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This time, perhaps feeling short of friends as a result of the Capel Mawr rift, or perhaps responding at last to their daughter’s pleas, the Owens relented. Mrs Owen made a half-hearted attempt to limit Lloyd George’s visits to three a week, but she must have known that she had been utterly defeated. With Lloyd George comfortably ensconced in her parlour from eight till ten each evening, it was only a matter of time before she would have to agree to a wedding.
By October, the issue was not if Lloyd George and Maggie would be married, but where and how. Lloyd George turned his mind to how to announce his engagement to his own mother and uncle. The denominational difference was likely to be an even greater obstacle to his own family than it was for the Owens, since even the strict rules of the Calvinistic Methodists did not live up to the puritanical standards of the Disciples of Christ. The prospect of their Davy, the golden boy of the family, marrying into another denomination was bound to cause a great upset. Lloyd George’s regard and respect for his uncle’s judgement was still strong, and he wrote in his diary in October: ‘We had a good talk about marriage. We arranged to get married soon—provided my uncle did not upon my talking the matter over with him show good cause to the contrary.’
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November 1887 came, and with it a significant milestone. On the fourth Maggie reached her twenty-first birthday, and her parents could no longer legally prevent her from marrying, although they could still withhold their blessing. They could only ask the young couple to respect their wishes, arguing that there were still practical reasons why the wedding could not take place yet. Lloyd George wrote in his diary on 1 November:
I then had a talk with Mr &Mrs Owen—they pleaded for delay—that they had made up their minds not to stay at Mynydd Ednyfed…but that they could not get anything like a good price for the stock these bad times…that if they sold their things under value it would be our loss in the end—they wished us to wait for a yr. or so—that we were quite young &c…I thought the old man very cunningly tried to persuade me to delay by showing me it was in my own interest…I told them when [Richard Owen] said something about money that I wanted no money as I had of course before coming to that point seen that I wd. have sufficient myself without any extraneous aid (I am not sure whether it would have been better to plead poverty—but I wanted to show them that I took no commercial views of my engagement). The interview ended by their asking me to reconsider the matter &see them again about it.
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With matters having reached this advanced stage, it was time for Lloyd George to steel himself to tell his invalid mother that he would soon be leaving home. He was careful to make sure that Polly was on hand with plenty of praise for Maggie, but this was not enough to soften the blow, and he recorded in his diary how upset Betsy was on hearing the news: ‘the poor old woman cried and said she felt my leaving very much. She then gave me some very good advice about being kind to Maggie, never saying anything nasty to her when I lost my temper, to be attentive to her if &when she was ill, that sort of thing. She praised M. very much from what she had heard from M.E.G. [Polly].’
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In her weakened, dependent state Betsy could not bear the thought of either of her sons marrying. She would have been upset even if Lloyd George were marrying a Baptist, but he knew that it would not be as easy to gloss over the chapel issue with Uncle Lloyd. For the meantime therefore he decided to say nothing to the old man until the very last minute, when all the arrangements for the wedding were in place.
At the end of November the Owens were still refusing to give the couple their blessing, but they finally gave in to Maggie’s pleading over Christmas—the denominational mismatch was such a serious matter that they had to formally consult Seion’s deacons before acknowledging the engagement. They began to bargain with Lloyd George over the location and form of the ceremony. Richard Owen would not hear of his daughter being married in a Baptist chapel, and Lloyd George knew that his uncle would not countenance a Methodist wedding. Two things were clear: a compromise would have to be found, and since neither family would be in a mood to celebrate, the wedding had better take place at a distance from Criccieth. Lloyd George argued strongly for Capel-y-Beirdd, a Baptist chapel three miles away, but Richard Owen had been defeated on every count thus far, and insisted on having his way with regard to the location. Lloyd George’s diary records his frustration: ‘The old folk still very adverse [sic] to going to Capel y Beirdd. Their hostility due in a great measure to a silly pride quite as much as to religious bigotry. I am inclined to get stiff about the matter. I would not care a rap where to get married, were it not that I am going out of my way to cater for sectarian pride and bigotry.’
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Richard Owen finally decided that the wedding should take place at the Calvinistic Methodist chapel at Pencaenewydd, and would brook no opposition. Lloyd George knew when to give in gracefully, and at last a date was set. Maggie and he would be married on 24 January 1888.
Pencaenewydd is a tiny hamlet hidden in the hills five miles inland from Criccieth. It is about as obscure a location for a wedding as could be found—hardly the natural choice for the popular Criccieth belle Maggie Owen. Richard Owen was signalling his disapproval as clearly as he could.
