WE no longer lived in a world of drawn blinds and darkened streets. London thoroughfares were once again illuminated. Flashing searchlights were no longer sweeping the sky in search of hostile aircraft. Trafalgar Square soon became normal. During the last phase of the war it had resembled a huge theatre. War pictures were thrown on the screen at the base of Nelson's column. A corner of devastated France, with ruined church and shattered houses, had been erected there. They had brought the war home to the passer-by.

Many went through a period of acute depression soon after peace came. After the excitement of the closing weeks of war inevitable reaction set in. It was difficult to adjust oneself to the new and changed world. My diary of 20 November states, "Finding life rather difficult these days, everything is up in the air." There was a proposal to establish a special American Information Section of the Foreign Office, to be situated at Crewe House,(1) and I was asked to take charge. But a few days later the Government decided to abandon the scheme.

Depressing news reached me from America concerning the English-Speaking Union. There were dissensions in the group that was organising the movement there, and I was asked to mark time. The knowledge that some of the American supporters of the Union were disunited was disturbing. How was it possible for there to be squabbling among workers for the cause of unity? Alas, I am now wiser. I no longer expect miracles. Some of the bitterest feuds I have witnessed have been in connection with work for international understanding.

I experienced a phase of acute depression. I lost faith in my scheme for the time being and in my ability to carry it through---though I am glad to say this lack of confidence was not of long duration.

I thought of St. François de Sales' words. "Every complaining spirit implies some dissatisfaction with God's decrees and a good deal of self-love."

Disenchanted egoism, that was it!

On a November evening I attended the Benediction Service at Westminster Cathedral. Nearby was an infantry officer praying. His face was buried in his handkerchief and his body was shaken by the sobs he was trying to control. Poor fellow, I wondered what his sorrows were.

In the vast and dim spaces of the Cathedral his soul found refuge. He walked slowly past me to the holywater stoup. The sign of the cross appeared to signify his acquiescence in the great mystery of existence---suffering. In moments of extreme sorrow the tortured being sees God. He may not understand the why of life, the enigma of suffering may still baffle him. But his heart finds rest in the knowledge that he is in the sanctuary of the Man of Sorrows. There is no aspect of human anguish which cannot be laid at the foot of the Cross.

The task of reconstruction now began. The statesmen were busy attempting to build a new and better world. Ordinary mortals had their personal problems to deal with, to put their affairs in order, to clean their shabby houses and flats, to buy new curtains and chintzes. Tens of thousands of people engaged on war work suddenly found themselves without jobs. The streets began to have a pre-war appearance. Oversea fruits, including oranges, bananas and pineapples, appeared once more in the windows of the shops. In February I wrote:

One morning last week, as I emerged from the Temple Underground station, it came as rather a shock to notice that we had returned to newspaper bills. Confronting me was a row of placards with the words, "West End Shooting Affray---Colonel and D.S.O. Involved." Owing to the paper shortage, newspaper contents bills disappeared from the streets of London in March, 1917, and quite frankly they have not been missed. Contents bills are unknown in America, and one does not find them in pads. Surely this was one of the pre-war institutions that we might have dispensed with.

Extracts from letters written during the concluding weeks of 1918 follow:

Sunday, 17 November, 1918.

F. arrived last night looking very well and laden down with all the lovely butter and eggs and other supplies you got him to bring over to me. I had a delicious fresh egg for my breakfast to-day.

I will be photographed at an early date and will send you one for your birthday, only I don't want to be in uniform, as I am not a proper soldier and I hate giving a false impression to anyone who sees it.

I dined one night at Dr. Johnson's house(2) with Cecil Harmsworth. It was an interesting gathering. Henry Dickens, son of Charles D., H. B. Irving, J. Forbes-Robertson, Birrell, E. V. Lucas, W. W. Jacobs, Rothermere and others.

On Thursday Mrs. Humphry Ward gave a lunch for the Editors. The Duchesses of Arholl and Marlborough, Dame Katharine Furse, Mrs. Randall Davidson (Archbishop's wife), the head of the W.A.A.C.'s, Mrs. Alfred Lyttelton and others.

On Thursday dinner with General Smuts as a farewell to the second party of editors.

The Ministry of Information definitely closes on 31st December. I should like a clear year to devote myself entirely to Overseas Club and E.-S.U. before looking round to think of earning any money.

Sunday, 24 November, 1918.

I got £1,000 from Martin for the War Memorial on Friday--- £500 this year and £500 next, which is encouraging.

The E.-S..U. is going very strong, and if only I get a little time to devote to it I can make it a very big thing.

The idea of the American Section of the Foreign Office or rather of the Ministry of Information going to Crewe House, where Northcliffe's office was, has been approved. And I believe I am to be in charge for the next few months. I am not over keen as I rather fear there will be a lot of red tape at the F.O.

Saturday, 1 December, 1918.

During this transition period at the office I am working at the Overseas Club two or three hours daily which enables me to get into touch with everything.

I have had a very full week. On Thanksgiving Day I lunched at the "Pilgrims" and it was a great occasion with the Duke of Connaught in the chair. The two speeches were made by Lord Reading and Mr. James M. Beck, the American lawyer and politician. He is a wonderful orator and I never heard such a speech. He held us all spellbound. In the evening I took the American trade editors to dinner at the "Savoy" and then on afterwards to the American Officers' Club to hear Sir Eric Geddes talk about the Navy.

Mr. Taft has accepted the American Presidency of the E.-S.U. and it is going very strong.

Sunday, 8 December, 1918.

On Thursday evening the E.-S.U, entertained Mr. James M. Beck of New York to dinner and it was a very successful evening and he made a great speech. I took the chair and my remarks went off well and the audience was appreciative. I had Beck on my right and Skinner the American Consul-General on my left. Lord Bryce supported the toast.

My official future with the Foreign Office is still rather nebulous but I think I shall stick on for a month or two anyhow and see what happens.

John Dillon openly advocates an Irish Republic and I imagine Sinn Fein will win 60 seats, so that you will be having an exciting time. Till the Irish question is settled there will never he a complete understanding between America and ourselves, though how it is to be accomplished beats me.

Sunday, 15 December, 1918.

The religious editors returned from France on Wednesday and I arranged a Ministerial lunch in their honour on Thursday, which John Buchan and Sir Henry Newbolt attended. They had much enjoyed their time in France and go back to America on Saturday. On Thursday Francis Yeats-Brown came to breakfast. He arrived in London from Constantinople the previous day. I thought him looking very well and not nearly as starved as I had expected. (Letters to Parents.)

The chiefs of the allied and associated powers made their preparations for the Paris Conference, where a just peace was to be drawn up. Great war-leaders came to and fro. Early in December Londoners were enabled to acclaim the two Frenchmen primarily responsible for the combined victory. I watched Marshal Foch and Clemenceau drive down St. James's Street. Anticipation was in the atmosphere. Professors and pundits with schemes of European reconstruction prepared their dossiers. Wire-pullers in Whitehall who considered no lasting treaty could be drawn up without their help sought inclusion in the new "British army of occupation" destined for Paris. Only on this occasion the combatants---serious Foreign Office clerks and experts and lady secretaries---were armed with nothing more alarming than files, folders and foolscap. And maps. Maps with blue lines showing the future demarcations of Europe accompanied every delegation. Statesmen and their underlings talked learnedly of Memel, Transylvania, Danzig and Fiume, as if they had been familiar with these European dangerspots all their lives. Diplomatic correspondents explained to ordinary mortals why the first essential to a lasting peace was to satisfy Italian, Roumanian, Jugo-Slav, Polish, Czechoslovak, Greek or Arab aspirations.

