THE TRAGI-COMEDY OF LIBERAL REUNION

Car toutes nos misères véritables sont intérieures et causées par nousmêmes. Nous croyons faussement qu'elles viennent du dehors, mais nous les formons au dedans de nous de notre propre substance.—ANATOLE FRANCE: Le Mannequin D'Osier.

It is extraordinarily like one of those homely sets of lancers familiar to the youthful memory of most members of large families. The dancers bow and set to partners; the piano strikes up; the dance should begin. But it does not. A dispute suddenly arises among the dancers themselves as to the precise figure to be danced, or the pianist mistakes and plays the wrong one, or there is a difference of opinion between dancers and pianist. From one cause or another there is clamour and confusion, not to be stilled without argument and explanation, and much pushing and thrusting of dissentient or merely bewildered dancers. Some sort of order is at last re-established. The dancers bow and set to partners, the music strikes up, the dance begins. Perhaps; but perhaps not.

It is not at all unlike, on the other hand, those early cinematograph films in which spots and holes and wrinkles appeared unaccountably in the hero's immaculate top-hat; in which flashes quite unconnected with her flashing smiles irradiated every now and again the charming features of the heroine; and in which the whole paramount drama was liable suddenly to disappear in a blurred mist, merging into absolute darkness, from the puzzled gaze of the attentive spectator.

For the purposes of this history, the story begins with Mr. Lloyd George's speech at Edinburgh on March 3. There had been to-ings and fro-ings of considerable importance at Westminster long before this, but the Edinburgh speech referred the issue to Liberalism in the country. If the Independents had foreseen this sudden move on the part of Mr. Lloyd George they were not prepared to counter it effectively. In all these early stages they were tactically out-manoeuvred. Mr. Asquith, on March 8, made a cool and cautious reply, which amounted to a refusal of Mr. Lloyd George's offer.

Popular opinion at this time was definitely on the side of

the National' Liberals. When Mrs. Smith acknowledges with a curt nod only the timid overtures of erring Mrs. Brown, it is with Mrs. Brown, whatever the rights of the case, that the neighbours tend to sympathise. She may be erring, but at least she is not proud.

A

Mr. Lloyd George saw his advantage and proceeded impetuously to make the most of it. As he has often done before, he made too much of it. The two chief difficulties in his path were the anti-Labour campaign, which was the main, and indeed almost the only, plank in the 'National' Liberal programme, but which was quite definitely rejected by the Independents and extremely repugnant to their left wing; and the fear and dislike entertained by all Independent Liberals of the Centre Party idea, the recrudescence in a perhaps slightly changed form of the deceased Coalition. This the Independent Liberals, in common with the great majority of their countrymen, positively hated; and for this Mr. Lloyd George was suspected, very naturally and on very sufficient ground, to stand.

The famous letter which he wrote to Major Entwistle on March 9 was presumably designed to allay anxiety on this head. Now it would have been perfectly easy for Mr. Lloyd George to achieve this. All he had to do was to say definitely that he had abandoned the Centre Party idea and returned finally to the orthodox theory of Liberalism as the party of the Left. But he said no such thing. What he actually said was that 'the idea' (of a Centre Party) ' was rejected at a meeting of Liberal Ministers in the Coalition Government held in March 1920.' The inevitable result of this strangely equivocal reply was to raise controversy, not to still it. As a matter of fact, it was a lawyer's quibble. The Centre Party to which Mr. Lloyd George was referring was an abortive scheme fathered by Lord Birkenhead and Mr. Churchill, which died at its birth, and to which it is quite possible, as Sir Alfred Mond afterwards asserted, that Mr. Lloyd George himself was opposed. But the Centre Party of which his Independent critics were thinking-and he must very well have known it-was not this wretched stillborn infant at all; but any party, whatever it chose to call itself, which rested its policy and its hopes on an amalgamation of the older parties and their policies. The reason of the equivocation was probably that Mr. Lloyd George, at the very time that he was making these fervent appeals to Liberals to unite, was still maintaining intimate relations with some of his old Conservative allies (notably Lord Birkenhead and Sir Robert Horne) and was very reluctant to break with them. He could not safely in these circumstances say more. But he had much better in these circumstances have said nothing.

Yet poor as the sample was, the seed was sown on good ground. VOL. XCIV-No. 557

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There was a great body of Liberal opinion in the country anxious and eager for reunion. Their views were not unrepresented at Westminster. On March 25 Mr. Lloyd George made his plausible plea for consultation' between the two Parliamentary parties with a view to joint action. On March 21 the seventy Liberal members who had for some time past been actively working for reunion met and proposed a Joint Committee, to consist of Mr. Asquith, Mr. Lloyd George, Sir John Simon and Sir Alfred Mond, and to arrange how the two parties should in future work together at Westminster. The effect of this pious aspiration was weakened by the fact that within an hour or two of its passing practically the whole of the National' Liberals were found voting for the Government and against the party with whom they were continually expressing their anxiety to unite. This is one of the places in which the film flickers unusually badly. It was certainly a strong point in the Independents' case that examination of the division lists showed the National' Liberal vote to be cast generally in favour of the Conservative Government. At the same time there appeared a hole-not a large one, but still a hole-in the otherwise very correct top-hat of the Independents. Influenced probably by the known feeling in the country, they took to adding to their speeches a fervent prayer for unity and a confident prediction that it was coming soon. What they meant was that the 'National' organisation was crumbling-there was some evidence of this and that soon only the original Richmond would be left in the field. What the wayfaring Liberal in the provinces took them to mean-and they knew it was that conciliation was only delayed. In fact it had not really begun, and the majority of Independents who prayed publicly for its consummation had not the slightest intention of allowing Mr. Lloyd George to share in it when it was consummated. This became quite evident when the proposal for a Joint Committee was discussed on March 23 by the Independents at Westminster. It was summarily rejected, and Mr. Asquith intimated after its rejection that had it been accepted he would himself have retired. The dance came to an abrupt end once more; the film went out in darkness.

