think or do.  The more we talk about peace, the more they think about war.  There is no vindictiveness in the English.  They do not care to do hurt to the German people:  they regard them as misguided and misled.  But no power on earth can stop the British till the German military caste is broken—­that leadership which attacked Belgium and France and would destroy England.  Balfour, Lloyd George, the people, the army and the navy are at one in this matter, every labouring man, everybody, except a little handful of Quakers and professors and Noel Buxton.  I think I know and see all the peace men.  They feel that they can talk to me with safety.  They send me their pamphlets and documents.  I think that all of them have now become warlike but three, and one of them is a woman.  If you meet a woman you know on the street and express a sympathy on the loss of her second son, she will say to you, “Yes, he died in defence of his country.  My third son will go next week.  They all die to save us.”  Doubtless she sheds tears in private.  But her eyes are dry in public.  She has discarded her luxuries to put money in the war loan.  Say “Peace” to her?  She would insult you.

May 10, 1917.

We dined at Lambeth Palace.  There was Lord Morley, whom I had not seen since his long illness—­much reduced in flesh, and quite feeble and old-looking.  But his mind and speech were most alert.  He spoke of Cobden favouring the Confederate States because the constitution of the Confederacy provided for free trade.  But one day Bright informed Cobden that he was making the mistake of his life.  Thereafter Cobden came over to the Union side.  This, Morley heard direct from Bright.

The Archbishop spoke in high praise of Charnwood’s Lincoln—­was surprised at its excellence, etc.  Geoffrey Robinson[82] asked who wrote the Quarterly articles in favour of the Confederacy all through the war—­was it Lord Salisbury?  Nobody knew.

The widow of the former Archbishop Benson was there—­the mother of all the Bensons, Hugh, A.C., etc., etc.—­a remarkable old lady, who talked much in admiration of Balfour.

The Bishop of—­Winchester(?)—­was curious to know whether the people in the United States really understood the Irish question—­the two-nation, two-religion aspect of the case.  I had to say no!

There is an orphan asylum founded by some preceding Archbishop, by the sea.  The danger of bombardment raised the question of safety.  The Archbishop ordered all the children (40) to be sent to Lambeth Palace.  We dined in a small dining room:  “The children,” Mrs. Davidson explained, “have the big dining room.”  Each child has a lady as patroness or protector who “adopts” her, i.e., sees that she is looked after, etc.  Some of the ladies who now do this were themselves orphans!

At prayers as usual at 10 o’clock in the chapel where prayers have been held every night—­for how many centuries?