Finally, the time had come for Lloyd George to tell Uncle Lloyd that he was to be married, and to present him with the fait accompli of the wedding arrangements. He waited until 9 January, only two weeks before the ceremony he hoped his uncle would conduct, and, balking at witnessing the reaction of his guardian and mentor, he asked Betsy to break the news. Disappointing Richard Lloyd was one of the hardest things that Lloyd George had had to do in his life: he had never forgotten how much he owed his uncle, and marrying a non-Baptist was a poor way to repay him. He did not usually shirk difficult tasks, and his diary entries betray his nervous feelings as he approached this, the last hurdle of all: ‘Mam told Uncle today that I propose getting married in a fortnight—he seemed to feel it but said nothing except that he hoped we would go through the business without any fuss.’
Uncle Lloyd’s love for his nephew overcame his disappointment, and by the following day good relations were restored: ‘Told Uncle my reasons for not telling him before—he took it very well…He said that everyone told him my little girl was a charming and sensible lassie. He told us to learn steadiness, domesticity and unselfishness etc; warned me that I was entering in to a new family, and must adapt myself to its proclivities—excellent advice—feel much relieved after telling him.’
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Richard Lloyd had only a passing acquaintance with Maggie, but he could see that Lloyd George was quite determined, and whatever his private feelings, he accepted the match. In his diary he wrote that evening: ‘Mae pawb yn dweud ei bod yn eneth fwyn, synhwyrol ac yn eneth ddefnyddiol’ (Everyone says that she is a lovely sensible girl, and a practical girl).
(#litres_trial_promo) He agreed to conduct the ceremony, only stipulating that he would prefer the wedding to be as simple and unshowy as possible. In this respect, he was at one with Richard and Mary Owen.
When the news of the impending marriage became known, Maggie and Lloyd George were at last able to formalise their courtship. Given its clandestine nature, he had not had a chance to get used to acknowledging such a serious relationship in public. In addition, they had only a few days in which to make the wedding arrangements. On 19 January Lloyd George went to Pwllheli to take out a marriage licence, and it was then that the importance of the commitment he was about to enter hit him: ‘Never felt so queer. It was then I began to thoroughly realize what I was doing and I felt quite stunned tho’ without an atom of repentance or regret.’
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He was seemingly in the same frame of mind when he went away with some friends for a half-hearted stag weekend: ‘Drove to Rhyl with Howell Gee and Alun Lloyd—either I was in an extra serious mood owing to coming events or the company indulged in hilarity which I did not appreciate, for I did not enjoy myself—They drank, smoked and played billiards, and flirted with giddy barmaids.’
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It was with trepidation that Lloyd George finally approached his wedding day.
West of Llanystumdwy, a narrow road snakes its way inland into the heart of the Llŷn Peninsula, passing through the quiet hamlet of Pencaenewydd before meandering onwards. The village consists of a few farms and cottages and a pair of solid, semi-detached houses separated from the road by their well-kept gardens. Set further back from the road is a Calvinistic Methodist chapel, a plain, unremarkable stone building with a pair of tall, narrow arched windows overlooking the road. It is now a private residence but still bears a simple slate plaque with the words ‘Pencaenewydd M.C. 1822’ inscribed upon it.
It was there that David Lloyd George and Richard Lloyd made their way on the cold morning of Tuesday, 24 January 1888. They set off early, leaving Criccieth on the 7.15 train to Chwilog, five miles away. There they were met by Myrddin Fardd (the poet John Jones), a long-standing family friend, and they breakfasted with him before walking the three miles to Pencaenewydd. As they approached, a heavy mist shower began, as if to further dampen the mood. No other family members joined them for the ceremony. This was principally out of respect for Uncle Lloyd’s request for a quiet wedding. Whatever their private feelings on the matter, Betsy, Polly and William went about their business as usual on this momentous day.
At 10.15 the bridegroom entered the chapel and waited for his bride. He had just turned twenty-five years old, and had grown into a handsome young man, slim and carefully turned out, with a fashionable handlebar moustache adorning his upper lip. He wore the long frockcoat of the period, a waistcoat and a tie beneath a starched wing collar. His most striking features were his lively, intensely blue eyes, which on that morning could be forgiven for wearing a rather anxious expression. Maggie at twenty-one was very attractive; pretty rather than beautiful, but with calm blue eyes in a rounded face, compact features and a trim figure. They would make a good-looking couple.
The bride and her father arrived in the Mynydd Ednyfed carriage, accompanied by the Rev. John Owen. Maggie’s former suitor was there at Richard Owen’s insistence, for, notwithstanding any possible awkwardness, he had been asked to jointly preside over the ceremony, adding just a little bit more Methodism to placate the bride’s family.* (#ulink_f662d89e-bb26-5c33-9fed-e8c00a648f46) A second carriage drew up containing members of the Owen family—Mary Owen almost certainly, and perhaps Dorothy Roberts too—and they took their places inside the small chapel. The ceremony was conducted by Richard Lloyd, with prayers and a reading by John Owen. It went without a hitch, and the newlyweds were pelted with rice as they left in a carriage, bound for a short honeymoon in London.