I was particularly interested in the Arab cause because I had heard at first hand of the vital part which the British-supported Arab Force had played in hastening the Turkish débâcle. Eddie Winterton,(3) an Eton friend, told me he wanted me to meet T. E. Lawrence, the young archæologist who would "in future be regarded as one of the great figures of the war." He said he thought I could be helpful in introducing Lawrence to some of the powers in Fleet Street so that the British public should be correctly informed as to Arab hopes and of our promise to help forward the establishment of a great Arab State in the Middle-East---independent, but living on friendly terms with Great Britain.

One day I returned late from lunch as I had been ordering new clothes at my tailor's after twenty months in khaki. In my outer office I saw an unassuming-looking young man, waiting to see me. He was shown in.

"I am the fellow Winterton asked you to see."

I did not then remember very much about Winterton's friend. Let me see, he was the young archæologist who was digging in the Middle-East and got mixed up with the Arabs ? Oh, yes, I remembered now. He was the man about whom all sorts of rumours were floating round.

I looked at Lawrence. His eyes riveted my attention. They were the bluest I had ever seen. They seemed to be looking right through me to distant horizons. Despite his modest bearing, there was a dignity about Lawrence that compelled respect. He gave the impression that he would be equal to any emergency. I asked him to tell me why he cared so much about the proposed Arab State. It was a wonderful story he unfolded. He omitted all reference to the part he had played in the Arab Crusade. Only by degrees from brother officers, and above all from my friend Lowell Thomas, did I hear the fairy-like tale of the young Englishman, not yet out of his twenties, who had been the terror of Germans and Turks in Arabia and Syria, who had led hundreds of raids against them, and who possessed an uncanny power over the wild soldiers of the desert.

I saw Lawrence on many occasions during the post-war period, and I was able to introduce him to various newspaper friends. He wanted no publicity for himself, all he desired was that the Arab cause should be understood. Subsequent meetings only confirmed my first impressions. He was unlike any man I had ever met. I would never have dared to prophesy his future. Friends might implore him to place his great knowledge at the disposal of the Empire in its attempt to deal with eastern peoples, but they came up against a flint-like refusal. Great Britain had not carried out her pledges to the Arabs ; he would just withdraw from the arena. "T. E. Lawrence" was no more.

An impression of Lawrence given me by Lowell Thomas ---who subsequently told the wonderful story of the Arabian campaign night after night at Covent Garden Opera House under the auspices of the English-Speaking Union and to huge audiences throughout the English-speaking world---is appended:

At this moment, somewhere in London, hiding from a host of feminine admirers, reporters, book publishers, autograph fiends and every species of hero-worshipper, is a young man whose name will go down in history beside those of Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Clive, Charles Cordon, and all the other famous heroes of Great Britain's glorious past. His first line of defence against these would-be visitors is an Amazonian landlady who battles day and night to save her illustrious guest from his admirers. . . The young man is at present flying from one part of London to another, dressed in mufti, with a hat three sizes too large pulled down over his eyes, trying to escape from the fairer sex.

His name is Thomas E. Lawrence.

The Germans and Turks were so impressed with Lawrence's achievements in Arabia that they expressed their admiration and appreciation by offering rewards amounting to over one hundred thousand pounds on his head---dead or alive. But the wild sons of Ishmael regarded their quiet, fair-haired leader as a sort of supernatural being who had been sent from heaven to deliver them from their oppressors, and they wouldn't have betrayed him for all the gold in the fabled mines of King Solomon.

During the winter of 1917-1918, shortly after Allenby captured the Holy City, I met Lawrence on one of the narrow streets near the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. He was dressed in the garb of an Oriental ruler, and at his belt he carried the curved gold sword worn only by the direct descendants of the prophet Mohammed. Previous to that day I had heard nothing but wild rumours about him, and as no one either in Egypt or Palestine seemed to have any definite knowledge regarding him, I suspected that he was merely a myth.

From what I saw of him in the few days he remained in Jerusalem I became convinced that he was one of the outstanding figures of the War, and a little later Allenby consented to my joining Lawrence and the Arab army.

From personal observation and from the lips of a group of equally daring and adventurous British officers who were associated with him, I discovered that Lawrence had accomplished more toward unifying the peoples of Arabia than all of the sultans and emirs since the days of the Great Caliphs six hundred years ago.

His success was largely due to his genius for handling men, and his peculiar training, which made it possible for him to transform himself into an Arab.

Some years after the war, as I walked from the lift along the mosaic floor of the passage on the sixth floor at 87, Victoria Street to my fiat one evening, I saw in the distance a small man in uniform. When I reached the door I wondered what a private in the Air Force wanted with me. The figure turned round and smiled, those blue eyes looked through me again.

"Hello, Lawrence!"

"No, Shaw please, Lawrence is dead."

Since then nothing that I ever heard about Lawrence astonished me. If he had retired to a mountain fastness in the Himalayas or to the Falkland Islands so as to get away from his fellows to do some creative thinking, I would not have been surprised.

I have enjoyed few conversations as much as talks with Lawrence about the "Brown Dominions "---his way of expressing Canadian self-government as applied to Asia. It was a subject to which I had devoted much thought, and his views on the right policy for the British Empire to pursue in India and elsewhere in dealing with subject" peoples largely coincided with my own. If Lawrence's views had been listened to as regards Mesopotamia immediately after the Armistice, the British taxpayer would have been saved countless millions. I was convinced that he was right. Sooner or later the British Commonwealth would have to find a place for brown Dominions as partners.(4)

My only grudge against T. E. Shaw was his dislike of replying to letters, a habit he shared with other great men. Was it not Disraeli who said that if you leave letters unanswered long enough they answer themselves in due course ? It was no new trait in his character, as this typical missive will show:

Barton St.,           
19. 2. 19.

Dear Wrench,

Even the pathos of R.S.V.P. as the postscript in your letter of a fortnight ago was not strong enough to move me readily. The fact is, I am grown neglectful of my duty to the other people in the world, and my correspondence lies about like hayseed. Every reply is late and every reply apologetic. I'm getting mock-blunt-graceful at the business.

Will you lunch with me any day next week except Saturday?

Or any day this week, if there is any left of it? I'd call at your office, and we would look for some place near by. . . 

Yours sincerely,           
T. E. LAWRENCE.

T. E. Shaw was a much misunderstood man. The unseeing think that his dislike of publicity was a pose. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was among those leaders who have embarked upon some great enterprise in life with high hopes and enthusiasm. During the stirring years of their crusade they live from day to day. The mere task of carrying through their endeavour monopolises their thoughts. There is little time for introspection. When the task is accomplished there is inevitable reaction. The joy of achievement is unsatisfying. The bread has turned to stone. Was the effort worth while?

