London, September 26, 1915.

     DEAR MR. PRESIDENT: 

The suppression of facts about the military situation is more rigorous than ever since the military facts have become so discouraging.  The volume of pretty well authenticated news that I used to hear privately has become sensibly diminished.  Rumours that reach me by the back door, in all sorts of indirect ways, are not fewer, but fewer of them are credible.  There is great confusion, great fear, very great depression—­far greater, I think, than England has felt, certainly since the Napoleonic scare and probably since the threat of the Armada.  Nobody, I think, supposes that England herself will be conquered:  confidence in the navy is supreme.  But the fear of a practical defeat of the Allies on the continent is become general.  Russia may have to pay a huge indemnity, going far to reimburse Germany for the cost of the war; Belgium may be permanently held unless Germany receive an indemnity to evacuate, and her seaports may be held anyhow; the Germans may reach Constantinople before the Allies, and Germany may thus hold, when the war ends, an open way to the East; and France may have to pay a large sum to regain her northern territory now held by the Germans.  These are not the convictions of men here, but they have distinctly become the fears; and many men’s mind are beginning to adjust themselves to the possible end of the war, as a draw, with these results.  Of course such an end would be a real German victory and—­another war as soon as enough men grow up to fight it.

When the more cheerful part of public opinion, especially when any member of the Government, affects to laugh at these fears, the people say:  “Well, make known the facts that you base your hope on.  Precisely how many men have volunteered?  Is the voluntary system a success or has it reached its limit?  Precisely what is the situation in the Dardanelles?  Are the allied armies strong enough to make a big drive to break through the German line in France?  Have they big guns and ammunition enough?  What are the facts about the chance in the Dardanelles?  What have we done with reference to the Balkan States?” Thus an angry and ominous political situation is arising.  The censorship on war news apparently becomes severer, and the general fear spreads and deepens.  The air, of course, becomes heavily charged with such rumours as these:  that if the Government continue its policy of secrecy, Lloyd George will resign, seeing no hope of a real victory:  that, if he do resign, his resignation will disrupt the Government—­cause a sort of earthquake; that the Government will probably fall and Lloyd George will be asked to form another one, since he is, as the public sees it, the most active and efficient man in political life; that, if all the Balkan States fail the Allies, Sir Edward Grey will be reckoned a failure and must resign; and you even now hear talk of Mr.