At long last the deed was done, and Lloyd George and Maggie were married. Later that day he wrote in his diary: ‘I am very glad the whole business is over—Never felt so anxious.’
(#litres_trial_promo) Richard Lloyd’s comment in his diary was simply: ‘May Heaven make it to Dei and his Maggie a very bright red letter day.’
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* (#ulink_7f8d2d7a-7fa6-5dc3-a7b3-a154c2f2ef0e)Lloyd George, distracted by his political activities, had managed only a third class honours degree.
* (#ulink_46182044-bc5c-5646-a8f7-1dc97b9ac387)Maggie variously addressed Lloyd George in writing as ‘D’, Dei, or ‘Die’, all abbreviations of ‘David’.
* (#ulink_db168896-70d9-5a5d-9d71-9e1a0c72f1f1)The Rev. Owen’s feelings about the day’s proceedings are not recorded, but he later returned a postal order that Lloyd George sent him in recognition of his services, with a generously worded letter saying: ‘I never accept anything for marrying and burying people, nor for christening children, and I certainly would not break the rule with a couple of friends. Should either of you feel desirous of being properly buried I shall stick to my rule, or should any christenings be unavoidable in your family the terms will be the same…Wishing you both long life and real happiness, and with my kindest regards to Mrs George and yourself…’
6 From Wales to Westminster (#ulink_fecf5f12-0de1-52b7-9cdb-426ce8db1f57)
UNCLE LLOYD AND RICHARD OWEN may have wanted minimal fuss over the wedding, but Criccieth was determined to celebrate. As the newlyweds sped by train to London a bonfire was lit, fireworks set off and the whole town draped in bunting and flags to mark the wedding of two of its most popular young citizens. The greyness of the skies failed to deter the organisers, and although the suggestion was made that they should postpone celebrations until the couple returned from honeymoon this was rejected, since it was equally likely that the weather would be unfavourable then.
Lloyd George and the new Mrs Lloyd George spent a week enjoying the sights of London, no doubt relieved that the long-anticipated wedding had finally happened. But even on honeymoon, Lloyd George’s ambition did not allow him to stop working. He wrote a letter to D.R. Daniel, a political associate, from his London hotel, failing even to mention the wedding. What is yet more astounding is that this letter followed one that he had written on his actual wedding day, presumably before setting out from Morvin House at daybreak. He did at least make a passing reference to the significance of the day in that letter, but only in a brief and very oblique way: ‘yr ydwyf am gychwyn i wlad bell—gwell hefyd, disgwyliaf’ (I am about to set off for a far distant land—and a better one too, I expect).
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Lloyd George did not neglect Maggie, though, and together they made the most of the opportunities London offered, seeing a varied selection of the theatrical entertainment on offer—Hamlet, Puss in Boots and Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. The only incident that marred an otherwise happy time was an altercation between Lloyd George and a cab driver over a fare. The two nearly came to blows, but Maggie intervened.
Mr and Mrs David Lloyd George arrived safely back in Criccieth on 3 February to an enthusiastic welcome from a crowd of well-wishers. Mr Owen’s carriage was waiting at the station, and in a scene that would have been unimaginable only a few months previously, Lloyd George was borne back to Mynydd Ednyfed—where it had been decided that the couple would live at first—not as a guest, but as a member of the family. The disputes that had threatened the engagement were put aside, and Lloyd George’s diary entry for the night of their return shows his relief at the warm reception he received: ‘Mrs Owen very pleased to see us. Felt very awkward this first night at Mynydd Ednyfed. Both Mr. and Mrs. O were however very kind and assisted us to feel as homely as possible.’
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For Maggie, this arrangement was ideal. She was able to resume life with her beloved parents and almost-as-beloved maid, Margiad. She lived, as before, in her childhood home, but with the welcome addition of her handsome husband. Her parents made every effort to get on with the new member of the family, and having forgiven him for winning their daughter’s hand, quickly came to appreciate the qualities that appealed to her so strongly. Whenever Maggie was with Lloyd George in London over the following years, Richard Owen wrote a weekly letter with all the news from Mynydd Ednyfed, addressed affectionately to ‘Annwyl Blant’ (Dear Children), and at home he worked hard to promote his son-in-law’s political career. Had he realised how quickly Lloyd George would put aside his marriage vows, and how soon his political activities would give him the opportunity to stray, perhaps the welcome would not have been so warm.