During the campaign in Arabia Lawrence was absorbed in his job. To outwit the moves of the German-Turkish staff was a task that admitted of little time for introspection. To help the ancient Arab race to throw off their shackles was a great cause. Lawrence took satisfaction in the thought that he had played a vital part in re-drawing the map in the Middle-East---in eliminating the Turk.

When the scene changed from the sun-scorched wastes of Northern Arabia to the couloirs of Paris hotels and the anterooms of conference-chambers, Lawrence tried to adapt himself to his new environment. He knew that he could still play a useful part in helping his Arab friends to realise their aspirations. The British Government had given their word, and although there were strong influences at work seeking to frustrate Arab hopes Lawrence still hoped to achieve success. Then followed disillusionment. Politicians and promises did not coalesce. In the lobbies of the Peace Conference Lawrence had nostalgia for the desert, for the company of men whose word was their bond. There was anguish in his soul. The pledges he had given were not to be redeemed. How could he face his Arab friends in future ? He determined to get away from his past. Once he had put on paper the record of the campaign, Lawrence would cease to exist as truly as if he had been killed by a Turkish bullet. He was a philosopher. He appraised the trappings of worldly office at their right value. He was not prepared to sell his soul for a mess of pottage. He wanted none of the baubles of this world now that his dream was shattered. He determined to start life again at the age of thirty with a clean slate There is no law against a man locking away his past in some secret place if he so desires. Why should the actor in a great epic be compelled to be at the mercy of social "lion hunters," of enterprising journalists, of autograph hunters ? Why should he not work out his destiny on his own lines?

He wrote to me in March, 1935:

Often I wish I had known at the beginning the weary lag that any sudden reputation brings. I should have refrained from doing even the little that I did; and now I would be left alone and able to live as I choose. To have news value is to have a tin can tied to one's tail.

Let us hope that before his tragic death he found the peace and contentment for which he so sorely longed.

AFTER the strenuous autumn of 1918, with its endless functions in honour of the American journalists and the emotion of the first days of peace, culminating in the "Hang the Kaiser Election,"(1) I went over to Ireland to see my family for the first time since my abortive attempt at Irish peace-making twenty months previously. I arrived in Ireland on 22 December, and the following day, on getting back from Dublin, where I had been interviewing some of the Sinn Fein leaders, I received an urgent message from George Mair(2) asking me to return to London at once to look after the large party of American journalists who were coming over to England with President Wilson. I therefore returned by the mail-boat on Christmas evening The next six days, till the President left, were as busy as any spent at the Ministry of information during the war. From morning to night I lived in a whirl of speech-making and glad-handshaking. It was one of the most stimulating episodes in my life. In my wildest dreams I had never expected to live to seethe ruler of the British Commonwealth talking to and laughing with the President of the United States of America in the heart of London, within a few yards of me, and to be myself in charge of an important job connected with the visit.

When President Wilson arrived in London I was standing in the reserved enclosure just behind the spot where the King greeted his distinguished guest at Charing Cross railway station. I append my account of the meeting written at the time:

St Stephen's Day, 26 December, 1918, will long be remembered as one of the landmarks in the history of the English-speaking world. It was an historic moment when President Wilson, the successor of George Washington, stepped on to the platform of Charing Cross railway station to be greeted by His Majesty King George V, the lineal descendant of George III. As I watched the two men shake hands and noted the warmth with which they greeted each other, I felt that history was being made before my eyes.

Two minutes later the King introduced Mr. Lloyd George to the President, and all eyes were focussed on the two leaders of the English-speaking Democracies . . . . All shades of political opinion on this side of the Atlantic were determined that the official head of the American Republic should receive such a welcome as was never before extended to any visitor to these shores. The cordiality and warmth of London's welcome to Mr. Wilson will long be remembered by those who saw it.

But the outstanding impression in my mind is the picture of that tall, smiling man talking animatedly to the little Welshman on the railway platform. Those two men, the leaders of the English-speaking world, are between them very largely moulding the destinies of mankind at the Peace Conference. It is gratifying to know from their lips how identical are the aims of our two peoples and how close is the spirit of co-operation which exists between us. How fervently can we all re-echo the prayer of the King in his speech of welcome that the same brotherly spirit which has animated Great Britain and America in the war may inspire and guide their united efforts to secure for the world an ordered freedom and an enduring peace."(3)

The American journalists---the leading newspaper reporters in the United States, and not to be confused with the parties of editors whom we had been welcoming at the Ministry of Information ---expected hectic days and they were not disappointed. When they managed to write their cables to their papers I do not know! Every moment of their time was filled up. I had to pilot them through the expectant crowds, waiting to welcome the President, in a procession of cars to Buckingham Palace, as the King expressed a wish to meet the American journalists at the outset of the visit. I drove with the first car. My duty was to stand near Their Majesties in the large reception room at Buckingham Palace and to introduce each individual, announcing in a clear voice the name of the paper with which he was connected. The gracious and unaffected manner in which the King received them made a deep impression on the visitors.

All who were looking for the establishment of a sane and stable world after the peace conference regarded Mr. Wilson very much as a deliverer of mankind. He represented to us Europeans the mouthpiece of the great American nation, that had emerged from the war practically unscathed and in a position of supreme economic strength. Early in 1919 I wrote:

 . . . He is speaking for the people of America---just the ordinary people like you and me. Indeed Mr. Wilson has been at some pains to explain that when he refers to the proceedings in Paris he alludes to the Nations of the world as opposed to the Governments of the world---a vastly different thing. It is from the people he derives his authority and it is to the people he is rendering an account of his stewardship. "When I sample myself," says the President, "I think I find that I am a typical American, and if I sample deep enough, and get down to what probably is the true stuff of the man, then I have hope that it is part of the stuff that is like the other fellows at home. And, therefore, probing deep in my heart and trying to see things that are right, without regard to the things that may be debated as expedient, I feel that I am interpreting the purpose and the thought of America."

The main thesis of Mr. Wilson's appeal was that "the arrangements of the present peace cannot stand for a generation unless they are guaranteed by the united forces of the civilised world." And it is for this reason above all others that he pleads with his fellow-citizens to give him the mandate of America at the Peace Conference. . Mr. Wilson is confident that he has interpreted the will of the United States "But I talk," he said, "as if there were any question. I have no more doubt of the verdict of America on this matter than I have doubt of the blood that is in me."(4)

When Mr. Wilson spoke like this we were certain he was on firm ground. The thought that the American people would repudiate their spokesman was to us unthinkable in 1919. In May, after a visit to Paris, I wrote:

French fears have been met by the pledge of President Wilson and Mr. Lloyd George on behalf of our two peoples, to come to the rescue of France in the event of an unprovoked attack by Germany. This alliance, guarantee---call it what you will---requires of course the endorsement of the Senate and of our own Houses of Parliament but it is hardly conceivable that either of the English-speaking peoples will withhold their approval.(5)

It was a red-letter day when I had the privilege, as Chairman of the English-Speaking Union, of introducing a small deputation of the Central Committee to the President at the American Embassy at Grosvenor Gardens. (6) The President had with him Mr. John W. Davis, Dr. Page's successor as Ambassador at the Court of St. James's, and since then dates a warm friendship. Mr. Davis is to-day the president of the English-Speaking Union of the United States. In the course of my remarks, I said:

The English-Speaking Union, which has headquarters in Philadelphia and London, has been founded in no narrow attitude of race-pride, in no spirit of hostility to any people. It does not aim at formal alliances, nor has it anything to say to the relationships of Governments. It is simply a movement to draw together in the bonds of comradeship the English-speaking peoples of the world. We realise that an effective League of Nations must have its foundations securely laid, and these foundations must be the heartiest co-operation and the most complete understanding, the most intimate knowledge of one another, between the English-speaking democracies. (7)

"The President listened to the address with keen interest and evident pleasure."(8) We then had a friendly and informal talk with him and Mr. Davis. Mr. Wilson wished us success in our efforts, and with a twinkle in his eye concluded by saying, "Just because we do speak the same language and can read each other's papers and what is said about us on the opposite side of the Atlantic, we should be very careful what we say about one another!"

