f Lord Grey, a quiet
Englishman, whose statesmanship during those last ten murky days of
July, 1914, when he strove to avert the dreadful years that followed,
will shine bright and permanent. We must not be chilled by the doubters.
Especially is the scheme doubted in dear old Europe. Dear old Europe
is so old; we are so young; we cause her to smile. Yet it is not such a
contemptible thing to be young and innocent. Only, your innocence, while
it makes you an idealist, must not blind you to the facts. Your idea
must not rest upon sand. It must have a little rock to start with. The
nearest rock in sight is friendship between England and ourselves.

The will to friendship--or the will to hate? Which do you choose? Which
do you think is the best foundation for the League of Nations? Do you
imagine that so long as nations do not like each other, that mere words
of good intention, written on mere paper, are going to be enough? Write
down the words by all means, but see to it that behind your words there
shall exist actual good will. Discourage histories for children (and for
grown-ups too) which breed international dislike. Such exist among us
all. There is a recent one, written in England, that needs some changes.

Should an Englishman say to me:

"I have the will to friendship. Is there any particular thing which I
can do to help?" I should answer him:

"Just now, or in any days to come, should you be tempted to remind us
that we did not protest against the martyrdom of Belgium, that we were a
bit slow in coming into the war,--oh, don't utter that reproach! Go back
to your own past; look, for instance, at your guarantee to Denmark, at
Lord John Russell's words: 'Her Majesty could not see with indifference
a military occupation of Holstein'--and then see what England shirked;
and read that scathing sentence spoken to her ambassador in Russia:
'Then we may dismiss any idea that England will fight on a point of
honor.' We had made you no such guarantee. We were three thousand miles
away--how far was Denmark?

"And another thing. On August 6, 1919, when Britain's thanks to her land
and sea forces were moved in both houses of Parliament, the gentleman
who moved them in the House of Lords said something which, as it seems
to me, adds nothing to the tribute he had already paid so eloquently.
He had spoken of the greater incentive to courage which the French and
Belgians had, because their homes and soil were invaded, while Engl