The first months of marriage were golden for Maggie. She was a good-humoured young woman, naturally disposed to be happy, and had been very distressed by the endless quarrels of the previous months. Now she could live again as the pampered daughter of Mynydd Ednyfed while at the same time enjoying married life. To add to her happiness, she took pride in the professional success of her new husband. Each time he won a case or achieved public praise for his oratory she would carefully cut out the press reports and paste them in a scrapbook. A letter she wrote to him soon after the wedding is full of affection and contentment:
My dearest Die,
…I was very glad to hear that the case was partly heard yesterday &I fully trust that you will be able to return home Sunday morning. I will stop at home to expect you, so come up straight, will you?…Mother &I were at Morvin House last night, we had a cup of coffee before going home. You didn’t relish the going away without a few minutes with your Mag, so I was told. Well neither did I. If it had been possible I would have been at the station in no time, but there was no chance.
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Living with her parents may have appealed strongly to Maggie at the time, but it was probably not the wisest start to the young couple’s married life. A more definitive separation from her family might have given Maggie a better chance of learning about being a wife. At Mynydd Ednyfed, Mary Owen ran the household. Maggie was allowed to avoid all but the tasks she truly enjoyed: mainly gardening, which was a lifelong passion. She had never embraced the traditionally feminine skills: her school reports confirm that although she was a very good student in all other subjects, she was only ‘fair’ when it came to domestic science and simple sewing.
(#litres_trial_promo) She was neglectful of the more mundane aspects of housekeeping, and never seemed to get the hang of daily tasks such as lighting fires. This did not matter at Mynydd Ednyfed, where Mary and the servants attended to such things, but it became a bigger issue between Maggie and her husband later on.
Lloyd George was as fond of his creature comforts as Maggie was careless of them. He had been raised by extremely capable women whose first priority had been his comfort and welfare. Lloyd George and Maggie were raised in an age when it was considered a wife’s first duty to care for her husband and children. Maggie would prove to be superb at the latter, but she did not always attend as assiduously to the former. Lloyd George upbraided her from time to time for her lack of expertise in sewing and cooking, and they would often quarrel if he came home to an unlit hearth or an empty larder. But in the early days of their marriage it was not a cold hearth that awaited Lloyd George at the end of the day. His diary records his contentment when he returned home late one night to find that ‘Maggie was lying on the hearth waiting for me,’
(#litres_trial_promo) and in the summer following their wedding, Maggie found that she was expecting their first child.
The whole family rejoiced at the news, and Maggie was happy and contented during her pregnancy, which passed without complication. Her husband was working hard, and her letters to him while he was away on business or speaking at political gatherings are full of love:
Your letter to hand this morning &many thanks to you for writing, as I did not expect a letter this morning till tomorrow &it was all the sweeter for that reason.
I am afraid you won’t come home till Thursday, will you? Unless Mr Meek says you must which would be a good thing from my point of view…
I have no more to tell you, only that we are all alive and kicking here all of us mind you, hoping your cold is better. Let me know when to expect my sweetheart home, will you?
Best love
From your loving child* (#ulink_c4c0b279-ef8a-51c0-8f37-6c595e91c229) [&] wife
Maggie
Maggie did not have to wait long for her faith in Lloyd George’s ability to be justified. Only weeks after their wedding he took on a legal case that would put him on the first rung of the political ladder and make his name famous throughout Wales. He was asked to act in it partly because of his growing reputation for impressive performances in court, and partly because it coincided neatly with his political views, which were also becoming well known. The case concerned a prime example of the discrimination and injustice suffered by Welsh nonconformists at the hands of the English establishment; Lloyd George could not have devised a more appropriate peg on which to hang his political career.
The story began in 1864 when the parish church of Llanfrothen, a village eight miles east of Criccieth, received the gift from a Mr and Mrs Owen of a small adjoining strip of land to be an extension of the graveyard. It was walled in, consecrated and used for burials over the following years. At the time all burials on church ground had to be held according to Anglican rites, a rule that was bitterly resented by nonconformists. In 1880, after a decade of fruitless attempts, the Liberal MP for Denbighshire, George Osborne Morgan, succeeded in passing an Act to allow nonconformists to conduct funerals in parish churchyards according to their own rites. The law was changed, but the Church of England was not going to give up its monopoly on burials without a fight.
The vicar of Llanfrothen was Rev. Richard Jones, a dyed-in-the-wool conservative who deeply resented the new Act and was determined to prevent its implementation, in his churchyard at least. Rev. Jones examined the paperwork closely, decided that the Owens’ land had not been properly transferred in 1864, and persuaded Mrs Owen to re-convey her gift to the Church, specifying that only Anglican burials were to be permitted in it. This meant that nonconformists in the parish either had to submit to being buried according to Church rites or be buried in a scrap of land used for the graves of suicides and other undesirables.