We looked forward to the future with confidence. Alas, we did not reckon with the inevitable reaction in human affairs after moments of high endeavour. A dramatic event was the unveiling in the dining-room of No. 10 Downing Street by the President of the portrait of George Washington presented to the British Government by Lord and Lady Albemarle---probably in the room in which the treaty agreeing to the independence of the United States was acquiesced in by the British Government. Perhaps the greatest moment of the visit from my standpoint was when I drank to the toast of "The King and the President of the United States, who for the first time in history are on the same continent" at the farewell dinner to the American editors.

Extracts from my letters written at this period are appended:

Sunday, 5 January, 1919.

I have had two very friendly interviews with the Chief and he has given me a very nice tie pin with diamonds and three rubies for Xmas. His throat is rather bad so he has been ordered to spend the next ten weeks in the South of France. While he is away he wants me to organise a Fund to commemorate the work of the Dover Patrol and the co-operation existing during the war between the British, American and French Naval forces it is rather a bother having anything else to do, but as he wants me to do it I can't very well refuse.

On Monday evening we gave a farewell dinner to the American journalists with the President. Mr. H. A. L. Fisher, the Minister of Education, was in the chair, and Reading and Bryce both spoke and it went off very well. On Wednesday I lunched with my friend Doubleday of New York---Page's partner. He runs the World's Work and other papers in America. The following day I lunched with the secretary of the Atlantic Union and I am glad to say our amalgamation has taken place. That society was started in 1897 by Sir Walter Besant. It was founded when the German fleet attempted to seize Manila during the Spanish-American war. The British came to the assistance of the Americans and the Germans then withdrew.

Sunday, 4 January, 1919.

The next month is rather a critical one for the E.-S.U. till we see how our membership renewals are coming in. Our lease is just awaiting signature so we should soon be able to start about making arrangements for our new premises in Trafalgar Square.(9)

Sunday, 12 January, 1919.

I have had a very full week and on Tuesday went to see the new American Ambassador, whom I like greatly I am sure he will do well. He has got a very nice manner and is very approachable. On Monday I lunched with Sir Arthur Stanley, the Chairman of the Red Cross. They are thinking of publishing a magazine and want me to see to it for them. It is a job I would quite like and is very much on my own lines.

Sunday, 19 January, 1919.

I spent my first full week at the Overseas Club and you can't imagine what it feels like to be an absolutely free agent. I was officially discharged from the Army on Tuesday and am allowed to retain the rank of Major, and my arrangement with the Ministry of Information has also come to an end, so that for the next few months I shall be able to devote myself entirely to my own work. I also have no longer any official connection with the Daily Mail, which gives me a very nice independent feel.

Sunday, 26 January, 1919.

On Tuesday I went to see the Lord Mayor at the Mansion House about a scheme for presenting an address of farewell to the American troops in the United Kingdom.

Sunday, 2 February, 1919.

I am usually in bed by 9.30 and asleep by I always wake up at 5.0 and usually start my work then. This gives me two quiet hours before I get up.

I went to an Australian and New Zealand lunch on Monday to hear Conan Doyle speak and sat just opposite him. He is very full of spiritualism and had some "spirit" photos in his pocket. Running this Dover Patrol Fund has been rather a nuisance and has given me a lot of work, especially as it has not been doing very well, and I have been getting wires from the Chief. I really have not the time or inclination to do outside work and I only did it because the Chief asked me and I did not see how I could well refuse.

I can't tell you what it means to me to be my own master and not beholden to anyone and to feel that the Chief and Carmelite House have no power over me!

Sunday, 9 February, 1919.

On Tuesday I went out to Hendon to assist at the aeroplane presentation ceremony when we(10) gave 16 machines to the Canadian Government. You probably, saw the photo in the Daily Mirror. I drove back with Lord Londonderry who was very friendly and said nice things about you. I liked him very much.

On Wednesday Mr. Edward Harding, the man who organised British Day in New York, and his wife arrived and the Committee of the E.-S.U. gave them a lunch and the following day I got Cecil Harmsworth, who is Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs, to entertain Harding to lunch and despite the lack of waiters everything went off very well and he was much pleased.

Sunday, 16 February, 1919

On Wednesday the E.-S.U. had its amalgamation lunch with the Atlantic Union. We had 300 people present and Bryce in the chair, the only trouble was one could not hear him. I sat between Professor Gilbert Murray and Colonel Arthur Murray, Elibank's brother. I spoke for about seven minutes but they all said I was the one person they could hear and I think I stirred things up a bit. In the evening I dined with Campbell Stuart, who is just back from Paris and told me all the Peace Conference talk.

(Letters to Parents.)

In February, 1919, Geoffrey Dawson resigned the editorship of The Times. I had learnt the news of the impending change from Northcliffe's lips. He rang me up one day and said, "I am going to make Wickham Steed the new editor of The Times," and asked me what I thought of the appointment.(11) In my view Wickham Steed, who is a brilliant linguist, was probably the best-informed foreign correspondent in Europe and as foreign editor was without rival, but he had lived so much abroad that he did not possess the intimate touch with English political, university and public life essential to the editorship of The Times.

I was very sorry when Dawson resigned because I regarded him as the ideal editor for Printing House Square, He was a typical Englishman, the best product of Eton and Oxford, and his long residence in South Africa had knocked off the insularity of the untravelled Englishman. During the early years of their association Northcliffe and Dawson made an excellent combination. Dawson was progressive and yet not too progressive. He did not rush to extremes. He had balance and poise. He could act as a brake on his chief. He was entirely without personal ambition. The best traditions of The Times were safe in his hands. I well remember my first meeting with Dawson. It was at a week-end party at Northcliffe's in 1910. I was interested in meeting the South African correspondent of The Times---"one of Milner's young men." I watched him and Northcliffe walking up and down the huge lawn by the cedar tree at Sutton Place. On the Sunday evening Northcliffe said to me, "Evelyn, you have seen me talking to the future editor of The Times to-day." Northcliffe had been on the look-out for the ideal young man with good judgment and the right social position to succeed Buckle when the moment came to make a change. Northcliffe then knew Dawson but slightly. But he showed one of those flashes of intuitive genius which he sometimes displayed in selecting the right man for the right job on but slight acquaintance.

