, and
not till these ten days down here have I had time or chance or a
free mind to think them over; and now there's nothing in particular
to think--nothing but just to go on, doing these 40,000 things (and
they take a new turn every day) the best I can, without the
slightest regard to consequences. I've long ago passed the place
where, having acted squarely according to my best judgment, I can
afford to pay the slightest attention to what anybody thinks. I see
men thrown on the scrap heap every day. Many of them deserve it,
but a good many do not. In the abnormal state of mind that
everybody has, there are inevitable innocent misunderstandings,
which are as fatal as criminal mistakes. The diplomatic service is
peculiarly exposed to misunderstandings: and, take the whole
diplomatic service of all nations as shown up by this great strain,
it hasn't stood the test very well. I haven't the respect for it
that I had when I started. Yet, God knows, I have a keen sympathy
for it. I've seen some of 'em displaced; some of 'em lie down; some
of 'em die.

As I've got closer and closer to big men, as a rule they shrink up.
They are very much like the rest of us--many of 'em more so. Human
nature is stripped in these times of most of its disguises, and men
have to stand and be judged as a rule by their real qualities.
Among all the men in high place here, Sir Edward Grey stands out in
my mind bigger, not smaller, than he stood in the beginning. He's a
square, honourable gentleman, if there is one in this world. And it
is he, of course, with whom I have had all my troubles. It's been a
truly great experience to work and to quarrel with such a man.
We've kept the best friendship--a constantly ripening one. There
are others like him--only smaller.

Yet they are all in turn set upon by the press or public opinion
and hounded like criminals. They try (somebody tries) to drive 'em
out of office every once in a while. If there's anything I'm afraid
of, it's the newspapers. The correspondents are as thick as flies
in summer--all hunting sensations--especially the yellow American
press. I play the game with these fellows always squarely,
sometimes I fear indiscreetly. But what is discretion? That's the
hardest question of all. We have regular meetings. I tell 'em