It is a great thing to have won the war, but to have won it only at the
cost of more wars to come, and with the domestic problems of
statesmanship multiplied and intensified to a degree of the gravest
danger, this is an achievement which cannot move the lasting admiration
of the human race.

The truth is that Mr. Lloyd George has gradually lost in the world of
political makeshift his original enthusiasm for righteousness. He is not
a bad man to the exclusion of goodness; but he is not a good man to the
exclusion of badness. A woman who knows him well once described him to
me in these words: "He is clever, and he is stupid; truthful and
untruthful; pure and impure; good and wicked; wonderful and commonplace:
in a word, he is everything." I am quite sure that he is perfectly
sincere when he speaks of high aims and pure ambition; but I am equally
sure that it is a relief to him to speak with amusement of trickery,
cleverness, and the tolerances or the cynicisms of worldliness.

Something of the inward man may be seen in the outward. Mr. Lloyd
George--I hope I may be pardoned by the importance and interest of the
subject for pointing it out--is curiously formed. His head is unusually
large, and his broad shoulders and deep chest admirably match his quite
noble head; but below the waist he appears to dwindle away, his legs
seeming to bend under the weight of his body, so that he waddles rather
than walks, moving with a rolling gait which is rather like a seaman's.
He is, indeed, a giant mounted on a dwarf's legs.

So in like manner one may see in him a soul of eagle force striving to
rise above the earth on sparrow's wings.