The situation came to an explosive head in April 1888, when Robert Roberts, an old quarryman and a nonconformist, died. He had specified in his will that he wished to be buried next to his daughter, who had previously been buried in the Llanfrothen churchyard extension. The family arranged for a nonconformist funeral to be held, and to prevent this from happening, the Rev. Jones locked the churchyard gates and ordered the grave which had been prepared to be filled in. In desperation, Evan Roberts, the deceased’s brother, turned to Lloyd George for advice. Lloyd George came to the conclusion that, since the churchyard extension had been used for burials since 1864, it was subject to the 1880 Burial Act, and therefore the Rev. Jones was acting illegally. He confidently advised the family to return to Llanfrothen, prise the gates open by force and conduct the funeral according to the deceased’s wishes. Such open defiance of the Church was virtually unprecedented, and the case attracted widespread publicity.
The Rev. Jones was incensed, and sued the Roberts family for trespass. The case came before Porthmadoc County Court in May 1888, with Lloyd George acting for the defence. A jury of local people found in favour of the Roberts family, but in a breathtaking example of bias, the judge inaccurately recorded their verdict and ruled for the Church. Lloyd George refused to be beaten, and encouraged the family to appeal. The case came before the High Court in London in December 1888. Amid triumphant scenes that were reported widely in newspapers and celebrated throughout the length and breadth of Wales, the Lord Chief Justice overturned the previous judgement, awarded the family their costs and, for good measure, reprimanded the Porthmadoc judge for his conduct.
The commentators were virtually unanimous: Lloyd George had single-handedly challenged the persecutors of nonconformism and won justice for his people against the English-speaking establishment. The young lawyer from Criccieth was a hero.
Maggie was proud of her husband, who had proved to the world that he was principled, courageous and eloquent. Had she realised the full consequences of his notoriety, though, she might not have been so happy. The Liberal Party in Caernarvon Boroughs was selecting a candidate for the general election presumed to be forthcoming in 1892. Ten days or so after the Llanfrothen triumph they made their decision. Their candidate was Lloyd George, the hero of the hour.
Though he lived in a rural area of North Wales, the constituency which Lloyd George was to represent in Parliament for fifty-five years was comprised of the urban populations of six townships: Criccieth, Pwllheli, Nevin, Caernarvon, Bangor and Conway. It had around 4,000 registered voters out of a total population of nearly 29,000. The naturally Liberal populations of Criccieth, Pwllheli and Nevin were counterbalanced by the Church-dominated, largely Tory-voting citizens of the cathedral city of Bangor. The constituency could sometimes confound expectations, as had happened in the general election of 1886. The Liberals and the Liberal Unionists had swept the board in Wales, winning twenty-eight of the thirty-four parliamentary seats, but, presented with an unpopular Liberal candidate, Caernarvon Boroughs had elected the Tory Edmund Swetenham.
There is an element of luck in every successful political life, and it was Lloyd George’s good fortune that there was an opportunity for him to be selected as a candidate in his home constituency so early in his career. He had worked hard to be in a position to be a credible candidate, serving as Secretary of the local Anti-Tithe League and launching a Liberal newspaper, Udgorn Rhyddid (Freedom’s Trumpet) with some friends. Financially he was worse off after marrying than before, but perhaps his Llanfrothen victory had given him confidence that he could make a success of his law practice, or perhaps he simply could not bring himself to refuse an opportunity that might not come again for years. Having stood aside in 1886 he was not about to do so again, and after winning the nomination he prepared to wait—at least two years, he thought—for the next general election.
This was not at all to Maggie’s liking. As she prepared for the birth of her first child, she might have been able to ignore Lloyd George’s increasing preoccupation with politics, but when he accepted the candidacy for a seat that was winnable at the next election she could no longer do so. She tearfully tried to dissuade him from accepting, arguing that it was impractical for him to take on an unpaid job in London when they were expecting a baby and did not even have a house of their own. This was not unreasonable. A less ambitious man might have preferred to secure his family financially before launching himself into national politics. But Lloyd George had been raised to go as far as he could as early as he could. He took the view that his family would always provide for him, and he received encouragement from Morvin House. It was left to William George to worry about how the newly formed two-man legal practice could support two families with Lloyd George, at best, a part-time partner.
Lloyd George and Maggie’s first child, Richard (known as Dick), was born on 15 February 1889 in the room in which Maggie herself was born. His parents’ excitement was matched by his grandparents’ delight. Richard and Mary Owen loved children and would play a large part in their grandchildren’s lives, often taking care of them for weeks while their parents were in London. In happy anticipation of many more new arrivals, Richard Owen decided to retire from farming, and after realising his assets he built a pair of tall, semidetached stone houses in Criccieth overlooking the bay. He and Mary would live in one, and Maggie and her family would be close at hand, next door.
