he Germans (likely enough); that it was a monarchical movement and
that the Germans were going to put the King back on the throne as
soon as the war ended. Sensation-mongers appear at every
old-woman's knitting circle. And all this has an effect on conduct.
Two young wives of noble officers now in France have just run away
with two other young noblemen--to the scandal of a large part of
good society in London. It is universally said that the morals of
more hitherto good people are wrecked by the strain put upon women
by the absence of their husbands than was ever before heard of.
Everybody is overworked. Fewer people are literally truthful than
ever before. Men and women break down and fall out of working ranks
continuously. The number of men in the government who have
disappeared from public view is amazing, the number that would like
to disappear is still greater--from sheer overstrain. The Prime
Minister is tired. Bonar Law in a long conference that Crosby and
I had with him yesterday wearily ran all round a circle rather than
hit a plain proposition with a clear decision. Mr. Balfour has kept
his house from overwork a few days every recent week. I lunched
with Mr. Asquith yesterday; even he seemed jaded; and Mrs. Asquith
assured me that "everything is going to the devil damned fast."
Some conspicuous men who have always been sober have taken to
drink. The very few public dinners that are held are served with
ostentatious meagreness to escape criticism. I attended one last
week at which there was no bread, no butter, no sugar served. All
of which doesn't mean that the world here is going to the bad--only
that it moves backward and forward by emotions; and this is
normally a most unemotional race. Overwork and the loss of Sons and
friends--the list of the lost grows--always make an abnormal
strain. The churches are fuller than ever before. So, too, are the
"parlours" of the fortune-tellers. So also the theatres--in the
effort to forget one's self. There are afternoon dances for young
officers at home on leave: the curtains are drawn and the music is
muffled. More marriages take place--blind and maimed, as well as
the young fellows just going to France--than were ever celebrated
in any year within men's memory. Verse-writing is rampant. I have
recei