To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham’s language was his mother tongue
And Wolfe’s great name compatriot with his own.
Cowper.
Travelling about the world before the Great War, no one could fail to notice that the name of Mr. Lloyd George had already become an ensign. Men had begun to apply it to that particular type of statesman, becoming happily less rare, who take risks on behalf of the “common people.” It had become a way of classifying a statesman to speak of him as “Our Lloyd George.” This was especially the case with little nations. In Norway, for instance, during the winter of 1913-14, I found that that remarkable social reformer, Mr. Castberg, was generally spoken of as the “Norwegian Lloyd George”; and on meeting him I was surprised to find how closely he was modelling his policy on that of the British statesman. His chief aspiration was to meet Mr. Lloyd George and discuss with him his own schemes for simplifying and enlarging Norwegian social insurance and reforming their land system.
This was but one example of a very general tendency. There was another remarkable fact. Those who met and talked with Socialists either in France or in Germany during 1912-14, must have been astonished to discover that, in speaking of Great Britain, their thoughts were concerned not with any British Socialist leader, but almost always with Mr. Lloyd George. The reason of this was simple, but illuminating. European Socialism had for half a century been hand-cuffed to an impracticable idealism. Here was a man who achieved things. He might be an opportunist and a compromiser. Well, then, there was something to be said for opportunism and compromise. For the great thing was that, while all the idealists were still dreaming, this man was awake and doing.[[146]]
Apart from the Socialists, there was one European statesman who, long before the war, already realised Mr. Lloyd George as a possible European force. That was the great Cretan Greek, M. Venizelos. The instinctive mutual regard and respect of these two men is one of the most remarkable things in latter-day politics. There was telepathy in it. Across the length of Europe they seemed to have caught some message from one another even before they were acquainted. It was Mr. Lloyd George who especially urged on the Greek Government that M. Venizelos should come to the London Conference of 1912. It was on that visit that they met at the house of a friend and had a long conversation. They found much in common—a common hope for the little nations, a common belief in the unity and federation of the Balkan States as the one hope of the Near East.
It was after this that M. Venizelos said to a friend—“Mr. Lloyd George will save Europe.”
It was only gradually that Mr. Lloyd George emerged in Western Europe as a commanding figure in the world war. It was the French who first among European nations discovered him as a European. This was partly, no doubt, from some instinctive sympathy between the Gaul and the Celt; for very large numbers of Frenchmen—the Bretons—are actually still Celtic—even Welsh—both in thought and language.