At Westminster, but not in the country. There it was only beginning. The Leeds Liberal Association suddenly sent an elaborate invitation to both leaders to meet at lunch under its auspices. Mr. Lloyd George accepted at once; Mr. Asquith returned a courteous but firm refusal. The lunch was indefinitely postponed, but the example was contagious. Other associations followed suit; exasperated Abingdon Street found itself threatened with a flood of these documents; invitations which Mr. Lloyd George would always accept and which Mr. Asquith would have continually to refuse. Mrs. Smith seemed to be condemned to

meet erring Mrs. Brown at every corner; she could never get away from the woman; and in the meanwhile the Manchester Liberal Association had passed a formal and strongly worded resolution in favour of reunion.

Before examining this important decision and its consequences, which are the critical point in the whole controversy, it is worth turning aside for a moment to an interlude not without relevance, which is one of the most obscure and dramatic incidents in recent politics. The ghost of the Centre Party, right in the middle of the reunion discussions, appeared suddenly at Westminster. 'The sheeted dead did gibe and gibber in the London streets.'

It is improbable, in view of the interest which all the principals have in concealing them, that the real facts about the celebrated Budget plot will ever be known. It is barely possible, of course, that the whole thing was simply a curious series of coincidences, and that there was no real plot and no real ghost at all. From the point of view of the reunion discussions it makes no difference. The psychological effect on a man who thinks he sees a ghost is the same whether the ghost be real or no. It is not doubtful that in the proceedings at Westminster during the Budget debate many Liberals thought they saw the ghost of the Centre Party. And such an apparition, real or apparent, could not be without effect at a moment when so many Liberals were hesitating whether to believe Mr. Lloyd George and his friends sincere in their anxiety to return to the Liberal fold, or merely adroit speculators seeking to convert Liberalism by a trick into a Centre Party whose main object would be to check the march of Labour and make the world safe for plutocracy.

The certain facts are easily told, and fall into two groups. On or about April 12 Lord Birkenhead held a private meeting, said to have been attended by three Conservative and one Liberal Coalitionist ex-Minister. When the Budget was introduced, Sir Alfred Mond, to everybody's astonishment, attacked it tooth and nail; and he was supported in this frontal attack, rather hesitatingly, by Sir Robert Horne. The next day, almost alone in the Press, the Daily Chronicle, notoriously of course Mr. Lloyd George's organ, came out with an uncompromising denunciation of the Budget. It was a mean Budget'; and every experienced journalist recognised in the form of the attack the first blast of the trumpet in a great campaign. The National' Liberal organisers had quite evidently made up their minds to fight the Government on the Budget. This is the first group of facts.

The second is as follows. The Government stock, which had been very low, began to rise. Opinion hitherto adverse swung rather suddenly over to the Government side. At the same time, Mr. Bonar Law, who, for reasons since sadly evident, had

for some time been a very rare figure in the House, suddenly became conspicuously vigilant in his attendance. Finally, a few days after the Budget had been introduced, Mr. Baldwin, who had made a sound but rather pedestrian Budget speech, arose; and, in a speech of such sparkling brilliance and good humour that it won the applause even of his opponents, smote his critics hip and thigh. The Parliamentary opposition collapsed, instantly and entirely; what was more singular, the newspaper campaign collapsed equally instantly and equally completely. The Budget, 'mean' or otherwise, ceased suddenly to have any but the most subsidiary importance for the Daily Chronicle and the oracle which inspires it.

So much is certain. What is, of course, much less certain, and indeed purely speculative, is the true explanation of these facts. The explanation believed by many practical and wellinformed observers, not romantically inclined, is important now only as illustrating and explaining the Independent Liberal fear of a Centre Party revival. It was believed that the attack on the Budget had been concerted at Lord Birkenhead's meeting with the object of overthrowing the Government, then in very low repute after its defeat in the House, and replacing it by a Government which would have been more or less the old Coalition in a revised form. The attack was believed to be directed especially against Mr. Baldwin, whose rapid rise was exciting the angry suspicion of the Coalition Conservatives. Then, at the critical moment, the conspirators became suddenly aware that the intended murder was out. Upon Mr. Baldwin's attack, the corpse of the Centre Party, after two or three days of mechanical life, fell down dead again, and Mr. Baldwin's young men arose, wound it up, and carried it out.

In the meanwhile, the reunion struggle had been transferred to Manchester. In order to understand its course there it is necessary to realise the true position of Manchester Liberals. Their conduct was not at all determined by any undue reverence for Mr. Lloyd George or, for that matter, for Mr. Asquith either. It was guided, as is usual in Manchester politics, predominantly by local considerations. They were earnest for reunion, partly for strategical and partly for tactical reasons. Easily first among the former was the question of Free Trade. Free Trade in Manchester is not an academic question; it is a question of bread and butter. There is no one that matters in the Manchester industry, either among masters or men, who is not convinced that Free Trade is necessary, not to the prosperity merely, but to the existence of the Lancashire industry. Consequently, any attack whatever upon Free Trade inevitably produces the most violent reactions in Manchester Liberalism, which has won all its great