rd, he
employed his kinship with the people to the fullest extent. The Commoner
won. As the great structure of social reform rose under his dynamic
powers so did the influence of the House of Lords crumble like an
Edifice of Cards. Democracy in England meant something at last!

The tumult and the shouting died, the smoke cleared, and Lloyd George
stood revealed as England's Strong Man, a sort of Atlas upholding the
World of Public Life and much of its responsibilities.

Now for the first time he was caught up in the fabric of the Crimson Net
that a few years later was to haul nearly all Europe into war. In 1911
Germany made a hostile demonstration in Morocco. Although England had no
territorial interests there, it was important for many reasons to warn
the Kaiser that she would oppose his policy with armed force if
necessary. A strong voice was needed to sound this note. Lloyd George
did it.

Hence it came about that the Chancellor of the Exchequer stood in the
Mansion House on a certain momentous day and hurled the defi at the War
Lord. It called the Teuton bluff for a while at least. In the light of
later events this speech became historic. Not only did Lloyd George
declare that "national honour is no party question," but he affirmed
that "the peace of the world is much more likely to be secured if all
the nations realise fairly what the conditions of peace must be."

Persistent pacifist propagandists to-day may well take warning from that
utterance. He still believes it.

The spark that flashed at Agadir now burst into flame. The Great War
broke and half the world saw red. What Lloyd George believed impossible
now became bitter and wrathful reality. Though he did not know it at the
moment, the supreme opportunity of his life lay on the lap of the god of
Battles.

The Lloyd George who sat in council in Downing Street was no dreaming
pacifist. He who had tried to stop the irresistible flood of the Boer
War now rode the full swell of the storm that threatened for the moment
to engulf all Britain.

As Chancellor of the Exchequer he was called upon to shape the fiscal
policies that would be the determining factor in the War of Wars. "The
last L100,000,000 will win," he said. Only one other man in
England--Lord Kitchener--approached him in immense responsibility of
office in the confidence of the people. It was a proud but equally
terrifying moment.

Then indeed the little Welshman became England's Handy Man. As