ecisive or
cynical, was generally sufficient, a question, an unqualified
abandonment of his ministers, whose face would not be saved, or a
display of obstinacy reinforced by a few words in a piquantly delivered
English.[6] But speech and passion were not lacking when they were
wanted, and the sudden outburst of words, often followed by a fit of
deep coughing from the chest, produced their impression rather by force
and surprise than by persuasion.

Not infrequently Mr. Lloyd George, after delivering a speech in English,
would, during the period of its interpretation into French, cross the
hearthrug to the President to reinforce his case by some _ad hominem_
argument in private conversation, or to sound the ground for a
compromise,--and this would sometimes be the signal for a general
upheaval and disorder. The President's advisers would press round him, a
moment later the British experts would dribble across to learn the
result or see that all was well, and next the French would be there, a
little suspicious lest the others were arranging something behind them,
until all the room were on their feet and conversation was general in
both languages. My last and most vivid impression is of such a
scene--the President and the Prime Minister as the center of a surging
mob and a babel of sound, a welter of eager, impromptu compromises and
counter-compromises, all sound and fury signifying nothing, on what was
an unreal question anyhow, the great issues of the morning's meeting
forgotten and neglected; and Clemenceau silent and aloof on the
outskirts--for nothing which touched the security of France was
forward--throned, in his gray gloves, on the brocade chair, dry in soul
and empty of hope, very old and tired, but surveying the scene with a
cynical and almost impish air; and when at last silence was restored and
the company had returned to their places, it was to discover that he had
disappeared.

He felt about France what Pericles felt of Athens--unique value in her,
nothing else mattering; but his theory of politics was Bismarck's. He
had one illusion--France; and one disillusion--mankind, including
Frenchmen, and his colleagues not least. His principles for the peace
can be expressed simply. In the first place, he was a foremost believer
in the view of German psychology that the German understands and can
understand nothing but intimidation, that he is without generosity or
remorse in negotiation, that there is no advanta