No doubt Geoffrey Dawson will tell the story of his years with Northcliffe some day. It was no secret that he found his position increasingly difficult towards the end of the war. In the first years Northcliffe left the editor of The Times comparative liberty of action, realising his own limitations. But as the war advanced Northcliffe lost his sense of proportion. Just as in the political field he saw himself as a supreme dictator of the Peace terms, or at least sharing the honours with Mr. Lloyd George, so at The Times he grew more and more assertive. The relations between proprietor and editor became strained. Northcliffe constantly interfered in the conduct of the paper. He wanted The Times to follow the Daily Mail's lead. When he decided to part company with Dawson he suggested that the latter should resign on grounds of ill-health. But Dawson is not a Yorkshireman for nothing. When the situation became intolerable he resigned, but not for reasons of health.

As soon as the news was published I wrote a line to Dawson expressing my deep regret. I received this letter in reply

2, Smith Square,                       
Westminster, S.W.1.        
26 February, 1919.

My dear Evelyn,

Thank you so much for your kind letter. I will tell you more about this change one of these days. Very likely I managed things badly, but there came a point at which no other course seemed decently possible.

Yours sincerely,                      
GEOFFREY DAWSON.

It was a great day for British journalism when John Astor acquired The Times on Northcliffe's death and offered the editorship to Geoffrey Dawson.

Sunday, 23 February, 1919.

The E.-S.U.'s Washington Birthday Dinner last night was a great success. We had a very good attendance and Winston took the chair and made the speech of the evening. Everyone enjoyed it very much and came up and congratulated me. The Press was there in full force. Altogether the E.-S.U. is going very strong. . . 

On Tuesday I went up to address the American Y.M.C.A. workers. . . 

On Friday Oliver Locker-Lampson gave a lecture at the O.-S.C. about his experiences in Russia with his armoured cars and it was most interesting. He gave one an extraordinary idea of the absolute rout which took place among the Russians on the eastern front before they dropped out of the war.

Sunday, 2 March, 1919.

I had a nice message from the Chief thanking me for running the Dover Patrol Memorial Fund(12) for him. I think they will have £30,000 this week and I am glad to say that after 15 March I shall not have to bother any more about it. Just when I was very busy with my own affairs it was a great drag having to write it up every day in the Daily Mail.

On Wednesday I got the Government to give a lunch in honour of my American friend Doubleday. We are thinking of trying to get Taft to come over here, though whether he will I don't know.

Sunday, 9 March, 1919.

In America there is a great annual series of conferences in the summer throughout the country, called the Chatauqua Conferences. They get European lecturers over to talk to big meetings. A deputation came to ask me to go, all expenses paid and a 2 months' tour lecturing in a different place each night! I know what travelling in July and August in the hot weather is and I don't relish the prospect, so I shan't accept. Anyhow it was gratifying.

Sunday, 16 March, 1919.

I so utterly agree with what you, Mother, say about America going "dry." Every night I watch the drunken people reeling out of the Public House opposite and all the Government keeps doing is to remove restrictions. I am afraid we are a long way behind America in this matter. But we are a slow people to move. Anyhow, I hope to live to see this country go "dry" as well,(13)

The E.-S.U, is going to have a Memorial Service at Westminster Abbey on 4 April to the memory of all the American soldiers and sailors who have fallen in the war. Dr. Cobb and I went round on Friday to arrange details with the Dean.

Sunday, 23 March, 1919

On Wednesday Sir Arthur Stanley of the British Red Cross asked me to come and see him with reference to helping them to make known their future plans.

Norman Angell dined with me on Friday and I was so glad to see him again after three years. He has been in America all this time and is now helping to start the new Labour paper the Daily Herald. He was full of information and I greatly enjoyed meeting him again. . .

Sunday 30 March 1919.

On Monday I lunched with Sir Arthur Stanley at St. Thomas's Hospital, of which he is treasurer, to discuss his Red Cross scheme. He has asked me to go down this week to Cannes, in an honorary capacity but with my hotel expenses paid, to the Conference of the Red Cross Societies. He wants me to act as liaison officer and send daily cables to The Times and Daily Mail, which Northcliffe has arranged to put in. . .

On Wednesday we had our first O.-S.C. monthly lunch, when we entertained Sir John Monash.

Mrs. Waldorf Astor(14) asked me to go round to see her on Friday night and we are working out a scheme to entertain these American soldier students who are over here. So altogether it has been a full week.

Even if the Ministry of Information was closed I tried as far as finances would permit to carry on its functions through my two organisations---in the case of the Empire through the Overseas League and in the case of the United States through the English-Speaking Union.

My major activities during these first months of peace, while there were still large numbers of American troops in Europe, were the organising of a Memorial Service at Westminster Abbey to the American dead in the war, by permission of the Dean and Chapter, and the preparation of an address of farewell to the American troops signed by the Lord Mayor of London and the Mayors and Provosts of the chief cities where American troops had been quartered during the war.(15) Two months after the presentation I received this letter from General Pershing:

My dear Mr. Wrench,

I have examined with interest the illuminated address to the people of the United States of America which was prepared by the English-Speaking Union and which you forwarded to me in your letter of 15 December. It is, indeed, a beautiful and interesting document and one which will make all Americans proud of their British cousins. To my mind you are accomplishing as important a piece of work for progress and the world's peace as any one movement to-day. I am firmly convinced that if the English-speaking peoples of the world get to fully understand each other and gain that mutual respect and cordial relations which come with full understanding the future peace of the world is assured as it can be in no other way.

Yours very sincerely           
JOHN J. PERSHING.

I helped Dr. Geikie Cobb, of the Church of St. Ethelburga the Virgin in Bishopsgate Street, to collect funds to erect a window to the memory of Henry Hudson the navigator in this church, his son and ten other members of his crew on the 19 April, 1607, "did communicate with the rest of the parishioners, these persons, seamen, purposing to go to sea four days after, for to discover a passage by the North Pole to Japan and China." I also proposed, in October, 1918, that a suitable memorial "to the great work of Mr. Page should take the form of a centre where the visitor from across the Atlantic would be made to feel at home," an idea that was partially realised when the English-Speaking Union moved to Trafalgar Square in 1920, and finally materialised when we acquired Dartmouth House in 1927.

To me the year 1919 will always be the year in which we took leave of General Pershing, Admiral Sims and the armed forces of the United States and mutually resolved to co-operate henceforth together for the welfare of mankind. Although we were saying good-bye to the American Forces, I was convinced that sooner or later there would be the closest co-operation between the American and British Navies.

It was a sorrow to me that owing to the Cannes Red Cross Conference I could not be present in Westminster Abbey the shrine of the English-speaking race at the great final tribute to the United States dead. It was a moving occasion, and the Dean of Westminster summed up the hopes and feelings of all in the Abbey : "Their deaths have sealed the unwritten but inviolable covenant of our common brotherhood. Their deaths have laid the enduring foundations of the world's hope for future peace."

