Walter Hines Page to Woodrow Wilson

This is the weariest Christmas in British annals certainly since the Napoleonic wars. The untoward events after the British advance towards Cambrai, for which six British Generals have been recalled, the danger that the Germans will get all that they need most from Russia men aplenty and later oil and ore and grain next year the uncertainty yet felt about Italy, the continued success of the submarines and the consequent doubt about the size of the army that we can maintain in France deepens the depression felt in London. I say "in London," because I am told, and I think truly, that waves of depression, like fogs, come oftener and deeper here than anywhere else in the Kingdom.

But the undue strain on British nerves is now intense. Real news is circulated chiefly by word of mouth, and the queerest imaginable stories, most of them depressing, are whispered about and find at least temporary credence. For instance, the report is going around that the recent revolution in Portugal was caused by German influence (likely enough) and that the Germans will restore the monarchy after the war. Sensation-mongers appear at every old woman's knitting circle. And this unnatural strain has an effect on private conduct. The divorce court is crowded. The wife of a noble officer now in France runs away with another young nobleman, to the scandal of the best society in London. Everybody is overworked. Men and women too break down and fall out of the working ranks continuously. The number of men who held public places that have disappeared from view is amazing, and the number who would like to disappear is still greater from sheer overstrain. The Prime Minister is tired and looks a good deal older than he looked a year ago; and he is said to be continuously afraid of "plots" against him. Bonar Law in a long conference that Crosby and I had with him a few years days ago sometimes days do seem like years wearily ran round a circle rather than hit a plain proposition with a clear decision. Balfour has kept his house a few days every recent week from overwork. Even Asquith seems jaded, and Mrs. Asquith, whose judgment is always wrong, assured me yesterday unblushingly that "everything is going to the devil damned fast", a speech that is as untrue as it is unladylike. Some conspicuous men hitherto of sober lives are said to have taken to drink. The very few public dinners that are given are served with ostentatious meagreness to escape criticism. I attended one last week at which there was no bread, no butter, no sugar served. Overwork and the loss of sons and husbands and friends the list grows always make a fog as dense as that which so darkens London today that the few men who go out have to feel their way along the streets. Yet men pray for its continuance because as soon as it lifts German aircraft will return till the moon becomes full and wanes. We had a two-hour battle about us and over us two nights ago and expect its repetition every clear night for 20 days. The churches are fuller than ever before. So, too, are the "parlours" of the fortune-tellers. So also the theatres in the effort to throw off weariness. There are afternoon dances for young officers at home on leave, behind closely drawn thick curtains and to muffled music. More couples are married the blind and maimed as well as the fresh young fellows just going to the war than ever before within men's memory. Verse writing is rampant. I have received enough sonnets and odes celebrating the Great Republic and its great President to fill a folio volume. All this strain has been too much for a number of American YMCA workers who have had to be sent home for rampant pacifist offences. Every sort of man is driven or drawn in the direction of his greatest weakness, with a constant increase, therefore, in the number of liars, pacifists, sensation-mongers, and despairers.

Yet I haven't the slightest fear of the waning of the British resolution. They'll hold on to the end. But I am a little weary of their constantly avowed complete dependence on us. For instance, Winston Churchill said to me the other day: "The French fighting strength will be gone some time next year. We can hold ours up the whole year. But after that we shall all have to depend chiefly on you." I had to remind him that we get no particular encouragement from compliments like this. It isn't inspiring merely to be leaned on. Churchill went on of course to swear that the British wd never quit on us quite truly. But I am sometimes annoyed at the way all Europe leans heavily on us.

_________The Lansdowne letter was used as an occasion to demand a clearer and simpler explanation of the aims of the war. I do not quite see how such a demand which itself is one evidence of a weary depression can be satisfied by thumbnail catch-phrases. Mr. Balfour, as I dare say you have read, declared in the House of Commons two nights ago that your recent speeches and letters were as able as any state papers produced in the whole history of the world. Everybody points to them as the preëminent formulation of war aims, and yet the cry continues here for some summary that the man in the street and the man in the trenches can understand. All this will pass with the New Year mood.

But there is one thing that I wish the British wd themselves say more plainly and concretely that the only way to security is to overthrow the German military autocracy, so as to show that this implies at least the unhorsing of the Emperor. I should not say positively that the dynastic principle prevents. But it has something to do with preventing a clear cry. Almost everywhere in Europe everywhere outside of France and Switzerland men seem yet unable to think of government without Kings. Something of the old divinity doth yet hedge them. Even in England there is a hesitancy to speak out plainly about crowned villains. The Tsar himself found much sympathy here in certain circles. The vague fear lest royalty here may come upon an evil day shows itself by irrelevant and unnecessary outbursts in praise of the king; and the argument is overworked that a throne be necessary to hold the Empire together why necessary, I cannot for the life of me see. This king isn't in danger provided we win. If we lose, he will lose.Incidentially this goes to prove how far behind almost all Europe is in its slow, slow, slow progress towards real freedom. I feel at times that this whole side of the world is not worth to us a tinker's dam. But of course I reserve the liberty in other moods & in happier times somewhat to modify this judgment! somewhat, but I fear I shall never wholly abandon it.

_________There are, dear Mr. President, far more cheerful facts than uncheerful ones. For instance, the u-boat catchers are becoming more efficient a most important piece of cheerful news. The balanced and calm Englishman retains his composure. And so do I. Nothing is so foolish as a prophecy. Yet I venture this: We shall win before next Christmas.