Ffion Hague - The Pain and the Privilege - The Women in Lloyd George’s Life

It would have been cold as Richard Lloyd dammed the stream to form a pool of water for the baptism. Nevertheless, he waded into the water as he did for each baptism ceremony, and stood waist-high to receive the candidates who waited on the bank. When it was Davy’s turn, Uncle Lloyd asked him solemnly if he believed in God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and then if he would promise, with the help of Jesus Christ, to love and serve God for the rest of his life. The boy answered with the customary ‘I do!’ and waded out to join his uncle in the cold flowing water. Richard Lloyd baptised David Lloyd George in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and then, supporting his nephew in his strong arms, plunged him momentarily under the surface of the water. Dripping wet, Lloyd George made his way back to the waiting congregation before taking his first communion inside the chapel. It was to be a turning point in his life, not because of its religious significance, but because he decided from that day onward to adopt the ‘Lloyd’ in his name as a second surname, in tribute to the man who raised him. He was no longer Davy Lloyd, but David Lloyd George. 14

The religious intensity of the ceremony, however, was too much for the independent-minded Lloyd George. That night as he lay in bed he experienced a dramatic anti-conversion. It occurred to him suddenly, with perfect clarity, that everything he had been taught about religion, and even the Bible itself, was nothing more than unfounded imaginings. He saw an image of his family’s deepest-held beliefs collapsing around him like a building falling into ruin. 15 He sat bolt upright in bed and shouted out loud that God and all the things he had been taught were but a dream.

Lloyd George fully realised the significance of the revelation. He tried to pray, but when he closed his eyes he heard only his own voice echoing in the emptiness. He had a sleepless night, but kept his feelings to himself for some time before tentatively confessing to Uncle Lloyd. Demonstrating the wisdom for which he was renowned, Richard Lloyd reacted calmly. He told the boy that it was natural to doubt, and that his faith would return in due course. Lloyd George was not so sure. Religion had lost its hold on him. He continued to obey the rules of his upbringing, when his family were around at least, but more to appear respectable than out of conviction. He continued to attend, and even to enjoy, chapel services with his family, but he experienced them as a spectator rather than as a believer. He loved the ‘theatre’ of religion, relished a good sermon, but seemed to pick up more tips on public speaking than on saving his soul. He would listen avidly to the best pulpit performers, and would critique them later in his diary, noting how a good preacher held his audience by using his voice to create dramatic emphasis, or by gesturing with his arms to mark an emotional climax. Special praise was always reserved for Uncle Lloyd, whose sermons he admired, even if he was not convinced by their content. Throughout his life he continued to enjoy nonconformist services with their fervent hymn-singing and dramatic preaching, but he lived according to his own, very different, rules.

Richard Lloyd was a well-read and highly self-educated man. He took a close interest in his nephews’ and niece’s reading, and made good use of William George’s library. These books were treasured by the whole family, and were kept in a glass-fronted cabinet in the parlour. They included Shakespeare’s plays, Green’s History of England , Burnet’s History of the Reformation (six volumes), The Pictorial History of England by Charles Knight (eight volumes), a complete set of the Penny Encyclopaedia , Webster’s Dictionary , The Journals of George Fox , Arnold’s Life and Correspondence (two volumes), Hallam’s Constitutional History , Guizot’s History of the English Revolution and many language texts and books on education as well as classic works of literature.

In order to pass his law exam, Lloyd George needed to study Latin as well as a second language (Welsh, needless to say, did not count). Mr Evans could teach him some rudimentary Latin, but there was no one in the village who knew French. Uncle Lloyd was not to be deterred: a French primer had been among the first David Lloyd’s possessions, together with a copy of Aesop’s fables in French, and every evening, after a hard day’s labour in the workshop, Uncle Lloyd bent his head over a candle to teach himself French before passing on his knowledge to his nephew. In this way, often staying only one lesson ahead of his pupil, he succeeded in getting Lloyd George up to the required standard. He also painstakingly worked alongside the boy as they tackled the first volume of Julius Caesar’s De Bello Gallico and Sallust’s Catiline . The cost to his health and strength must have been enormous. Not only did he work hard into the evening, but also long into the night when the rest of the family was in bed, reading texts and preparing the sermons he delivered every Sunday to his congregation. But nothing was too much trouble for the boy he regarded as a son.

In October 1877 Uncle Lloyd accompanied his nephew to Liverpool, the longest journey of his life, to sit the preliminary examination, and on 8 December Lloyd George heard that he had passed. He was to look back on the day the postman bore the good news to Highgate as the most memorable day of his life. ‘On that day,’ recorded his mistress many years later, ‘he was treading on air, the future was heaven, everything seemed possible.’ 16

Lloyd George was now ready to serve his articles with a law firm, if one could be persuaded to take him on. Through dogged enquiries and a lot of string-pulling by friends of the family, Randall Casson, of the firm Breese, Jones & Casson in Porthmadoc, agreed to give the boy a place as an articled clerk, with an initial six-month trial period. Betsy’s precious capital was raided to find the £100 (£8,000 at today’s values) needed to pay for his indenture, and a further £80 in stamp duty was found from the family’s barely adequate funds. David Lloyd George, aged fifteen, was finally on his way. Ahead lay fame, if not fortune, and the glittering career his family confidently expected. More immediate was the heady freedom of living away from his family for the first time in his life, and the opportunity it afforded to explore the worlds of politics—and girls.

IN JULY 1878 DAVID LLOYD GEORGE packed his scant belongings and left Highgate for the wider world beyond Llanystumdwy. At fifteen, he was too young to be fully independent, and it was arranged that he should lodge in Porthmadoc during the week, returning home on Sundays. But his ambition was limitless, and his family urged him on, despite the daunting cost of his training and the sacrifices they would have to make to support him. Lloyd George’s success was their dearest ambition, their collective life’s work, and he could count on receiving the lion’s share of the family’s resources.

While he headed for Porthmadoc and all the stimulation that the world of work could offer, his sister Polly had returned home to Highgate and a life without prospects. She accepted her fate calmly, but a recurring illness over the next few years suggests that all was not well with her. In Richard Lloyd’s diary he records her poor health with deep sympathy. On one occasion, after she had been confined to bed for three weeks, he voiced his frustration at not being able to help her as he had helped her brother: ‘Would feel greatly relieved in mind were it in my power to put her in a respectable position in life, in a way of business, or some other occupation to suit her disposition and abilities. But for the present we must both in her and Wil Bach’s [Little William’s] case try and learn to labour and to wait.’ 1