THE DINING GLADIATOR;
or, War to the Knife (and Fork).
(Being further Extracts from a certain Diary.)
II.
Wrote an even better article than ever, on indigestion as a determining factor in national moral. Pointed out how important it is, if we are to think coolly, that we should eat discreetly. Sufficiently, of course, but with thought.
At the Tribunal all the afternoon, busily combing out.
To the Hippodrome in the evening. A most diverting show.
Northcliffe is becoming impossible and I must find another paper. Several of my best commas cut out of to-day’s article. All reference to the necessity for immediately beheading Asquith omitted yesterday. Was comforted by lunch at the Carlton with Doris Keane, Gertie Millar and Scatters. We had some good jokes.
The news of my resignation from The Times has set my telephone ringing all the morning with congratulations, requests for interviews and offers of employment. Also some attractive invitations to dinner and week-ends. The War for the moment seems to be forgotten. Wonderful, the power of the printed word!
My first article in The Morning Post, distributing blame and praise with my usual deadly accuracy. Wonder what poor Northcliffe is doing without me.
Received long letter from Haig asking for instructions, which I sent by return.
Lunched at the Carlton with some charming musical-comedy actresses. To the Tribunal after. Dined at the National Sporting Club and saw a good fight.
A visit from an Italian personage of consequence, who told me that my articles are the talk of Italy. If writing could win wars, he said, my pen would have done it.
L. G. came up to Carryon Hall heavily masked. I gave him an excellent dinner and some equally good advice, and he left much heartened.
Dined at Lady Randolph’s. A merry crowd there. Every one very gay and amusing; but we forgot that Winston was our hostess’s son and castigated him badly. Lady Juliet said that with some people, no matter what they begin to talk about, even with Cabinet Ministers, it all comes back to food.
Wrote a careful article pointing out that we must have at least one hundred more divisions in the West before next Friday.
I was gratified to learn to-day that in consequence of my articles The Morning Post has doubled its circulation, while The Times hardly sells a copy.
Lunched with Massingham of The Nation, who eats more sensibly than he writes.
In Paris. Saw Clemenceau at the War Ministry. His table was littered with papers and reports, amongst which he pointed out laughingly one of my articles. I can’t think why he laughed. Lunched at Voisin’s.
Left for rapid tour of inspection to British H.Q. Found much to put right. Issued an Order of the Day to soldiers of all ranks. The Germans, hearing of my presence, made desperate attempts to bomb me, but failed. Food at the Front not very alluring.
Yesterday’s article, I learn, put the wind up the War Cabinet, and great things may result. All my pleasure spoilt, however, by breaking a tooth on a pellet in a Ritz grouse.
Visited the French H.Q. and was pleased with Foch, whom I asked to run over to Carryon when he was ever in any doubt. Sent home a powerful article which, when it is reproduced in all the French papers, as it will be, should encourage him and improve his position.
Dined at Lady Ridley’s. A very cheery party and much chaff. Mrs. Asquith said that she was writing her reminiscences. I made no mention of my diary, but if I don’t get it out in book form before hers I’m not the Colonel of the Nuts.
To-day’s article should bring things to a head very shortly. Shall be very glad when it is over and I can rest a little. Took some bicarbonate of soda.
Armistice signed. Spent the day in a kind of triumphal procession from restaurant to restaurant, at each of which I was hailed with applause.
Reached Versailles and let the news be known. A visible quickening up already to be noted.
Sent for President Wilson, but something must have prevented his coming. Lunched at Paillard’s and dined at Larue’s. Saw an amusing Palais Royal farce.
June 28th, 1920.—Treaty of Peace, for which I have worked so long, signed at last. Now I can utter my Nunc Dimittis, having accomplished the two ends I had in view—to bring the first world War to a more or less satisfactory finish and to make it dangerous for any but the deaf and dumb to dine out.
E. V. L.