Asquith

by Roy Jenkins

  He gave effect to his decision at seven o’clock that evening. He had been Prime Minister for eight years and 241 days.

  “The Prime Minister came to see me,” the King recorded in his diary, “& placed his resignation in my hands, which I accepted with great regret. He said that he had tried to arrange matters with Lloyd George about the War Committee all day, but was unable to. All Ins colleagues both Liberal and Unionist, urged him to resign as it was the only solution to the difficulty. I fear that it will cause great panic in the City & in America & do harm to the Allies. It is a great blow to me & will I fear buck up the Germans.”n

  Back in Downing Street, Asquith dined with Crewe. The King in the meantime had asked for a constitutional memorandum, dealing with a new Prime Minister’s right to a dissolution, from Haldane, and had summoned Bonar Law. His interview with Law went as badly as it is easily possible to imagine. They argued about a dissolution, about the course of the war, about the relations between politicians and the military. Having established this happy basis of almost universal disagreement, the King performed his constitutional duty by asking Law to form a Government.

  The Unionist leader then went immediately to see Lloyd George, with whom he had conferred before his visit to the Palace. Afterwards he went to Downing Street where he called Asquith out from dinner and asked him if he would serve under him.1 Asquith demurred, and also responded discouragingly to a suggestion that they might all serve under Balfour. He did not believe that any such combinations would work, but he did not close his mind on continuing consultation.

  1 Austen Chamberlain (Down the Years, pp. 125-6) thought that the order of the visits should have been reversed, and that it was characteristic of Bonar Law who “ is an amateur and will always remain one ” not to do so. There is no evidence that such a reversal would have made any difference.

  Later that evening Bonar Law again saw Lloyd George, this time at Carson’s house. The following morning (Wednesday, December 6th) they went together to see Balfour, still in his sick-room. It was probably this occasion which prompted Lloyd George to write of Balfour: “ I confess that I underrated the passionate attachment to his country which burnt under that calm, indifferent, and apparently frigid exterior o upon which Balfour’s latest biographer has somewhat severely commented: “ By ‘passionate attachment to his country,’ Lloyd George presumably meant Balfour’s backing for him as Prime Minister . . .p But this may be a little hard. Such a firm commitment was not sought at this stage.

  A Buckingham Palace conference was to take place that afternoon. There is doubt as to where this idea originated. Beaverbrook said that it came from Henderson; Balfour said that it came from Bonar Law; Law’s biographer said that it came from Balfour; and Crewe said that it came from Montagu and Derby. Whoever sowed the seed, the conference was due to meet within a few hours. Balfour’s role was likely to be crucial. He had kept himself the most aloof from the crisis so far. The main concern of Bonar Law and Lloyd George was that he should give no support for an Asquith restoration. Law that morning, according to Montagu, “ had objected to any Conference to put Asquith back.” They went away reassured.

  Balfour saw the King for half an hour before the others came. He gave his opinion that no one man could be effectively Prime Minister, leader of the House of Commons, and chairman of the War Committee. It was arranged that he should open the discussion with a statement of this and other views. Then the other participants— Asquith, Lloyd George, Bonar Law and Henderson arrived. Beaverbrook, presumably informed by Law, wrote that Asquith’s mood differed from that of the other members of “ this grave assembly.” “His manner in fact was fairly like that of a schoolboy who has got an unexpected half-holiday. He was jocular with everybody.” q This is to some extent contradicted by Lloyd George, who subsequently wrote:

  It is now a matter of history how we expressed our readiness to serve under Mr. Balfour—all of us except Mr. Asquith, who asked indignantly, “ What is the proposal? That I who have held first place for eight years should be asked to take a secondary position.” This broke up the conferencer

  Whatever else this interchange may be, it is not a matter of history. There is no hint in the contemporary accounts of either Balfour or Stamfordham that such a conversation ever occurred; indeed it seems unlikely that the premiss of a Balfour premiership was ever before the conference. Lord Stamfordham’s memorandum describes how Asquith was urged by all the other participants to serve under Bonar Law, and then continues:

  Mr. Asquith maintained that the Prime Minister and nobody else could preside over the War Committee, otherwise decisions might be arrived at which he could not agree to, which would result in friction and delay. . . . Mr. Asquith continued by denouncing in serious terms the action of the Press. The Prime Minister’s work was sufficiently heavy and responsible without being subjected to daily vindictive, merciless attacks in the columns of the newspapers, and he urged that whatever government might come into office, measures should be taken to prevent the continuance of this Press tyranny. He had been accused of clinging to Office, but he appealed to all those present to say whether such a charge was justifiable. He could honestly say that on waking this morning he was thankful to feel he was a free man. Mr. Asquith referred in touching terms to the unquestioning confidence the King had invariably placed in him, of which he had received His Majesty’s assurance only two days ago. He deeply valued it, and only hoped that his successor might enjoy the same generous trust and support which His Majesty had graciously reposed in him.s

  This may not have been very constructive, but, except towards the newspaper proprietors, it did not sound particularly bitter. Furthermore, it is an account almost exactly borne out by Balfour. But what next? The King, after Asquith had spoken, pointed out that no decision had been reached. Balfour attempted to sum up:

  (He) said that he considered it was impossible for Mr. Asquith to form a Government after what Mr. Bonar Law had said about his party. A Government without Mr. Lloyd George was impossible. Apparently Mr. Bonar Law was ready to form a Government if Mr. Asquith would agree to accept a subordinate place, but, failing this, he would propose that Mr. Lloyd George should form an Administration.