This new arrangement was much more to Lloyd George’s taste. Despite his improved relationship with his in-laws, there were signs that he was missing his personal freedom, and he was finding reasons for spending evenings away from Mynydd Ednyfed. This was, to an extent, justifiable, since as he was the Liberal candidate he needed to make himself known, and he was also working hard to build up his legal practice. He did not see the two as separate activities: to place himself in the best possible position at the time of the next general election, he had to develop his reputation as a public speaker, and following the Llanfrothen case, his court addresses were often reported in the press. During 1889 his law and political careers progressed in harmony, his success in court adding to his reputation as a rising political star. As an advocate he displayed the eloquence, the debating skill and the remarkable independence of mind that were to characterise the mature politician. He was at his best championing the rights of the people he had grown up with against the landowners, and he became famous for his audacious and aggressive challenges to any display of prejudice from the bench.
The impact of Lloyd George’s behaviour was all the greater because the local JPs and judges would have expected a local solicitor to show due deference not only to their legal authority over him, but also because the landowners had grown accustomed to getting their own way where nonconformists were concerned. It might have been wise for Lloyd George to be a little less antagonistic towards the bench, but he had already left behind the thought of a career in law, and was playing to a wider audience than that in the courtroom. His clashes with the magistrates attracted valuable publicity, and his reputation as defender of the working man’s rights helped his political career. He had nothing to lose in attacking the pompous, class-prejudiced magistrates who presided in court. They in turn did not know how to deal with the fearless young attorney who simply would not let them ride roughshod over the rights of the Welsh people.
Maggie was delighted by Lloyd George’s growing fame as a lawyer, speaker and people’s champion, but he was also becoming more established in the Liberal Party in Caernarvonshire, which was less to her liking. She did not join in any of his political activities, but she faithfully wrote to give him the political gossip during his business trips. Early in 1889 she wrote: ‘I am sorry to inform you that the most zealous person on the side of Cebol at Mynydd Ednyfed has turned round to canvass for Mr Graves. She is going to see these persons instead of Father. Old Cebol is very ill, poor fellow. Father thinks that if he gets in, he will jump out of bed like a shot, and should he lose will die poor fellow.’
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Maggie was referring to the local elections of January 1889, when, following the 1888 Local Government Reform Act, county councils were formed for the first time. The elections were the cause of much celebration in Wales, representing as they did the first wholesale transfer of local power from squires and magistrates to elected politicians. The voters of Caernarvonshire were not slow to take advantage of their opportunity. The Liberals were determined to maximise their representation on the new council, and took control with a handsome majority. Indeed, the Liberals took every county in Wales, with the exception of Brecon in the south. Naturally Lloyd George had been seen as a potential candidate, but his eyes were on the greater prize of Westminster. Nevertheless, he campaigned energetically throughout the county with the message that electing Liberal, Welsh-speaking nonconformists to the councils was a vital step along the road to self-government for Wales.
At the age of twenty-six, Lloyd George was already seen as one of the most able and prominent politicians in North Wales, and the newly formed council co-opted him to the position of Alderman, usually reserved for senior Councillors.* (#ulink_6f0b18e7-7a81-5431-bc03-4a8a5831e591) The co-option of the ‘Boy Alderman’ was widely reported; there was no doubt that Lloyd George’s star was in the ascendancy.
In welcoming the results of the county elections, Lloyd George spelled out his desire for self-determination in Wales. As ever, he was at the forefront of the radical wing of the Liberals, stating in a speech in Liverpool in 1889: ‘Those elections afforded the best possible test of the growth in Wales of the national movement, which, after all, is but a phase of the great Liberal movement.’ The growing confidence of the new political class in Wales was creating momentum for a campaign similar to that which Irish MPs were pressing for Home Rule. The young Lloyd George and his fellow radicals were impatient for self-determination, tired of having Wales’ claims to Home Rule treated less seriously than those of Ireland. To the South Wales Liberal Federation in February 1890 he declared:
Welsh Home Rule alone can bring within the reach of this generation the fruits of its political labours. Now it surpasses my imagination to conceive how persons who are ardent advocates of Irish Home Rule can discover any plausible reason for objecting to Welsh Home Rule…For my own part, I cannot help believing that the prospects of Wales would be brighter and more promising were her destinies controlled by a people whose forefathers proved their devotion to her interests on a thousand battlefields with their hearts’ blood, and a people who, despite the persecutions of centuries, have even to this very hour preserved her institutions and her tongue, and retained the same invincible love for her hills.