WHEN Sir Arthur Stanley, Chairman of the British Red Cross asked me to attend the Conference of Allied Red Cross Societies at Cannes and to take charge of the publicity from the British standpoint I readily accepted. After the long break without a proper holiday and the continuous work at high pressure I was getting stale both physically and mentally. I badly needed the tonic of changed environment. My expenses would be paid---no small consideration in those days---and the job would be interesting and would enable me to witness at close quarters British-American cooperation for the benefit of humanity. During the war I had met Arthur Stanley on various occasions in connection with my overseas Red Cross work and I had a great admiration for him. He had risen triumphantly over ill-health and devoted his life to public service. His work had latterly brought him in close touch with the American Red Cross organisation and we shared an enthusiasm for the cause of English-speaking cooperation.

The initiative in calling the conference of the Red Cross Societies in allied countries was taken by Mr. Henry P. Davison, a partner in the firm of J. P. Morgan & Co. of New York, and the conception of the scheme was primarily American. In the first flush of victory the United States was playing the rôle of Good Samaritan to Europe. American money was being poured into the task of rehabilitation and reconstruction of the stricken continent. Even if America declined the mandate for Armenia and subsequently refused to join the League of Nations she poured forth material aid in response to the heart-breaking appeals of Central and Eastern Europe. As late as the spring of 1920 she was still feeding two and a half million children between the Baltic and the Black Sea. Europe, in criticising America's isolationist policy, is apt to forget American charity after the war.

The printed matter of the Cannes Conference thus proclaimed its purpose : "To formulate and to propose to the Red Cross Societies of the world an extended programme of Red Cross activities in the interests of humanity." The leaders of the Red Cross in Great Britain and the United States were anxious that the combined societies should in peace time become a great movement for promoting the health of the people of the world, for fighting tuberculosis, venereal disease, typhus (then raging in Russia), and for carrying on a world-wide infant welfare campaign. What humanity needed, as one speaker put it, was a "Health Conscience." The intention was ultimately to include the Red Cross Societies of the ex-enemy countries in the work; but for the moment the conference was composed of representatives from the United States, the British Empire, France, Italy and Japan. Before leaving London, Arthur Stanley introduced me to my American colleague at the Conference---Ivy Lee, who was ultimately responsible for telling the American public of the Red Cross activities.

My first journey to Paris in a world of peace was almost a novel sensation. I had crossed the Channel so frequently during the war years that I could hardly remember pre-war conditions. My mind recalled patrolling destroyers and mine-sweepers, endless passport formalities, being searched for letters, and above all fellow passengers in khaki. My chief memory was of those thousands on the way back from "Blighty ". I wondered how many of my war-time fellow-passengers had never returned.

The war was already becoming history, so rapidly does man adjust himself to changed conditions; but floating mines were still being picked up in the Channel, a fact that recalled how recent was Armageddon. Boulogne was still a British town and every second person was in khaki. The chief change was that there was no longer a constant stream of wounded coming down from the front, nor Red Cross trains in the sidings. The Paris express was almost entirely composed of German rolling stock. Everywhere in France in the spring of 1919 German railway carriages and goods wagons were to be seen-part of the equipment Germany had been forced to surrender at Abbeville, Amiens and elsewhere by Marshal Foch's armistice terms. All the way to Paris German prisoners were engaged in constructional work, repairing the ravages of war. From the windows of the corridor of the packed Paris train Britons, Americans and French looked out at the long line of trenches and dugouts in the chalky hills near Montdidier. Officers still in uniform were pointing out ruined houses, farms and shell craters, every outline of which was stamped on their memory. I wrote during my visit:

 . . . On both sides of the track the ruined and shattered houses and the shell-holes bear witness to the German onslaught which was being stemmed in those fateful days this time last year. I looked out of the railway carriage and reflected on the extraordinary events of the past year. A French ploughman without one arm was skilfully driving his horses and managing his plough, hard at work preparing the soil for the summer crop. Almost before one's eyes traces of the smaller shell-holes were being obliterated.

Once one arrives in Paris, Tommy Atkins no longer holds sway, and the "doughboy" takes his place. Indeed in Paris I saw more "doughboys " than poilus It is no exaggeration to say that the American army is in complete possession of central and southern France, and although the "doughboy" is longing to get "back home" he is putting up with his present situation with complete good humour.

Hotel des Deux Mondes,             
Avenue de l'Opéra, Paris.     
2 April, 1919.

We arrived at Paris punctually ; there was a Red Cross man in a motor-car waiting for me. The chief thing that struck me about the Boulevards this visit was the number of American officers walking about with Parisiennes! In the afternoon I went to see George Mair at the British Mission. They will arrange for my visit to the "Front" and anything I want to see. I lunched with my American Red Cross friends. (Letter.)

Paris in the spring of 1919 was an American town. There seemed at least ten Americans to every Englishman and I wondered how the French liked the peaceful occupation of their capital by Anglo-Saxondom, though no doubt it was good for business! During my visit I heard the latest Peace Conference gossip from friends attached to the British Delegation, among them George Mair and Sir George Riddell.(1) Apparently things were by no means plain sailing and the "Big Four" were being sharply criticised for delays and dilly-dallying. Clemenceau knew what he wanted and was determined to get it, while Lloyd George and Wilson had had several "scraps"---in fact Wilson, whom his enemies accused of having the mentality of a small-town, unyielding Methodist Minister, "was being difficult." I sympathised with Wilson, for reports were reaching me from American friends that opposition to his proposals was growing in the United States. As for Signor Orlando, I heard his name but rarely, although I was told Italy was disgruntled and was not satisfied with her slice of the melon.

Close at hand the peace delegates did not seem such farsighted statesmen as they had from London. In some ways I was glad that I had not applied for a post in Paris during the Conference. A close-up of the negotiations would have been disillusioning. All this manœuvring for position and wire-pulling behind the scenes was distasteful if inevitable. In January I had written thus of the Peace Conference:

The Peace Conference delegates have assembled and the eyes of humanity are turned to Paris. Never have human beings been confronted with such problems as will be discussed in Paris during the next few months. Never was there greater need for long views, for strong action based on the highest ideals, and for a determination to adopt no selfish attitude, to indulge in no petty spirit of revenge if a lasting peace is to be restored to the world . . . . All nations must rise to the great occasion. Let us take to heart the wise reply Lord Castlereagh made to Lord Liverpool a hundred years ago. "It is not our business," the great statesman said, "to collect trophies, but to try if we can bring back the world to peaceful habits."(2)

A month later, just before my Paris visit, I wrote:

It would be futile to deny that elements of friction have not been wanting and that the reactionary forces, whose outlook has not changed materially from that of our grandfathers at the Congress of Vienna, have done their best to uphold the traditions of old-time diplomacy. When one considers the difficulties of establishing a League of Nations, the only cause for wonder must surely be that such splendid headway has been made. The League of Nations no longer belongs to the realm of ideas. The Peace Conference at Paris is becoming more and more an international tribunal of World-powers, concerning which statesmen have dreamed dreams since the time of Henry of Navarre and William Penn.(3)

But during my visit to France in April I had other things to think of and I soon was plunged into the interesting work of the Red Cross Conference at Cannes. From the Riviera I wrote:

Three days before I left London we experienced the heaviest snowfall of the winter, and I woke up to find five or six inches of snow in Victoria Street. Five days later I looked out of my wagonlit window to a world bathed in sunshine. Spring was in possession of this fair land with its olive trees and cypresses and Italian-looking towns clustering on the hillsides.

