes of a
serious kind were made. It might have been a financial disaster. But
Lord Inverforth is a chivalrous man. He has never disclosed the fact
that he inherited Slough. In the face of violent criticism he has
maintained a dignified silence, letting the world think that he was the
parent of the idea, and bending all his energies to make it a success.
He has had his reward. Slough has been sold and the transaction shows a
profit for the taxpayer.
During the last years of his administration I saw a good deal of Lord
Inverforth. He was anxious to get back to his own work. He asked again
and again to be relieved of his duties--the machinery he had set up
being in excellent running order. But the Prime Minister begged him to
stay, and he has stayed, against his will and against his own interests,
and all the time he has been subjected to a stream of malignant
criticism.
Let the reader ask himself whether the case of Lord Inverforth is likely
to encourage the best brains in the country to come to the political
service of the nation. Is there not a danger that we may fall into the
American position, and have our great men in commerce and our
second-rate men in politics?
I regard Lord Inverforth as one of the few very great men in commerce
who have the qualities of genuine statesmanship. I am not at liberty to
give my chief grounds for this belief, but before long the world may
know from Lord Inverforth's commercial activities on the Continent that
more than any other man in these islands he has seen the way and taken
the step to reconstruct the shattered civilization of Europe.
On many occasions I have discussed with him the future of mankind. I
have found him the least anxious and always the most self-possessed
observer of events. Quiet, patient, practical, and imaginative, inspired
too by humane motives, he cherishes the unshakable faith that Great
Britain is destined to lead civilization into the future as far as human
eye can see. He places his faith in British character. Rivalry on the
part of powerful nations, even when it is directed against our key
industries, does not disturb him in the least. While others are crying,
"How shall we save ourselves?" he is pushing the fortunes of the British
race in every quarter of the world. And where British trade goes, on the
whole there goes too the highest civilizing power in the world--British
character. It is significant of his faith that he has ever worked to get
the British mercantile marine manned by men of the British race, and to
this end has led the way in improving the conditions of the British
seaman's life.
"All the fallacies and wild theories of revolutionary minds," he once
said to me, "break ultimately on the rock of industrial fact. The more
freely nations trade together the more clearly will it be seen that
humanity must work out its salvation within the limits of economic law.
And the way to a smooth working out of that salvation is by recognizing
the claims of the moral law. We are men before we are merchants. There
is no reason why mistrust should exist between management and labour.
The economic law by no means excludes, but rather demands, humaneness. I
believe that a system of profit sharing can be devised which will bring
management and labour into a sensible partnership. Selfishness on the
part of capital is as bad as selfishness on the part of labour. Both
must be unselfish, both must think of the general community, and both
must work hard. The two chief enemies of mankind are moral slackness and
physical slackness."
There is no man living who would make a better Chancellor of the
Exchequer than this merchant prince who, however, has had enough of
politics and is going back very gladly to his desk in the City. He is
not in the least soured by the public ingratitude, and rightly judges it
to be rather the voice of unscrupulous and stunt-seeking journalism than
the considered judgment of the nation. But he has a very poor opinion of
the way in which the Government of the country conducts its business.
LORD LEVERHULME
LORD LEVERHULME, 1ST BARON (WILLIAM HESKETH LEVER)
Born 1851, Lancashire. Educ.: Bolton Church Institute; Chairman of
Lever Bros., Port Sunlight; High Sheriff, Lancaster, 1917.
[Illustration: LORD LEVERHULME]