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With so many calls upon his time, one might have expected Lloyd George to save his leisure hours for his wife and young son. But the parlour of Mynydd Ednyfed was less attractive to him than the meetings of the local amateur dramatic society, where the company was congenial and he could indulge his love of oratory. He became a regular attendee at the society’s private parlour meetings, and was able to indulge his love of female company at the same time. His son Dick later claimed that Lloyd George had an affair during this period with a widow in Caernarvon. The lady was identified only as ‘Mrs J’, a well-known Liberal activist and a popular member of Lloyd George’s social circle. If this is true, his marital fidelity to Maggie lasted only a few months.
The revelation that Mrs J and Lloyd George were on intimate terms was apparently prompted by the sensational discovery that she was pregnant, which soon came to the attention of the leaders of the Liberal Association. Faced with the potential ruin of all his political hopes, Lloyd George had to ensure both that the scandal was ended before he could be deselected, and that Maggie did not find out about it. With Mrs J’s cooperation, he succeeded on both counts. Dick writes that she accepted an annuity for life with the condition that no documentary evidence or photographs of the child ever came to light.
Dick’s colourful account of his father’s love life has been rightly viewed with a degree of scepticism, since he had reason to be angry with his father. When the book was published in 1960 Lloyd George was long dead, and a rift between them had led to him disinheriting his firstborn. Furthermore, Dick was by then a sick man who needed money, and some say he was well remunerated for his sensational material, and that the book was actually ghost-written. The book contains many rumours of affairs. Dick concluded that his father was ‘probably the greatest natural Don Juan in the history of British politics’, and that ‘With an attractive woman he was as much to be trusted as a Bengal tiger with a gazelle.’
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But the story of the affair with Mrs J gains credibility from Lady Olwen Carey Evans, Lloyd George’s third child, who mentions the Caernarvon widow in her own autobiography. Olwen was in her nineties when her memoir (also ghost-written) was published in 1985, but unlike Dick she had maintained a good relationship with her father. More to the point, she was a sensible and level-headed woman who neither worshipped nor reviled her father. To a greater extent than any of his other children, she was immune to the glamour of his personality, and was better able to judge his strengths and weaknesses. Her book deals with his womanising in a matter-of-fact way, describing his lifelong weakness for women while emphasising also the strength of his marriage: ‘Although it was not until after I married that Mother ever mentioned Father’s infidelities to me, I was aware from an early age that there were other women in his life…I believe Father started having affairs with other women very soon after my parents were married.’
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Given the lack of hard evidence for many of Lloyd George’s rumoured affairs, it has been suggested that there is an element of myth in his reputation as a womaniser. It is true that he covered his tracks well, and no indisputable evidence has been uncovered to link him with any illegitimate offspring. No mistress has confessed publicly to a liaison apart from his second wife, Frances, and during his life he won every court case involving his personal life. But everyone who knew Lloyd George well acknowledged this side of his character, and the testimony of his closest confidants, his family and his political colleagues must carry significant weight. From the wives of his parliamentary colleagues to secretaries in his office, his conquests, it seems, were many and varied. If he did not in fact live up to his reputation, he must surely be among the most unfairly maligned figures in history.
It is not surprising that so little hard evidence exists. Lloyd George carried out his liaisons with women who had a great deal to lose and nothing to gain by exposing him. Either from preference or from deliberate calculation, he also often favoured women who did not keep diaries or make demands of one of the country’s most eminent politicians. Those who did were swiftly cut out of his life. He also won the loyalty of his mistresses because, in his own way, he genuinely loved women. He did not deceive them with promises of a future together, and he tended to leave behind goodwill, not enmity, at the end of a liaison. Such appears to have been the case with Mrs J, who remained on good terms with him for many years.
It was thanks to the good nature of his lover, and perhaps also to William George’s legal skills, that the young Liberal candidate survived to fight his first general election. Domestic harmony was also preserved, although the family later ‘tacitly acknowledged’, as Olwen put it, that they had a half-brother living in Caernarvon. Dick made extensive enquiries when he first heard the rumours as an adult, and concluded that the story was true. He avoided being seen with his half-brother in public because the physical resemblance between them was so strong. Due to the speed with which the settlement was arranged, Maggie never came to hear the rumours. As Olwen commented, she was spared this time, but was not to be so fortunate in the years to come.
Unaware of her husband’s behaviour, Maggie continued to play little part in Lloyd George’s professional and social worlds. Her life revolved around her baby, and she was preparing to leave Mynydd Ednyfed to move to the new house in town. She was also pregnant again, with Dick barely nine months old.
