The stories current of his praiseworthy curiosity about the places which he was busy distributing to the peoples whose destinies he was forging would be highly amusing if the subject were only a private individual and his motive a desire for useful information, but on the representative of a great Empire they shed a light in which the dignity of his country was necessarily affected and his own authority deplorably diminished.  For moral authority at that conjuncture was the sheet anchor of the principal delegates.  Although without a program, Mr. Lloyd George would appear to have had an instinctive feeling, if not a reasoned belief, that in matters of general policy his safest course would be to keep pace with the President of the United States.  For he took it for granted that Mr. Wilson’s views were identical with those of the American people.  One of his colleagues, endeavoring to dispel this illusion, said:  “Your province at this Conference is to lead.  Your colleagues, including Mr. Wilson, will follow.  You have the Empire behind you.  Voice its aspirations.  They coincide with those of the English-speaking peoples of the world.  Mr. Wilson has lost his elections, therefore he does not stand for as much as you imagine.  You have won your elections, so you are the spokesman of a vast community and the champion of a noble cause.  You can knead the Conference at your will.  Assert your will.  But even if you decide to act in harmony with the United States, that does not mean subordinating British interests to the President’s views, which are not those of the majority of his people.”  But Mr. Lloyd George, invincibly diffident—­if diffidence it be—­shrank from marching alone, and on certain questions which mattered much Mr. Wilson had his way.

One day there was an animated discussion in the twilight of the Paris conclave while the press was belauding the plenipotentiaries for their touching unanimity.  The debate lay between the United States as voiced by Mr. Wilson and Great Britain as represented by Mr. Lloyd George.  On the morrow, before the conversation was renewed, a colleague adjured the British Premier to stand firm, urging that his contention of the previous day was just in the abstract and beneficial to the Empire as well.  Mr. Lloyd George bowed to the force of these motives, but yielded to the greater force of Mr. Wilson’s resolve.  “Put it to the test,” urged the colleague.  “I dare not,” was the rejoinder.  “Wilson won’t brook it.  Already he threatens, if we do, to leave the Conference and return home.”  “Well then, let him.  If he did, we should be none the worse off for his absence.  But rest assured, he won’t go.  He cannot afford to return home empty-handed after his splendid promises to his countrymen and the world.”  Mr. Lloyd George insisted, however, and said, “But he will take his army away, too.”  “What!” exclaimed the tempter.  “His army?  Well, I only ...” but it would serve no useful purpose to quote the vigorous answer in full.