At every wayside station you see the "doughboy" reading Stars and Stripes, or the American edition of the Paris Daily Mail. The Riviera has become an American playground, and Cannes, Nice and Monte Carlo are towns of khaki---and the khaki is that of the "doughboy," for the Côte d'Azur has been made a leave-centre by the American army authorities.

I could not help wishing that it had been possible to arrange for more of the American army to have had leave in Great Britain during the War, so that the American soldier might have had a better chance of getting to know his British cousin.(4)

From the moment of my arrival at Cannes on 3 April I was suddenly immersed in the daily task of sending long cables to The Times and the Daily Mail. This was the first and only occasion on which I have acted as a special correspondent for The Times.

The following are extracts from letters written during my stay in the South of France:

3 April. In train, stopping at Toulon. The sun is shining and there is a feeling of spring in the air. We are just approaching the Mediterranean, masses of fruit trees are in blossom and the hillsides are carpeted with wild flowers.

Later, Carlton Hotel, Cannes. This is a huge hotel on the promenade and I have a lovely room and my own bathroom and I have large French windows looking out to sea and a nice writing table by the window. This is my first experience of an International Conference. It is really rather fun.

 

4 April. My window is wide open and the sea is swishing all the time and there is such a view of the bay! I worked till 7.30 then dined with my American friends. Ivy Lee has two rooms adjoining mine and wants me to have breakfast with him every morning.

I have been on the go all day. From 10 till lunch time I was in the Conference room. This means much harder work than I realised. I lunched with two Americans and Truby King. After lunch till 4.15 I was writing out my copy for my cable about the Red Cross, then I went for a walk. The Conference is very interesting, but after all the emotions of the last few years I don't feel much energy left to throw myself into a new thing.

 

Carlton Hotel, Cannes, 5 April. Dined with my friend Hereford, who is in charge of publicity for the American Red Cross under Ivy Lee. I always breakfast with the latter, we usually have two eggs and a good helping of cherry jam! There are certainly no war-time restrictions here. I was at the Conference from 10 till lunch-time and it was a very interesting day and I felt more at home and I was pleased as I had wired to Northcliffe asking for The Times and the Daily Mail to devote more space and he wired back nicely saying he would see to it. I showed the wire to Henry P. Davison, head of the American Red Cross, and he was delighted. Lunched with Truby King who made a great speech this morning. From 2 to 5 I was writing out my telegrams, about twelve pages of foolscap for The Times, Daily Mail and Reuter's. As it was on Infant Welfare, I got it all carefully corrected by Truby King. I have been much happier in my work to-day and although it is strenuous I don't mind as long as it brings results. Dined at a table with six of the professors and they were very friendly.

 

6 April. It was a beautiful day with cloudless blue sky and not too hot. The whole party of us, about fifty, went out in twenty motors at 9.30 as guests of Henry P. Davison. I was in the car with Truby King and Hereford and an Englishman called Harrison who is a great authority on venereal disease. We went along the coast through Nice to Monte Carlo where we lunched at the Hotel de Paris.

In the distance snow-clad Alps and fruit trees looking lovely. After lunch to the Casino with the whole party where I saw Rothermere for two minutes; I lost three pounds which is not too serious! Then at 2.30 we set out on the return journey of eighty miles. It was rather dusty but I have just had a hot bath.

From Monte Carlo we went to Mentone, past the hotel where I stayed in 1911, and then up by the mountain road to Sospel.

When we stopped I picked grape hyacinths by the roadside, primroses and mauve anemones.

 

7 April. The daily routine. Breakfast 8.30 sharp in Ivy Lee's room. 9-10 looking through papers and preparing for the day's work; to 1 Conference room, 1 to 2 lunch, 2 to 5.30 writing out cables. The Conference has been anything but a rest cure. To-day's discussion was very interesting. I found my shorthand, faulty though it is, very helpful for taking down the speeches. I sent a column-and-a-half to The Times in addition to half-a-column to the Daily Mail.

 

8 April. I dined last night with eight of the men at the Conference. They were all very friendly and only too ready to help and they know that the publicity the Conference gets in the British Press depends on me. Just when I was writing in bed this morning at 7.30 and I thought I was going to have forty undisturbed minutes, in came my friend Truby King. He is an extraordinary little person and amuses me greatly but I did not want to be disturbed then, but he is a real genius and I like him very much He walked up and down the room talking infant welfare to me.

Later. I was hard at work from 9.30 till 1. The discussion to-day was Child Welfare. After lunch I got hold of a typist and was able to dictate my "copy" which made an enormous difference. Truby King is always coming into my room at all sorts of odd hours! It is Infant Welfare, morning, noon and night!

 

9 April. Last night I dined with eight of the Americans and enrolled six of them as members of the English-Speaking Union. My first three-quarters of a column report in The Times appeared in Monday's edition and the delegates were very pleased with it. This morning we discussed malaria and nursing. I have now got an excellent typist, it makes a great difference and as a result I get through a tremendous lot by 5 o'clock, when I go and have tea at Rumpelmeyer's and then for an hour's walk. I find it rather difficult to get exercise. I had a nice letter from the American authorities to-day saying if there was any part of the American front I wished to visit I should be able to do so.

Had a long talk with one of the chief delegates the other day about continence in men. His views are not as ideal as I should have expected and he does not think continence natural and talked about tom-cats ! On the other hand two other men in the Conference think that the only way to fight Venereal Disease is to set up an altogether fresh standard for men.

As relaxation from the Conference I have been reading a book in French on Carlyle and Emerson's correspondence. (Letters.)

It was a curious situation suddenly, finding myself living in a world of doctors---many of them men with an international reputation---and being treated by them almost as one of themselves. During my stay at Cannes every meal was taken with the medical delegates and after dinner in the friendly atmosphere of the lounge we discussed all manner of problems. In particular I recall one heated argument on the subject of continence in men in which I found myself crossing swords with a well-known doctor, who adopted the man-of-the-world attitude. "What could you expect of healthy men?" "Men weren't angels and provided they took precautions what did it matter?" "Repressed sex was a dangerous thing and men must have a regular outlet."

When I put my point of view I was happy to find my worldly-wise friend---who probably had only spoken as he had, to draw me out---was in the minority. The majority agreed that every means should be taken to explain to a young man that there are two sides to his nature---the spiritual and the physical. That his sexual longings were given him so that he could express perfect love with the three strands of his being, spirit, mind and body. In the meantime the physical side of his nature would be clamorous. He must therefore take regular exercise and fill his mind with healthy interests. The age-long struggle for mastery between the forces of light and darkness is being fought out in him.

I found that many scientists and professors with a world reputation were idealists and agreed that in the new world to which we looked forward there would have to be new standards of morality ; that prostitution, the bane of civilisation, would never be stopped till men learned to control themselves and realised that continence was not deleterious to health.