On 20 March 1890 Maggie had arranged to meet Lloyd George at Criccieth station. He had gone to Porthmadoc early in the morning on business, and the two of them planned to spend the rest of the day together in Caernarvon. As she arrived on the platform Maggie was handed a telegram addressed to ‘Lloyd George’. Assuming that it was for her, she opened it and read the four-word message that was to change her life: ‘Swetenham died last night.’ Maggie was thus the first to receive the shocking news that Edmund Swetenham, Caernarvon Boroughs’ Conservative MP, was dead of a heart attack at the age of sixty-eight. Maggie knew what the news meant: there would be a byelection in Caernarvon Boroughs, and instead of enjoying the next two years quietly with his wife, Lloyd George was facing the first major battle of his political life immediately, and with no time to prepare.
Struggling to take in the unexpected news, Maggie did not know what to do and held back from buying her ticket to Caernarvon in case Lloyd George wanted to cancel the trip. But when he arrived on the Porthmadoc train they decided to go ahead as planned, perhaps sensing that this would be their last outing together for the foreseeable future. They did not have a happy time. As Maggie later put it, ‘The sunshine seemed to have gone from the day…The shadow of the coming election spoiled everything.’
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Lloyd George was not the only one to be caught out by Swetenham’s death. The Conservatives had to find a new candidate at once, and luckily for Lloyd George, the best candidate they could field at such short notice was the Llanystumdwy squire, Hugh Ellis-Nanney. There was rich irony in the battle between the Highgate lad and the living embodiment of the social system he hated so much.
As the campaign began, the outcome was far from certain. Lloyd George was in many ways the perfect candidate for the constituency: local born, Welsh-speaking and eloquent. He had also been making himself known to the electorate for over a year. Ellis-Nanney on the other hand was affable, well-meaning and an experienced candidate, having stood for Caernarvonshire Division in 1880, and for South Caernarvonshire Division in 1885. But he had lost both times, and was not in good health when he was persuaded to try again in 1890. He was also not Welsh-speaking, which was becoming more of an issue with the electorate. With little time to prepare, Ellis-Nanney played the strongest card in his hand, depicting his opponent as a radical firebrand and, less advisedly, as a young man who was more interested in the wider world than in Caernarvon Boroughs. The slurs only emphasised the unflattering contrast between the squire and his brilliant young opponent.
Lloyd George had two tireless campaigners at his side in Uncle Lloyd and his brother William. The three set out to attend to every possible detail during the election period, and Lloyd George consulted them on his every move, even enlisting his brother’s help in writing his election address. In it, he held back his most radical views in order not to frighten off the more moderate Liberal voters. His address ‘To the Free and Independent Electors of the Carnarvonshire District Boroughs’ was resolutely Gladstonian. He declared early on: ‘I come before you as a firm believer in and admirer of Mr. Gladstone’s noble alternative of Justice to Ireland,’ before making a brief reference to Wales’ own claims, not to Home Rule, since that was still controversial, but to the disestablishment of the Church in Wales, which would end the dominance of the Church over the Welsh nonconformist majority, and which was the Liberals’ main campaign in the late 1880s and 1890s. He said:
I am deeply impressed with the fact that Wales has wants and aspirations of her own which have too long been ignored, but which must no longer be neglected. First and foremost among these stands the cause of Religious Liberty and Equality in Wales. If returned to Parliament by you, it shall be my earnest endeavour to labour for the triumph of this great cause. Wales has for many a year yearned in her heart for the attainment of that religious equality and freedom which is impossible whilst the English Church as by law established is imposed upon us as the National Religion of Wales, and is maintained by Welsh national endowments, and whilst clerical bigotry dominates over our Churchyards.
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The reference to churchyards was a none-too-subtle reminder of the candidate’s personal triumph at Llanfrothen.
The Tories bitterly opposed Welsh disestablishment, and William George described in his diary how fierce the battle became: ‘We are in the thick of the fight. Personal rather than party feeling runs high. The Tories began by ridiculing D’s candidature; they have now changed their tune. Each party looks upon it as a stiff fight…The struggle is not so much a struggle of Tory v Liberal or Radical even; the main issue is between country squire and the upstart democrat.’
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Lloyd George was not afraid of being tagged ‘an upstart democrat’. He rejoiced in being a new breed of politician. By virtue of his education and legal qualifications he belonged more truly to the professional middle classes than to the ‘gwerin’ or peasant class, but he emphasised his humble origins in a speech that came to be recognised as prophetic:
I see that one qualification Mr Nanney possesses…is that he is a man of wealth, and that the great disqualification in my case is that I am possessed of none…I once heard a man wildly declaiming against Mr Tom Ellis as a Parliamentary representative; but according to that man Mr Ellis’s disqualification consisted mainly in the fact that he had been brought up in a cottage. The Tories have not yet realised that the day of the cottage-bred man has at last dawned.
