There is no need of rehearsing here the long-drawn struggle through which he made his way to party leadership. In Parliament and out, he was a hornet—a good thing to let alone, and an ugly customer to stir up. Whether he lined up with the Government or Opposition it mattered little. Lloyd George has always been an insurgent at heart.
The crowded Nineties were now nearing their end, carrying England and Lloyd George on to fateful hour. Ministries rose and fell: Roseberry and Harcourt had their day: Chamberlain climbed to power: Asquith rose over the horizon. The long smouldering South African volcano burst into eruption. It meant a great deal to many people in England but to no man quite so much as to Lloyd George.
Now comes the first of the many amazing freaks that Fate played with him. The Institution of War which in later years was to make him the very Rock of Empire was now, for a time at least, to be his undoing.
Before the conflict with the Boers Lloyd George was a militant pacifist—a sort of peacemaker with a punch. When England invaded the Transvaal Lloyd George began a battle for peace that made him for the first time a force in Imperial affairs. He believed himself to be the Anointed Foe of the War and he dedicated himself and all his powers to stem what seemed to be a hopeless tide.
It was a courageous thing to do for he not only risked his reputation but his career. Up and down the Empire he pleaded. He was in some respects the brilliant Bryan of the period but with the difference that he was crucifying himself and not his cause upon the Cross of Peace. He became the target of bitter attack: no epithet was too vile to hurl upon him. Often he carried his life in his hands as the episode of the Birmingham riot shows. In all his storm tossed life nothing approached this in daring or danger.
Lloyd George was invited to speak in the Citadel of Imperialism which was likewise the home of Joseph Chamberlain, Arch-Apostle of the Boer War. Save for the staunchest Liberals the whole town rose in protest. For weeks the local press seethed and raged denouncing Lloyd George as "arch-traitor" and "self-confessed enemy." He was warned that he would imperil his life if he even showed himself. He sent back this word: "I am announced to speak and speak I will."
He reached Birmingham ahead of schedule time and got to the home of his host in safety. All day long sandwich men paraded the highways bearing placards calling upon the citizenry to assemble at the Town Hall where Lloyd George was to speak "To defend the King, the Government and Mr. Chamberlain."
Night came, the streets were howling mobs, every constable was on duty. The hall was stormed and when Lloyd George appeared on the platform he faced turmoil. Hundreds of men carried sticks, clubs and bricks covered with rags and fastened to barbed wire. When he rose to speak Bedlam let loose. Jeers, catcalls and frightful epithets rained on him and with them rocks and vegetables. He removed his overcoat and stood calm and smiling. When he raised his voice, however, the grand assault was made. Only a double cordon of constables massed around the stage kept him from being overwhelmed. In the free-for-all fight that followed one man was killed and many injured.
Anything like a speech was hopeless: the main task was to save the speaker's life, for outside in the streets a bloodthirsty rabble waited for its prey. Lloyd George started to face them single-handed and it was only when he was told that such procedure would not only foolishly endanger his life but the lives of his party which included several women, he consented to escape through a side door, wearing a policeman's helmet and coat.
Fourteen years later Lloyd George returned to Birmingham acclaimed as a Saviour of Empire. Such have been the contrasts in this career of careers.