  The result of the meeting was an agreement that Mr. Asquith should consider the proposals made to him, and let Mr. Bonar Law know as soon as possible whether he would join the Government under him. If the answer was in the negative, Mr. Bonar Law would not form a Government, but Mr. Lloyd George would endeavour to do sot

  Again Balfour’s account is in substantial agreement, although he adds the gloss that when, at one stage in his summing up he referred to his assumption that Asquith would not serve under either Law or Lloyd George, Asquith intervened to say that he had not gone quite so far as that; he must consult his friends before giving a final answer.

  The conference broke up at 4.30. Asquith returned to Downing Street and immediately began this consultation. There was a full turn up of Liberal ministers, with the exception of Lloyd George. Henderson was also present. Decisions were taken in two stages. First it was agreed (the meeting in this respect giving the impression of being a little behind events) that Asquith should make no attempt to form a Government without Lloyd George and the Unionists. Then came the question of whether he would serve in a subordinate post. Crewe, Grey, McKenna, Runciman, Buckmaster and McKinnon Wood all urged him not to. Three others (Harcourt, Samuel and Tennant) apparently indicated silent agreement with this view. Montagu and Henderson were alone in dissenting, not only from the advice tendered but also from the implied assumption that if Asquith did not serve, none of the others present would either.

  “ Mr. Asquith,” Crewe recorded, “ entirely concurred with our statements ...” He did so, the account continued, not out of “ personal dignity or amour propre.” What, then, were his reasons ? First, he could hope to exercise no real influence in the new Government. Its tone would be set by those who were most distrustful of his leadership. It was doubtful whether he
would even be a member of the War Committee. He saw no prospect of avoiding for long a head-on collision. It was better to stand out at the beginning than to go in with the expectation that he would soon have to provoke a further crisis by resignation.

  Secondly, if on the other hand he were completely to subordinate himself to the new Government his influence in Parliament and the country would quickly be eroded. This was not a selfish consideration. Politicians exist to exercise influence. Unless they believe that they can do so beneficially they have no raison d'être. Asquith thought that the erosion of his would lead to the growth of an irresponsible opposition, undermining the near unanimity of support for the war effort. This may have been something of a rationalisation of his instinctive desires, but it was a perfectly defensible attitude. While not the most encouraging offer which a Prime Minister can receive, support from outside is a time-honoured formula and one which has frequently been used with much less excuse than Asquith had on this occasion. Furthermore he interpreted it in such a way that “ support ” was not an empty word. He did not cause Lloyd George a tenth of the trouble that Lloyd George, outside, would have caused him.

  There was a third consideration, not mentioned by Crewe, in Asquith’s mind. He believed that so long as he remained in the Government the Press attacks would continue and that his supposedly malevolent influence would be blamed for every failure. This would further undermine his position both with his colleagues and with the public. It would be an extreme form of responsibility without power.

  By six o’clock Asquith had conveyed his decision, in a letter, to Bonar Law. The importance of the communication was symbolised by Lord Curzon, who had come across to 10, Downing Street to hear the news, acting as messenger boy. At seven Law went to Buckingham Palace and declined the King’s commission. At 7.30 the commission was passed on to Lloyd George. Within 24 hours he had succeeded in discharging it. “ Mr. Lloyd George came . . . and informed me that he is able to form an administration & told me the proposed names of his colleagues,” the King wrote in his diary. “ He will have a strong Government. I then appointed him Prime Minister & First Lord of the Treasury.”u

  The new Government was principally but not exclusively a Unionist one. The War Cabinet was composed of Lloyd George, Curzon, Milner, Bonar Law and Henderson. Carson, although not after all included in this body, became First Lord of the Admiralty. Balfour, directed by the pistol’s point,1 moved with speed but dignity from the Admiralty to the Foreign Office. No Liberal member of the late Cabinet (except for Lloyd George himself), not even Montagu,2 joined the new Government. None was formally invited, except for a late and not very attractive offer to Montagu, but Lloyd George would probably have been glad to have two or three of them had he believed that they would accept. A few lesser-known Liberals were brought in, and there were two Labour heads of departments, apart from Henderson.

  1 When offered the Foreign Secretaryship, Lord Beaverbrook wrote, Balfour “jumped up ” and said: “ Well, you hold a pistol to my head— I must accept.” (Politicians and the War, p. 502).

  2 He was badly torn by a conflict of loyalties, and in fact joined six months later.

  Asquith, as has been stated, believed that the end had come on the Tuesday, when he saw the Unionist leaders and gave his resignation to the King. On the Wednesday, after the Buckingham Palace Conference and his letter of refusal to Bonar Law, he was certain of it. Suggestions that, buoyed up by a false complacency about Lloyd George’s inability to form a Government, he was playing a tactical game, are unfounded. They are without support, either from Asquith’s character or from the course of events. Late on the Wednesday night he wrote a private letter from Downing Street:

  You see I am using up my stock of official paper. . . .