If ever a conference was dominated by one man it was this Conference. Henry P. Davison was the life and soul of the gathering. He made an admirable chairman and his practical idealism swept all before it. I wished that some of my left-wing friends who were always calling down curses on Wall Street could have seen this millionaire-banker, who started life as a school teacher, throw his great abilities into the task of forming a League of Red Cross Societies.(5) Davison's conception had for its purpose "turning the light of science and the warmth of human sympathy into every corner of the world." He was a great organiser and under his direction the membership of the American Red Cross grew from 486,000 to 22,000,000. He was also a firm believer in the mission of the English-speaking peoples to lead humanity towards a better world.

I was brought into intimate daily contact with Ivy Lee. We worked together we played together. As we breakfasted each morning in his room we discussed the plans of the day. Like Northcliffe he understood to a supreme degree placing facts in a palatable form before the public. There was a strong streak of idealism in Ivy. I sometimes feared that in his exacting business it would become partially submerged. He had a lucid mind, an intellect of an exceptional order and a great capacity for summing up the pros and cons of a political situation. He was much interested in my experiences at the Ministry of Information. We discussed the most effective method of enlisting public support for worth-while causes.

Ivy Lee filled a unique position in the business life of the United States. He was termed by the outside world "Business publicity agent" or "Press agent" but there was really no satisfactory designation for his job. At a Congressional enquiry last year, in response to the question "What is the difference between the vocation you follow and that of the publicity agent?" Ivy Lee said, "I don't know, sir, I have never been able to find a satisfactory phrase to describe what I try to do." He once thus described his work for his clients "Placing their affairs before the public in the most favourable light."

Ivy Lee was called "the man who made Rockefeller loved." Among his clients in recent years were said to be the Soviet and Nazi Governments, and he was adviser on public relations to the Pennsylvania Railroad, the American Red Cross, the Guggenheim interests and the International Sugar Council. When he died last autumn one of the leading American newspapers referred to Ivy Lee as

the man who stripped American press-agentry of the blatant vulgarity into which Barnum had plunged it . . . . The business of hired praise this man raised to a new level of subtlety and discretion. He proved that taste, the soft word and understatement, may be invaluable assets to a press-agent, at least on the higher levels.

The Conference gave me a new outlook on world affairs. It taught me how the march of human progress might be expedited by the co-operation of all nations. It brought home to me as never before that patriotism was not enough. The ultimate aim must be the welfare of mankind. It was a rare privilege day by day to rub shoulders with men who were fighting disease in the clinics of the world. Among those whom I met and talked with were: Professor Roux, of the Pasteur Institute, and Sir Ronald Ross, who advocated the spreading of health knowledge by the Red Cross organisations throughout the globe; Sir F. Truby King, who urged the need of interpreting health facts in a way that was interesting to the community as a whole; Colonel Harrison (R.A.M.C.), who urged "improved environment and increased home comforts" as the best way of fighting venereal disease; Sir Arthur Newsholme, who claimed that the child was not a national but an international possession, and pleaded for a worldwide child life-saving campaign; Dr. William H. Welch of John Hopkins University, who proposed that the Red Cross Societies should undertake an active campaign against typhus, then raging in the countries round the Black Sea; and, finally, Henry Morgenthau, former United States Ambassador to Turkey, who expressed the hope of all those present that the joint Red Cross campaign would do for the health of humanity what the League of Nations was doing for a better world.

9 April. The Conference has been considering the outbreak of typhus fever which has taken place in Poland and Russia and the idea is that it would be a good thing if they could help to fight it. Typhus is carried by lice and the best way to prevent its spreading is to spray the people with petrol. I dined at our round table and we had an interesting talk about international affairs. We are all going back to Paris on Monday.

Ivy Lee suggested our motoring to Monte Carlo and spending the night there as it will be our last chance. It was a gorgeous day and we went by the Upper Corniche road with wonderful views and there were many wild flowers. We lunched at the Hotel de Paris. I was rather amused watching a young married couple at the tables. They criticized each other's play: he wanted to come away, but she would not for a little time. In the meantime she won, so apparently she was justified! There was a full column of my stuff in both Thursday and Friday's Times so Sir Arthur Stanley should be very pleased. (Letter.)

I wrote in The Landmark:

A visit to Monte Carlo after an absence of five years brought home the changed conditions in which we live. The glorious sunshine, the blossom of the trees and the sparkling Mediterranean were unchanged, but the old habitués of "Monte" have, temporarily anyhow, given place to the "doughboy"---on the terrace, in the gardens, at the Café de Paris, in the shops, everywhere you find him. Inside the doors of the Casino alone he or any other officer or soldier may not enter. Here the motley crowds of gamblers of yore are still to be seen, the only difference being the absence of the large numbers of Teutonic and Russian visitors of previous days. But the American "doughboy" did not have things entirely to himself, for as I stood on the steps of the Hotel de Paris several cars full of British, Australian, New Zealand and Canadian soldiers drove up. Five years ago how few foresaw what has happened, and which of us could have imagined a Monte Carlo invaded by Anglo-Saxons in khaki from the far seas

 

11 April. At last night Ivy Lee took me to dine at the Sporting Club at Monte Carlo. He had a Rolls-Royce placed at our disposal by the American Red Cross and it only took us an hour and twenty minutes to go from Cannes to Monte. I quite enjoyed two hours of "life." I came out all square. We only got back to Cannes at 2 o'clock. It was a lovely night but the car went much faster than I like. Feeling rather sleepy this morning I thought I was going to have a nice quiet time when Truby King appeared on the scene at 7.30 and sat on my bed for three-quarters of an hour. He is a real oddity, but I do like him.

It is such a gorgeous day with a sparkling sea of wonderful vivid blue and green and an intoxicating feel in the air. I don't relish the thought of the Conference room all morning! One ought to be on a holiday and just going off in a little sailing-boat to the island. I am glad to say my cables have been going splendidly; had nearly a column in The Times and half-a-column in the Daily Mail. Everybody was pleased with the result and congratulated me. (Letter.)

 

Sunday, 13 April. It has been a very full week. I am glad that the conference is over as it was quite a strain. It sat all morning from 10 till 1 and I had to depend on my notes for the reports you saw in The Times. I found my shorthand coming back to me and I don't know what I would have done without it. The conferences on Malaria, Tuberculosis and Child Welfare were very interesting and so was watching all the various personalities.

Truby King compared very favourably with any of them and I should say he was one of the chief thinkers there. I thought Ronald Ross rather forbidding in his manner.

The weather has been perfectly wonderful, sparkling seas and blue skies and brilliant sunshine, practically the whole time. My only sorrow has been that 1 have been cooped up so much and have only had an hour out of doors most days. To-morrow we all return to Paris where I hope to see Arthur Stanley and I am certainly going to have a few days at the front on my way back, the Americans, Australians, and Canadians have all invited me. Also, I hope to go down for a few days to St. Jean de Luz, as after all the rush here I shall like the quiet there and it will be nice being able to help Hylda with Aunt Alice, as of course being there in that empty house, now that Kathleen is gone, is very hard for her.

Truby King has been most entertaining and wanders up into my room, fully dressed at 7 a.m. and sits on my bed to tell me of the iniquities of the medical profession in England! They all went off two days ago to see a sun-cure hospital for tubercular children near San Raphael. I believe the results are quite extraordinary and the children bathe and go about almost naked. (Letter to Parents.)