  I have been through the hell of a time for the best part of a month, and almost for the first time I begin to feel older.

  In the end there was nothing else to be done, though it is hateful to give even the semblance of a score to our blackguardly Press. I have very nice letters from all manner of people. . . .

  The colleagues today were unanimous in thinking—what seems obvious to me—that it is not my duty to join this new Government in a subordinate capacity. Apart from the personal aspect of the matter, it would never work in practice.

  So we are all likely to be out in the cold next week. We think of living under Violet’s roof on Cys’s salary, wh. he has just begun to earn at the Ministry of Munitions.v

  The humour of this letter was wry, and the sadness was pervasive, although by no means uncontrolled. But there was no hint of fighting back from a prepared position. There was a feeling of having been badly treated — but what Prime Minister, forced out and replaced by a lieutenant of eight years’ standing, would not have felt this? Bitterness, however, was reserved principally for the Press, about which, after years of being, in Margot’s phrase, “like St. Paul’s Cathedral,” Asquith was beginning to show signs of a mild obsession.

  The actions of most of the politicians he had discounted in advance. For this reason he showed no great resentment at Lloyd George, and even less at Bonar Law. What did surprise him was the amount of Cabinet support which they acquired. Here Asquith was misled, partly by Curzon’s falseness, but more importantly by his own mis-appraisal of Balfour. Although he had often been critical of Balfour in the past, Asquith instinctively regarded him as a man of much the same values as himself. He liked dealing with him, he persisted in treating him as the real leader of the Unionist Party, and he saw him as a fellow-member, perhaps the vice-captain, of the team of gentlemen in politics. But Balfour never thought as much of this team as did Asquith. Asquith thought they were far superior to the players. Balfour’s disdain and arrogance was greater: he did not think there was much to choose between the two sides. In addition, he had an unusually strong although carefully concealed love of office, and a complete faith in his own ability to look fastidious in any company.1 He was more attracted by opposites than was Asquith. One of his family referred jokingly to his having fallen in love with Lloyd George at the Buckingham Palace conference.w For all these reasons he found no difficulty in changing his allegiance to the new team. But for Asquith the shock of seeing Balfour stroll nonchalantly out of the pavilion, as happy as ever under the captain of the players, was profound. He should perhaps have remembered that others —George Wyndham and Austen Chamberlain, for instance—with more claim upon Balfour than Asquith had, had previously found themselves let down. If Asquith was wrong about Balfour’s character, he was right about the importance of his switch of allegiance. It was the most decisive single event of the crisis.

  Before leaving Downing Street Asquith had one important engagement to fulfil: to attend a full party meeting at the National Liberal Club—a similar one had not been summoned since his election to the leadership nearly nine years earlier—and place before the audience an account of his actions in the preceding week. This took place on the Friday (December 8th). The result was an overwhelming vote of confidence in his leadership. Montagu wrote of being “ deeply moved ” by “ Asquith’s firm hold on the affections of the whole Liberal Party.” That event over, he slept his last night in Downing Street, and then motored down the familiar Kent roads to Walmer. From there he wrote a characteristic letter to Mrs. Harrisson, a friend of a year or so’s standing, who was to be the recipient of many of his confidences for the remainder of his life:

  Sunday, 10 Dec. 16

  Dearest Hilda,

  I have two sweet letters from you still unanswered: I have been a shocking correspondent lately, but you will make excuses for me. If you want to understand something of the inner history of recent events you should look at the article called “ A Leap in the Dark ” in this week’s Nation. When I fully realised what a position had been created, I saw that I could not go on without dishonour or impotence, or both; and nothing could have been worse for the country and the war. Curiously enough, almost exactly the same thing has been going on in France, w
here the same forces have been at work producing nearly if not quite, the same result 1

  You cannot imagine what a relief it is not to have the daily stream of boxes and telegrams: not to mention Cabinets & Committees & colleagues & co. We are spending Sunday here by the sea: unluckily it is a gloomy day, but the vast crowd of shipping is a wonderful sight. I am writing in the little room where two years ago one Sunday Kitchener and French visited me and had a battle royal which I had to compose. Violet is here and the Crewes and Jimmy Rothschilds.

  The King offered me the Garter, but of course I refused. I am glad you are reading the Book of Job: I think I must refresh my memory of it.

  Bless you, dearest,

  Ever your loving,

  H.H.A.x

  1 Briand was under heavy fire at this time, but in fact survived as Prime Minister until March, 1917, when he was replaced by Ribot (then aged 75). Clemenceau did not come in until November, 1917.

  Asquith’s long premiership, still unequalled in duration since Lord Liverpool’s, was over. He was 64, and was never again to return to office. No brief summing up can do justice to his achievements and his failures, his qualities and his weaknesses; the balance of these should have emerged from the unfolding of events. But perhaps an appraisal by Edward Grey, always a notably cool (and even flat) writer on men and events, may serve as an epitome of his concept of leadership: