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Title: Woodrow Wilson as I Know Him

Author: Joseph P. Tumulty

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WOODROW WILSON AS I KNOW HIM

BY

JOSEPH P. TUMULTY







To the memory of my dear mother Alicia Tumulty whose spirit of generosity,
loyalty, and tolerance I trust will be found in the lines of this book




ACKNOWLEDGMENT


In preparing this volume I have made use of portions of the following
books: "The War The World and Wilson" by George Creel; "What Wilson Did at
Paris," by Ray Stannard Baker; "Woodrow Wilson and His Work" by William E.
Dodd; "The Panama Canal Tolls Controversy" by Hugh Gordon Miller and
Joseph C. Freehoff; "Woodrow Wilson the Man and His Work" by Henry Jones
Ford; "The Real Colonel House" by Arthur D. Howden Smith; "The Foreign
Policy of Woodrow Wilson" by Edgar E. Robinson and Victor J. West. In
addition, I wish to make acknowledgment to the following books for
incidental assistance: "My Four Years in Germany" by James W. Gerard;
"Woodrow Wilson, An Interpretation" by A. Maurice Low; "A People Awakened"
by Charles Reade Bacon; "Woodrow Wilson" by Hester E. Hosford; "What
Really Happened at Paris," edited by Edward Mandell House and Charles
Seymour, and above all, to the public addresses of Woodrow Wilson. I
myself had furnished considerable data for various books on Woodrow Wilson
and have felt at liberty to make liberal use of some portions of these
sources as guide posts for my own narrative.




PREFACE


Woodrow Wilson prefers not to be written about. His enemies may, and of
course will, say what they please, but he would like to have his friends
hold their peace. He seems to think and feel that if he himself can keep
silent while his foes are talking, his friends should be equally stoical.
He made this plain in October, 1920, when he learned that I had slipped
away from my office at the White House one night shortly before the
election and made a speech about him in a little Maryland town, Bethesda.
He did not read the speech, I am sure he has never read it, but the fact
that I had made any sort of speech about him, displeased him. That was one
of the few times in my long association with him that I found him
distinctly cold. He said nothing, but his silence was vocal.

I suspect this book will share the fate of the Bethesda speech, will not
be read by Mr. Wilson. If this seems strange to those who do not know him
personally, I can only say that "Woodrow Wilson is made that way." He
cannot dramatize himself and shrinks from attempts of others to dramatize
him. "I will not write about myself," is his invariable retort to friends
who urge him to publish his own story of the Paris Peace Conference. He
craves the silence from others which he imposes upon himself. He is quite
willing to leave the assessment and interpretation of himself to time and
posterity. Knowing all this I have not consulted him about this book. Yet
I have felt that the book should be written, because I am anxious that his
contemporaries should know him as I have known him, not only as an
individual but also as the advocate of a set of great ideas and as the
leader of great movements. If I can picture him, even imperfectly, as I
have found him to be, both in himself and in his relationship to important
events, I must believe that the portrait will correct some curious
misapprehensions about him.

For instance, there is a prevalent idea, an innocently ignorant opinion in
some quarters, an all too sedulously cultivated report in other quarters,
that he has been uniformly headstrong, impatient of advice, his mind
hermetically closed to counsel from others. This book will expose the
error of that opinion; will show how, in his own words, his mind was "open
and to let," how he welcomed suggestions and criticism. Indeed I fear that
unless the reader ponders carefully what I have written he may glean the
opposite idea, that sometimes the President had to be prodded to action,
and that I represent myself as the chief prodder.

The superficial reader may find countenance lent to this latter view in
the many notes of information and advice which I addressed to the
President and in the record of his subsequent actions which were more or
less in accord with the counsel contained in some of these notes. If the
reader deduces from this the conclusion that I was the instigator of some
of the President's important policies, he will misinterpret the facts and
the President's character and mental processes; if he concludes that I am
trying to represent myself as the instigator he will misunderstand my
motives in publishing these notes.

These motives are: first, to tell the story of my association with Mr.
Wilson, and part of the record is contained in these notes; secondly, to
show what liberty he allowed me to suggest and criticize; how, so far from
being offended, he welcomed counsel. Having this privilege I exercised it.
I conceived it as part of my duty as his secretary and friend to report to
him my own interpretations of facts and public opinion as I gathered these
from newspapers and conversations, and sometimes to suggest modes of
action. These notes were memoranda for my chief's consideration.

The reader will see how frankly critical some of these notes are. The mere
fact that the President permitted me to continue to write to him in a vein
of candour that was frequently brusque and blunt, is the conclusive answer
to the charge that he resented criticism.

Contrary to the misrepresentations, he had from time to time many
advisers. In most instances, I do not possess written reports of what
others said orally and in writing, and therefore in this record, which is
essentially concerned with my own official and personal relations with
him, I may seem to represent myself as a preponderating influence. This is
neither the fact nor my intention. The public acts of Mr. Wilson were
frequently mosaics, made up of his own ideas and those of others. My
written notes were merely stones offered for the mosaic. Sometimes the
stones were rejected, sometimes accepted and shaped by the master builder
into the pattern.

It was a habit of Mr. Wilson's to meditate before taking action, to listen
to advice without comment, frequently without indicating whether or not
the idea broached by others had already occurred to him. We who knew him
best knew that often the idea had occurred to him and had been thought out
more lucidly than any adviser could state it. But he would test his own
views by the touchstone of other minds' reactions to the situations and
problems which he was facing and would get the "slant" of other minds.

He was always ahead of us all in his thinking. An admirer once said: "You
could shut him up in an hermetically sealed room and trust him to reach
the right decision," but as a matter of fact he did not work that way. He
sought counsel and considered it and acted on it or dismissed it according
to his best judgment, for the responsibility for the final action was his,
and he was boldly prepared to accept that responsibility and
conscientiously careful not to abuse it by acting rashly. While he would
on occasion make momentous decisions quickly and decisively, the habitual
character of his mind was deliberative. He wanted all the facts and so far
as possible the contingencies. Younger men like myself could counsel
immediate and drastic action, but even while we were advising we knew that
he would, without haste and without waste, calmly calculate his course.
What, coming from us, were merely words, would, coming from him,
constitute acts and a nation's destiny. He regarded himself as the
"trustee of the people," who should not act until he was sure he was right
and should then act with the decision and finality of fate itself.

Of another misapprehension, namely, that Mr. Wilson lacks human warmth, I
shall let the book speak without much prefatory comment. I have done my
work ill indeed if there does not emerge from the pages a human-hearted
man, a man whose passion it was to serve mankind. In his daily intercourse
with individuals he showed uniform consideration, at times deep
tenderness, though he did not have in his possession the little bag of
tricks which some politicians use so effectively: he did not clap men on
their backs, call them by their first names, and profess to each
individual he met that of all the men in the world this was the man whom
he most yearned to see. Perhaps he was too sincere for that; perhaps by
nature too reserved; but I am convinced that he who reads this book will
feel that he has met a man whose public career was governed not merely by
a great brain, but also by a great heart. I did not invent this character.
I observed him for eleven years.




CONTENTS


PREFACE

CHAPTER
I.        THE POLITICAL LABORATORY
II.       DOING THE POLITICAL CHORES
III.      MY FIRST MEETING WITH THE POLITICAL BOSS
IV.       COLONEL HARVEY ON THE SCENE
V.        THE NEW JERSEY SALIENT
VI.       SOMETHING NEW IN POLITICAL CAMPAIGNS
VII.      THE CRISIS OP THE CAMPAIGN
VIII.     THE END OP THE CAMPAIGN
IX.       A PARTY SPLIT
X.        EXIT THE OLD GUARD
XI.       EXECUTIVE LEADERSHIP
XII.      COLONEL HARVEY
XIII.     THE "COCKED HAT" INCIDENT
XIV.      WILSON AND THE OLD GUARD
XV.       MR. BRYAN ISSUES A CHALLENGE
XVI.      THE BALTIMORE CONVENTION
XVII.     FACING A SOLEMN RESPONSIBILITY
XVIII.    WILLIAM F. McCOMBS
XIX.      THE INAUGURATION OF 1913
XX.       MEXICO
XXI.      PANAMA TOLLS
XXII.     REFORMING THE CURRENCY
XXIII.    RENOMINATED
XXIV.     THE ADAMSON LAW
XXV.      GERMAN PROPAGANDA
XXVI.     WILSON AND HUGHES
XXVII.    NEUTRALITY
XXVIII.   PREPAREDNESS
XXIX.     THE GREAT DECLARATION
XXX.      CARRYING ON
XXXI.     THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD
XXXII.    COLONEL ROOSEVELT AND GENERAL WOOD
XXXIII.   WILSON THE WARRIOR
XXXIV.    GERMANY CAPITULATES
XXXV.     APPEAL FOR A DEMOCRATIC CONGRESS
XXXVI.    THE GREAT ADVENTURE
XXXVII.   WILSON--THE LONE HAND
XXXVIII.  JAPAN--SHANTUNG
XXXIX.    IRELAND
XL.       PROHIBITION
XLI.      THE TREATY FIGHT
XLII.     THE WESTERN TRIP
XLIII.    RESERVATIONS
XLIV.     WILSON--THE HUMAN BEING
XLV.      THE SAN FRANCISCO CONVENTION
XLVI.      THE LAST DAY

APPENDIX

INDEX




WOODROW WILSON AS I KNOW HIM




CHAPTER I

THE POLITICAL LABORATORY


My introduction to politics was in the Fifth Ward of Jersey City, New
Jersey, which for many years was the "Bloody Angle" of politics of the
city in which I lived. Always Democratic, it had been for many years the
heart and centre of what New Jersey Democrats were pleased to call the
great Gibraltar of Democracy. The ward in which I lived was made up of the
plainest sort of people, a veritable melting pot of all races, but with a
predominance of Irish, Germans, and Italians, between whom it was, like
ancient Gaul, divided into three parts.

My dear father, Philip Tumulty, a wounded soldier of the Civil War, after
serving an apprenticeship as an iron moulder under a delightful, whole-
souled Englishman, opened a little grocery store on Wayne Street, Jersey
City, where were laid the foundation stones of his modest fortune and
where, by his fine common sense, poise, and judgment, he soon established
himself as the leader of a Democratic faction in that neighbourhood. This
modest little place soon became a political laboratory for me. In the
evening, around the plain, old-fashioned counters, seated upon barrels and
boxes, the interesting characters of the neighbourhood gathered,
representing as they did the leading active political forces in that
quaint cosmopolitan community.

No matter how far back my memory turns, I cannot recall when I did not
hear politics discussed--not ward politics only, but frequently the
politics of the nation and the world. In that grocery store, from the lips
of the plainest folk who came there, were carried on serious discussions
of the tariff, the money question, our foreign relations, and all phases
of the then famous Venezuelan question, which in those days threatened to
set two continents on fire.

The make-up of the little "cabinet" or group which surrounded my father
was most interesting. There was Mr. Alexander Hamill, the father of
Congressman Hamill of Jersey City, a student of Queen's College in Ireland
and who afterward taught in the National Schools of Ireland, a well-read,
highly cultured, broad-minded man of affairs; and dear Uncle Jimmie
Kelter, almost a centenarian, whose fine old gray hair gave him the
appearance of a patriarch. Uncle Jimmie nightly revelled in the recital to
those who were present as ready listeners, his experience when he was
present at a session of the House of Parliament in London and heard the
famous Irish statesman, Daniel O'Connell, denounce England's attitude of
injustice toward Catholic emancipation. He loved to regale the little
group that encircled him by reciting from memory the great speech of
Robert Emmett from the dock, and excerpts from the classic speeches of the
leading Irish orators like Curran, Sheridan, and Fox.

While these discussions in the little store wended their uneasy way along,
a spark of humour was often injected into them by the delightful banter of
a rollicking, good-natured Irishman, a big two-fisted fellow, generous-
hearted and lovable, whom we affectionately called "Big Phil." I can see
him now, standing like a great pyramid in the midst of the little group,
every now and then throwing his head back in good-natured abandon,
recounting wild and fantastic tales about the fairies and banshees of the
Old Land from whence he had come. When his listeners would turn away, with
skepticism written all over their countenances, he would turn to me, whose
youthful enthusiasm made me an easy victim upon which to work his magic
spell in the stories which he told of the wonders of the Old Land across
the sea.

I loved these delightful little gatherings in whose deliberations my dear
father played so notable a part. Those kind folk, now off the stage, never
allowed the spirit of provincialism to guide their judgment or their
attitude toward great public affairs. I recall with pleasure their
tolerance, their largeness of view, and fine magnanimity which raised
every question they discussed to a high level. They were a very simple
folk, but independent in their political actions and views. Into that
little group of free, independent political thinkers would often come a
warning from the Democratic boss of the city that they must follow with
undivided allegiance the organization's dictum in political matters and
not seek to lead opinion in the community in which they lived. Supremely
indifferent were these fine old chaps to those warnings, and unmindful of
political consequences. They felt that they had left behind them a land of
oppression and they would not submit to tyrannous dictation in this free
land of ours, no matter who sought to exert it.

In this political laboratory I came in contact with the raw materials of
political life that, as an older man, I was soon to see moulded into
political action in a larger way in the years to come. I found in politics
that the great policies of a nation are simply the policies and passions
of the ward extended. In the little discussions that took place in that
store, I was, even as a youth, looking on from the side-lines, struck by
the fine, wholesome, generous spirit of my own father. Never would he
permit, for instance, in the matter of the discussion of Ireland--so dear
to his heart--a shade of resentment or bitterness toward England to
influence his judgment in the least, for he believed that no man could be
a just judge in any matter where his mind was filled with passion; and so
in this matter, the subject of such fierce controversy, as in every other,
he held a judgment free and far away from his passionate antagonisms. I
found in the simple life of the community where I was brought up the same
human things, in a small way, that I was subsequently to come in contact
with in a larger way in the whirligig of political life in the Capitol of
the Nation. I found the same relative bigness and the same relative
smallness, the same petty jealousies and rivalries which manifest
themselves in the larger fields of a great nation's life; the same good
nature, and the same deep humanity expressing itself in the same way, only
differently apparelled.

One of the most interesting places in the world for the study of human
character is the country store or the city grocery. I was able as a boy
standing behind the counter of the little grocery store to study people;
and intimately to become acquainted with them and their daily lives and
the lives of their women and children. I never came in contact with their
daily routine, their joys and sorrows, their bitter actualities and deep
tragedies, without feeling rise in me a desire to be of service. I
remember many years ago, seated behind the counter of my father's grocery
store, with what passionate resentment I read the vivid headlines of the
metropolitan newspapers and the ghastly accounts of the now famous
Homestead Strike of 1892. Of course, I came to realize in after years that
the headlines of a newspaper are not always in agreement with the actual
facts; but I do recall how intently I pored over every detail of this
tragic story of industrial war and how, deep in my heart, I resented the
efforts of a capitalistic system that would use its power in this unjust,
inhuman way. Little did I realize as I pored over the story of this
tragedy in that far-off day that some time, seated at my desk at the White
House in the office of the secretary to the President of the United
States, I would have the pleasure of meeting face to face the leading
actor in this lurid drama, Mr. Andrew Carnegie himself, and of hearing
from his own lips a human and intelligent recital of the events which
formed the interesting background of the Homestead Strike.




CHAPTER II

DOING THE POLITICAL CHORES


For the young man who wishes to rise in the politics of a great city there
is no royal road to preferment but only a plain path of modest service
uncomplainingly rendered. Of course, there seem to be exceptions to this
rule. At times it is possible for the scion of a great family to rise to
temporary distinction in politics without a preliminary course in the
school of local politics, for as a Democratic boss once said to me: "Great
family names are fine window-dressers," but in my own experience I have
seen the disappointing end of careers thus begun and have found that
sometimes after a great name has been temporarily used to meet certain
political emergencies, the would-be politician is quickly thrust aside to
make way for the less pretentious but more capable man. There is nothing
permanent or lasting about a place in politics gained in this adventitious
way. Of course, there sometimes come to high office men from military
careers, or men, like the distinguished subject of this book, from fields
apparently remote from practical politics, but such successes are due to
an appealing personal force, or to exceptional genius which the young
aspirant had better not assume that he possesses. The general rule holds
good that a political apprenticeship is as necessary and valuable as an
industrial apprenticeship.

My first official connection with politics was as the financial secretary
of the Fifth Ward Democratic Club of Jersey City. My father had told me
that if I intended to play an active part in politics, it would be
necessary to begin modestly at the bottom of the ladder, to do the
political chores, as it were, which are a necessary part of ward
organization work. I recall those days with singular pleasure, for my work
gave me an unusual opportunity to meet the privates in the ranks and to
make friendships that were permanent.

The meetings of the Club were held each week in a modest club house, with
part of the meeting given over to addresses made by what were then
considered the leading men in the Democratic party. It is queer how the
average political worker favours the senator, or the ex-judge, or the
ex-Congressman, as a speaker on these occasions. Ex-Congressman Gray, of
Texas (I doubt whether there ever was a congressman by that name), would
often be the headliner and he could be depended upon to draw a crowded and
enthusiastic house. The knowledge and experience I gained at these
inspirational meetings were mighty helpful to me in the political life I
had carved out for myself. I found that when you had convinced these
plain, everyday fellows that, although you were a college man, you were
not necessarily a highbrow, they were willing to serve you to the end. It
was a valuable course in a great university. It was not very long until I
was given my first opportunity, in 1896, to make my first political speech
in behalf of Mr. Bryan, then the Democratic candidate for President. I was
not able at that time to disentangle the intricacies of the difficult
money problems, but I endeavoured, imperfectly at least, in the speeches I
made, to lay my finger on what I considered the great moral issue that lay
behind the silver question in that memorable campaign--the attempt by
eastern financial interests to dominate the Government of the United
States.

After my apprenticeship, begun as secretary of the Fifth Ward Democratic
Club, an incident happened which caused a sudden rise in my political
stock. At a county convention I was given the opportunity of making the
nominating speech for the Fifth Ward's candidate for street and water
commissioner--a bricklayer and a fine fellow--who was opposing the machine
candidate. It was a real effort on my part and caused me days and nights
of worry and preparation. Indeed, it seemed to me to be the great moment
of my life. I vividly recall the incidents of what to me was a memorable
occasion. I distinctly remember that on the night of the Convention, with
the delegates from my ward, I faced an unfriendly and hostile audience,
our candidate having aroused the opposition of the boss and his
satellites. While I felt that the attitude of the Convention was one of
opposition to our candidate, there was no evidence of unfriendliness or
hostility to myself as the humble spokesman of the Fifth Ward. When I
stood up to speak I realized that I had to "play up" to the spirit of
generosity which is always latent in a crowd such as I was addressing. I
believe I won, although my candidate, unfortunately, lost. My Irish
buoyancy and good nature brought me over the line. I felt that the
audience in the gallery and the delegates on the floor were with me, but
unfortunately for my cause, the boss, who was always the dominating
influence of the Convention, was against me, and so we lost in the
spirited fight we made. In this first skirmish of my political career I
made up my mind to meet defeat with good grace and, if possible,
smilingly, and no sore spot or resentment over our defeat ever showed
itself in my attitude toward the men who saw fit to oppose us. Evidently,
the boss and his friends appreciated this attitude, for it was reported to
me shortly after the Convention that I was to be given recognition and by
the boss's orders would soon be placed on the eligible list for future
consideration in connection with a place on the legislative ticket.

One lesson I learned was not to be embittered by defeat. Since then I have
seen too many cases of men so disgruntled at being worsted in their first
battles that their political careers ended when they should have been just
beginning.




CHAPTER III

MY FIRST MEETING WITH THE POLITICAL BOSS


After serving my apprenticeship as a ward worker, devoted friends from my
home ward urged my name upon the Democratic leader, Mr. Robert Davis, for
a place upon the Democratic legislative ticket for Hudson County. I had
grown to have a deep regard and affection for this fine old fellow. While
he was a boss in every sense, maintaining close relations with the Public
Service Corporations of the state, he had an engaging human side. He never
pretended nor deceived. With his friends he was open, frank, generous, and
honourable in all his dealings, and especially kind to and considerate of
the young men who became part of his working force. With his political
enemies he was fair and decent. Many a time during a legislative session,
when I was a member of the House of Assembly, word would come to us of the
boss's desire that we should support this or that bill, behind which
certain corporate interests lay. The orders, however, were clean and
without a threat of any kind. He took no unfair advantage and made no
reprisals when we failed to carry out his desires.

While a member of the New Jersey Legislature, the name of Woodrow Wilson
began to be first discussed in the political world of New Jersey. It came
about in this way: By reason of the normal Republican majority of the
state the nomination by the Legislature in those days of a Democratic
candidate for the United States senatorship was a mere compliment, a
courtesy, a very meagre one indeed, and was generally paid to the old war
horses of democracy like James E. Martine, of Plainfield, New Jersey; but
the appearance of the doughty Colonel Harvey on the scene, at the 1907
session of the New Jersey Legislature, gave a new turn to this custom. A
request was made by Colonel Harvey and diplomatically conveyed by his
friends to the Democratic members of the Legislature, that the honorary
nomination for the United States senatorship at this session of the
Legislature should be given to President Wilson of Princeton. It may be
added that I learned years afterward that Mr. Wilson was not a party to
Colonel Harvey's plans; that once he even sent a friend as an emissary to
explain to the Colonel that Mr. Wilson did not believe that the use of his
name in connection with political office was a service to him or to
Princeton University.

The suggestion that Woodrow Wilson be given the nomination was hotly
resented by young men like myself in the Legislature. Frankly, I led the
opposition to the man I was afterward to serve for eleven years in the
capacity of private secretary. The basis of my opposition to Mr. Wilson
for this empty honour was the rumour that had been industriously
circulated in the state House and elsewhere, that there was, as Mr. Dooley
says, "a plan afoot" by the big interests of New Jersey and New York to
nominate Woodrow Wilson for the senatorship and then nominate him for
governor of the state as a preliminary start for the Presidency. I
remember now, with the deepest chagrin and regret, having bitterly
assailed Woodrow Wilson's candidacy in a Democratic caucus which I
attended and how I denounced him for his alleged opposition to labour. In
view of my subsequent intimacy with Mr. Wilson and the knowledge gained of
his great heart and his big vision in all matters affecting labour, I
cannot now point with pride to the speech I then made attacking him. I am
sure the dear doctor, away off in Princeton, never even heard of my
opposition to him, although in my conceit I thought the state reverberated
with the report of my unqualified and bitter opposition to him. In my poor
vanity I thought that perhaps what I had said in my speech of opposition
to him had reached the cloisters of Princeton. As a matter of fact, he
never heard about me or my speech, and afterward in the years of our
association he "joshed" me about my opposition to him and would often make
me very uncomfortable by recounting to his friends at the White House how
even his own secretary had opposed him when his name was first under
consideration for the United States senatorship in New Jersey.

To me was given the honour of nominating at a joint session of the Senate
and House Assembly the candidate opposed to Woodrow Wilson for the Senate,
the Honourable Edwin E. Stevens. I recall the comparison I made between
the claims of Colonel Stevens, the strict party man, and those of Woodrow
Wilson, the Princeton professor. The speech nominating Woodrow Wilson at
the joint session of the Legislature was the shortest on record. It was
delivered by a big generous fellow, John Baader, one of the Smith-Nugent
men from Essex County. When Essex County was called, he slowly rose to his
feet and almost shamefacedly addressing the Speaker of the House, said,
tremulously: "I nominate for the United States Senate Woodrow Wilson, of
Princeton," and then, amid silence, sat down. No applause greeted the name
of the man he nominated. It seemed as if the college professor had no
friends in the Legislature except the man who had put his name forward for
the nomination.

Colonel Stevens won the honorary nomination and Woodrow Wilson was
defeated. Colonel Harvey, disgruntled but not discouraged, packed up his
kit and left on the next train for New York.




CHAPTER IV

COLONEL HARVEY ON THE SCENE


Although the intrepid Colonel Harvey was defeated in the first skirmish to
advance the cause of Woodrow Wilson, he continued to pursue his purpose to
force his personal choice upon the New Jersey Democracy. The approaching
gubernatorial election in 1910 gave the Colonel his opportunity and he
took full advantage of it.

Rumours began to circulate that the machine run by Davis, Smith, and Ross,
the great Democratic triumvirate of the state, was determined to nominate
the Princeton president at any cost. Young men like Mark Sullivan, John
Treacy, and myself, all of Hudson County, representing the liberal wing of
our party, were bitterly opposed to this effort. We suspected that the
"Old Gang" was up to its old trick of foisting upon the Democrats of the
state a tool which they could use for their own advantage, who, under the
name of the Democratic party, would do the bidding of the corporate
interests which had, under both the "regular" organizations, Democratic
and Republican, found in New Jersey their most nutritious pastures. At a
meeting held at the Lawyers' Club in New York, younger Democrats, like
Judge Silzer of Middlesex and myself, "plighted our political troth" and
pledged our undying opposition to the candidacy of the Princeton
president. As a result of our conferences we set in motion the progressive
machinery of the state in an intensive effort to force the nomination of
Judge Silzer in opposition to that of Woodrow Wilson.

As soon as the Democratic boss of Hudson County, Bob Davis, one of the
leaders in the Wilson movement in North Jersey, was apprized of the
proposed action on our part, he set about to head it off, and as part of
his plan of opposition he sent for me in an effort to wean me away from
the Silzer candidacy. I refused to yield. Upon being interrogated by me as
to his interest in Woodrow Wilson, Boss Davis stated that if we nominated
Woodrow Wilson there would be a big campaign fund put up for him by Moses
Taylor Pyne, a trustee of Princeton University. Never before was the
ignorance of a boss made more manifest. As a matter of fact, at that very
time there was no more implacable foe of Woodrow Wilson in the state of
New Jersey than Moses Taylor Pyne, who headed the opposition to Mr. Wilson
in the Princeton fight.

Years after this incident the President and I often laughed at what must
have been the surprise and discomfiture of Boss Davis when he finally
learned the facts as to Moses Taylor Pyne's real feelings toward Woodrow
Wilson. Previous to the gubernatorial campaign I asked Boss Davis if he
thought Woodrow Wilson would make a good governor. His reply was
characteristic of the point of view of the boss in dealing with these
matters of moment to the people of the state. "How the hell do I know
whether he'll make a good governor?" he replied; "he will make a good
candidate, and that is the only thing that interests me."

Shortly after, those of us who banded together to oppose the bosses in
their efforts to force Doctor Wilson upon us began to the feel pressure of
the organization's influence. Many of our friends left us in despair and
in fear of the power of the machine. The movement toward Woodrow Wilson in
the state was soon in full swing. The Davis-Smith-Nugent-Ross machine was
in fine working order on the day and the night of the Convention.

I was not even a delegate to the Convention, but I was present and kept in
close touch by contact with my friends with every phase of the convention
fight. Colonel Harvey was again on the scene as the generalissimo of the
Wilson forces, quietly and stealthily moving about, lining up his forces
for the memorable battle of the morrow. There was bitter but unorganized
opposition to the favourite son of the state machine, Woodrow Wilson. The
Convention itself presented an unusual situation and demonstrated more
than anything I ever saw the power of the "Old Gang" to do the thing its
masters had in mind. As I look back upon the great event of this
convention, the nomination of Woodrow Wilson for the governorship of New
Jersey, I feel that destiny was inscrutably engaged there, working in
mysterious ways its wonders to perform, working perhaps through strange,
incongruous instrumentalities to bring the man of destiny into action, led
by those who were opposed to everything Woodrow Wilson stood for, opposed
by those who were yearning for and striving for just the dawn of political
liberalism that his advent in politics heralded. The conflict of the
Trenton Convention about to be enacted was an illustration of the poet's
line, "Where ignorant armies clash by night." The successful side of the
Convention was fighting for what they least wanted; the defeated against
what they most wanted. Here in this convention, in truth, were in
aggressive action the incongruities of politics and in full display were
witnessed the sardonic contrasts between the visible and the invisible
situations in politics. All the Old Guard moving with Prussian precision
to the nomination of the man who was to destroy for a time the machine
rule in New Jersey and inaugurate a new national era in political
liberalism while all the liberal elements of the state, including fine old
Judge Westcott of Camden and young men like myself were sullen, helpless.
Every progressive Democrat in the Convention was opposed to the nomination
of the Princetonian, and every standpatter and Old Guardsman was in favour
of Woodrow Wilson. On the convention floor, dominating the whole affair,
stood ex-Senator James Smith, Jr., of New Jersey, the spokesman of the
"highbrow" candidate for governor, controlling the delegates from south
and west Jersey. Handsome, cool, dignified, he rose from the floor of the
convention hall, and in rich, low tones, seconded the nomination of the
man "he had never met," the man he would not "presume" to claim
acquaintance with, the man whose life had lain in other fields than his.
Very close to him, "taking his orders," and acting upon every suggestion
that came to him, sat Jim Nugent, grim, big-jawed, the giant full-back of
Smith's invincible team, the rising star of machine politics in New
Jersey. Down the aisle sat the "Little Napoleon" of Hudson County, Bob
Davis, wearing a sardonic smile on his usually placid face, with his big
eyes riveted upon those in the Convention who were fighting desperately
and against great odds the effort of the state machine to nominate
President Wilson. Across the aisle from me sat "Plank-Shad" Thompson, of
Gloucester, big and debonair, a thoroughly fine fellow socially, but
always ready to act upon and carry out every tip that came to him from the
master minds in the Convention--Davis and Smith.

These were the leading actors in this political drama. Behind the lines,
in the "offing," was the Insurgent Group, young men like Mark Sullivan and
John Treacy of Hudson, stout defenders of the liberal wing in the
Convention, feeling sullen, beaten, and hopelessly impotent against the
mass attack of the machine forces. What a political medley was present in
this convention--plebeian and patrician, machine man and political
idealist--all gathered together and fighting as leading characters and
supernumeraries in the political drama about to be enacted.

Not three men outside of the leading actors in this great political drama
had ever seen the Princeton professor, although many had doubtless read
his speeches. I watched every move from the side-lines. The bosses, with
consummate precision, moved to the doing of the job in hand, working their
spell of threats and coercion upon a beaten, sullen, spiritless body of
delegates. One could easily discern that there was no heart in the
delegates for the job on hand. To them, the active forces in the
Convention, the Princeton president was, indeed, a man of mystery. Who
could solve the riddle of this political Sphinx? Who was this man Wilson?
What were his purposes? What his ideals? These questions were troubling
and perplexing the delegates. Colonel Harvey, the commander-in-chief of
the Wilson forces, when interrogated by us, refused to answer. How
masterfully the Old Guard staged every act of the drama, and thus brought
about the nomination of the Princeton president. The Convention is at an
end. Wilson has been nominated by a narrow margin; the delegates, bitter
and resentful, are about to withdraw; the curtain is about to roll down on
the last scene. The chairman, Mr. John R. Hardin, the distinguished lawyer
of Essex, is about to announce the final vote, when the clerk of the
Convention, in a tone of voice that reached every part of the hall,
announces in a most dramatic fashion: "We have just received word that Mr.
Wilson, the candidate for the governorship, _and the next President of the
United States_, has received word of his nomination; has left Princeton,
and is now on his way to the Convention." Excellent stage work. The voice
of the secretary making this dramatic statement was the voice of Jacob,
but the deft hand behind this clever move was that of Colonel Harvey. This
announcement literally sets the Convention on fire. Bedlam breaks loose.
The only sullen and indifferent ones in the hall are those of us who met
defeat a few hours before. For us, at least, the mystery is about to be
solved. The Princeton professor has left the shades of the University to
enter the Elysian Fields of politics.

At the time the secretary's announcement was made I was in the rear of the
convention hall, trying to become reconciled to our defeat. I then wended
my weary way to the stage and stood close to the band, which was busy
entertaining the crowd until the arrival of Mr. Wilson. I wanted to obtain
what newspaper men call a "close-up" of this man of mystery.

What were my own feelings as I saw the candidate quietly walk to the
speakers' stand? I was now to see almost face to face for the first time
the man I had openly and bitterly denounced only a few hours before. What
reaction of regret or pleasure did I experience as I beheld the vigorous,
clean-cut, plainly garbed man, who now stood before me, cool and smiling?
My first reaction of regret came when he uttered these words:

    I feel the responsibility of the occasion. Responsibility is
    proportionate to opportunity. It is a great opportunity to serve the
    State and Nation. I did not seek this nomination, I have made no
    pledge and have given no promises. If elected, I am left absolutely
    free to serve you with all singleness of purpose. It is a new era when
    these things can be said, and in connection with this I feel that the
    dominant idea of the moment is the responsibility of deserving. I will
    have to serve the state very well in order to deserve the honour of
    being at its head.... Did you ever experience the elation of a great
    hope, that you desire to do right because it is right and without
    thought of doing it for your own interest? At that period your hopes
    are unselfish. This in particular is a day of unselfish purpose for
    Democracy. The country has been universally misled and the people have
    begun to believe that there is something radically wrong. And now we
    should make this era of hope one of realization through the Democratic
    party.

I had another reaction of regret when he said:

"Government is not a warfare of interests. We shall not gain our ends by
heat and bitterness." How simple the man, how modest, how cultured!
Attempting none of the cheap "plays" of the old campaign orator, he
impressively proceeded with his thrilling speech, carrying his audience
with him under the spell of his eloquent words. How tense the moment! His
words, spoken in tones so soft, so fine, in voice so well modulated, so
heart-stirring. Only a few sentences are uttered and our souls are stirred
to their very depths. It was not only what he said, but the simple heart-
stirring way in which he said it. The great climax came when he uttered
these moving words: "The future is not for parties 'playing politics' but
for measures conceived in the largest spirit, pushed by parties whose
leaders are statesmen, not demagogues, who love not their offices but
their duty and their opportunity for service. We are witnessing a
renaissance of public spirit, a reawakening of sober public opinion, a
revival of the power of the people, the beginning of an age of thoughtful
reconstruction that makes our thoughts hark back to the age in which
democracy was set up in America. With the new age we shall show a new
spirit. We shall serve justice and candour and all things that make, for
the right. Is not our own party disciplined and made ready for this great
task? Shall we not forget ourselves in making it the instrument of
righteousness for the state and for the nation?"

After this climax there was a short pause. "Go on, go on," eagerly cried
the crowd. The personal magnetism of the man, his winning smile, so frank
and so sincere, the light of his gray eyes, the fine poise of his well-
shaped head, the beautiful rhythm of his vigorous sentences, held the men
in the Convention breathless under their mystic spell. Men all about me
cried in a frenzy: "Thank God, at last, a leader has come!"

Then, the great ending. Turning to the flag that hung over the speakers'
stand, he said, in words so impressive as to bring almost a sob from his
hearers:

    When I think of the flag which our ships carry, the only touch of
    colour about them, the only thing that moves as if it had a settled
    spirit in it--in their solid structure, it seems to me I see alternate
    strips of parchment upon which are written the rights of liberty and
    justice and strips of blood spilled to vindicate those rights and
    then--in the corner--a prediction of the blue serene into which every
    nation may swim which stands for these great things.

The speech is over. Around me there is a swirling mass of men whose hearts
had been touched by the great speech which is just at an end. Men stood
about me with tears streaming from their eyes. Realizing that they had
just stood in the presence of greatness, it seemed as if they had been
lifted out of the selfish miasma of politics, and, in the spirit of the
Crusaders, were ready to dedicate themselves to the cause of liberating
their state from the bondage of special interests.

As I turned to leave the convention hall there stood at my side old John
Crandall, of Atlantic City, like myself a bitter, implacable foe of
Woodrow Wilson, in the Convention. I watched him intently to see what
effect the speech had had upon him. For a minute he was silent, as if in a
dream, and then, drawing himself up to his full height, with a cynical
smile on his face, waving his hat and cane in the air, and at the same
time shaking his head in a self-accusing way, yelled at the top of his
voice, "I am sixty-five years old, and still a damn fool!"




CHAPTER V

THE NEW JERSEY SALIENT


No campaign in New Jersey caused so great an interest as the gubernatorial
campaign of 1910. The introduction of a Princeton professor into the
political melee in New Jersey had given a novel touch to what ordinarily
would have been a routine affair. The prologue to the great drama, the
various scenes of which were now to unfold before the voters of the state,
had been enacted at the Democratic Convention at Trenton under the
masterly direction of the members of the Democratic Old Guard of the
state. New Jersey had long been noted throughout the country as the
"Mother of Trusts", and the nesting place of Privilege. Through their
alliance and partnership with the political bosses of both parties the so-
called corporate interests had been for many years successful, against the
greatest pressure of public opinion, in blocking the passage of
progressive legislation.

Liberal-minded men in the state had for many years been carrying on an
agitation for the enactment into law of legislation that would make
possible the following great needs:

  1. The passage of a Direct Primary Act.
  2. The passage of an Employers' Liability Act.
  3. The regulation of Public Utilities.
  4. The passage of a Corrupt Practices Act.

These were matters within the scope of state legislation, and to these was
added an agitation for a fifth reform, which, of course, could be
accomplished only through an amendment to the Constitution of the United
States, the election of United States senators by vote of the people.

In the old days in New Jersey, now happily gone, the days when the
granting of special corporation charters was the vogue, a sort of
political suzerainty was set up by Railroad and Public Service interests.
Every election was, in its last analysis, a solemn referendum upon the
question as to which corporate interest should control legislation--
whether the Pennsylvania Railroad, whose master mind was the Republican
leader of the state, United States Senator Sewall, or the Public Service
interests, whose votaries and friends were Senator Smith of New Jersey,
and Milan Ross, Sr., of Middlesex County.

While these corporate interests fought among themselves over the matter of
a United States senatorship or the governorship of a state, they were at
one in their unrelenting, bitter, and highly organized opposition to the
passage of what in this day we call by the highly dignified name of Social
Welfare Legislation. The voices of those liberal-minded men and women of
the state, who, year after year, fought for this legislation, were like
voices crying in the wilderness. An illustration of corporate opposition
was the unrelenting attitude of the Special Interest group of the state to
the passage of the Employers' Liability Act. Every decent, progressive,
humane man in the state felt that the old, barbaric, Fellow-Servant
doctrine should be changed and that there should be substituted for it a
more humane, wholesome, modern doctrine. Nearly every state in the Union
had already recognized the injustice of the old rule, but the privileged
interests in New Jersey could not be moved in their bitter and implacable
opposition to it, and for over half a century they had succeeded in
preventing its enactment into law. Progressives or New Idea Republicans,
high in the councils of that party, had fought with their Democratic
brethren to pass this legislation, but always without result. At last
there came a revolt in the Republican party, brought about and led by
sturdy Republicans like Everett Colby of Essex, and William P. Martin of
the same county; George Record and Mark M. Fagan of my own county, Hudson.
Out of this split came the establishment in the ranks of the Republican
party itself of a faction which called itself the New Idea branch of the
Republican party. The campaign for humane legislation within the ranks of
the G.O.P. was at last begun in real fighting fashion. It was the
irrepressible conflict between the old and the new, between those who
believed human rights are superior to and take precedence over property
rights. The conflict could not be stayed; its leaders could not be
restrained. These men, Colby, Record, Martin, and Fagan, were the sowers
of the Progressive seed which Woodrow Wilson, by his genius for leadership
and constructive action along humane lines, was soon to harvest. His
candidacy, therefore, admirably fitted into the interesting situation.

When the convention that nominated Woodrow Wilson had adjourned, a
convention wholly dominated by reactionary bosses, it seemed as if
progress and every fine thing for which the Progressives had worked had
been put finally to sleep. Behind the selection of the Princetonian and
his candidacy lay the Old Guard who thought the Professor could be used as
a shield for their strategy. The Progressives, both Democratic and
Republican, had witnessed the scenes enacted at the Democratic Convention
at Trenton with breaking hearts. They were about to lose hope. They did
not know that the candidate had at the outset served notice on the Old
Guard that if he were nominated he must be a free man to do nobody's
bidding, to serve no interests except those of the people of the state;
but the Old Guard had not published this.

The Republican candidate, nominated at the time Woodrow Wilson was
selected, was a most pleasant, kindly, genial man from Passaic, Mr. Vivian
M. Lewis, who had just retired as banking commissioner for the state. By
clever plays to the Progressives he had, at least temporarily, brought
together the various progressive elements of the state. This movement
apparently was aided by the Democratic candidate's reluctance in the early
days of the campaign to speak out boldly against the domination of the
Democratic party by the bosses or the Old Guard.




CHAPTER VI

SOMETHING NEW IN POLITICAL CAMPAIGNS


Woodrow Wilson opened his gubernatorial campaign with a speech in Jersey
City, my home town. It was a distinct disappointment to those who attended
the meeting. His speech in accepting the nomination had touched us deeply
and had aroused in us great expectations, but after the Jersey City speech
we were depressed in spirit, for it seemed to us that he was evading the
real issues of the campaign. I was most anxious to meet the candidate and
give him, if he invited it, my impressions of this speech. A dinner given
to complete the ceremonies attendant upon the purchase of the Caldwell
residence of Grover Cleveland gave me the first opportunity to meet the
president of Princeton in an intimate way. Mr. Wilson's first wife, a most
delightful woman, made the introduction possible. As I fondly look back
upon this meeting, I vividly recall my impressions of the man who had just
been nominated for the governorship of the state in a convention in which
I had bitterly opposed him.

The democratic bearing of the man, his warmth of manner, charm, and kindly
bearing were the first things that attracted me to him. There was no
coldness or austerity about him, nor was he what the politicians would
call "high-browish." He impressed me as a plain, unaffected, affable
gentleman, who was most anxious to receive advice and suggestion from any
quarter. He made us doubly welcome by saying that he had heard a great
deal of favourable comment about the work of Judge Sullivan and myself in
the Legislature. This made us feel perfectly at home, and this frank
manner of dealing with us opened the way for the suggestions we desired to
make to him as to the attitude we younger Democrats thought he should
assume on what we believed were the vital, progressive issues of the
campaign.

When he was informed that I was present at his first meeting a few nights
before in Jersey City, he came over to me and in a most friendly way said:
"What did you really think of my speech?" For a moment I was embarrassed,
and yet the frankness of the man was compelling and so I said: "Doctor, do
you really desire an honest opinion of that speech? I really want to serve
you but I can do so only by speaking frankly." He replied: "That is what I
most desire." "Well," I said, "your speech was most disappointing." I
stopped suddenly, feeling that I had done enough damage to the Professor's
feelings. But he urged: "Please tell me what your criticism is. What I
most need is honesty and frankness. You cannot hurt my feelings by
truthfully expressing your opinion. Don't forget that I am an amateur at
this game and need advice and guidance." Encouraged by this suggestion, I
proceeded to tell him what I considered the principal defects of his
opening speech at Jersey City. I told him that there was a lack of
definiteness in it which gave rise to the impression that he was trying to
evade a discussion of the moral issues of the campaign, among them, of
major importance, being the regulation of Public Utilities and the passage
of an Employers' Liability Act. Briefly sketching for him our legislative
situation, I gave him the facts with reference to those large measures of
public interest; how, for many years, in face of constant agitation, the
Old Guard had prevented the enactment of these measures into law, and how,
therefore, his failure to discuss these matters in his first speech had
caused a grave feeling of unrest in the progressive ranks of both parties
in New Jersey.

[Illustration:

    The White House
      Washington

    Cornish, N. H.,
    July 3, 1915

    My dear Tumulty:

    I am heartily obliged to you for your telegrams. It is characteristic
    of you to keep my mind free by such messages. I am really having a
    most refreshing and rewarding time and am very thankful to get it. I
    hope that you are not having depressing weather in Washington and that
    you are finding it possible to make satisfactory arrangements for the
    family, so that we can have the pleasure of having you with us at the
    White House when I get back.

    With warmest messages from us all,
      Affectionately yours,

    (signed)
    Woodrow Wilson

    Hon. Joseph P. Tumulty
    Washington, D.C.

This letter reveals the warm personal relations between the President and
his secretary.]

He listened with keen attention and then modestly remarked: "I value very
highly this tip and you may rest assured I shall cover these matters in my
next speech. I meant that speech to be general."

In my ignorance of things past I did not know that the candidate had
himself written the platform adopted by the Trenton Convention, and in my
ignorance of the future I did not then know that one of the boldest and
most remarkable political campaigns in America was to be conducted on that
platform, and that after the election and inauguration of the nominee the
chief business of the legislation was destined to be the enactment into
law of each of the planks of the platform, a complete and itemized
fulfilment of preëlection promises, unusual in the history of American
politics. At the time of my first conversation with the nominee I only
knew that the Convention had been dominated by the reactionary elements in
the party, that under this domination it had stolen the thunder of the
progressive elements of the party and of the New Idea Republicans, and
that the platform had been practically ignored by the candidate in his
first campaign speech. In these circumstances, and smarting as I was under
the recollection of recent defeat, it is not strange that I thought I
detected the old political ruse of dressing the wolf in sheep's clothing,
of using handsome pledges as a mask to deceive the gullible, and that I
assumed that this scholarly amateur in politics was being used for their
own purposes by masters and veterans in the old game of thimblerig.

The candidate soon struck his gait and astonished me and all New Jersey
with the vigour, frankness, and lucidity of his speeches of exposition and
appeal. No campaign in years in New Jersey had roused such universal
interest. There was no mistaking the character and enthusiasm of the
greeting the candidate received every place he spoke, nor the response his
thrilling speeches evoked all over the state. Those who had gathered the
idea that the head of the great university would appear pedantic and stand
stiff-necked upon an academic pedestal from which he would talk over the
heads of the common people were forced, by the fighting, aggressive
attitude of the Doctor, to revise their old estimates. The campaign had
only begun when the leading newspapers of the country, particularly the
large dailies of New York, were taking an interest in the New Jersey
fight.

Those of us who doubted Woodrow Wilson's sincerity and his sympathy for
the great progressive measures for which we had been fighting in the New
Jersey Legislature were soon put at ease by the developments of his
campaign and his sympathetic attitude toward the things we had so much at
heart.

No candidate for governor in New Jersey had ever made so striking and
moving an appeal. Forgetting and ignoring the old slogans and shibboleths,
he appealed to the hearts and consciences of the people of the state. His
homely illustrations evoked expressions of delight, until it seemed as if
this newcomer in the politics of our state had a better knowledge of the
psychology of the ordinary crowd than the old stagers who had spent their
lives in politics. His illustrations always went home.

For instance, speaking of progress, Doctor Wilson said that much depended
upon the action of the one who is supposed to be progressive. "I can
recall," he would say in trying to make his point, "the picture of a poor
devil of a donkey on a treadmill. He keeps on tramping, tramping,
tramping, but he never gets anywhere. But," he continued, "there is a
certain elephant that's tramping, too, and how much progress is it
making?" And then, again, he would grow solemn when he spoke of the
average man. Turning aside from the humorous, he would strike a serious
note like this one:

    You know that communities are not distinguished by exceptional men.
    They are distinguished by the average of their citizenship. I often
    think of the poor man when he goes to vote: a moral unit in his lonely
    dignity.

    The deepest conviction and passion of my heart is that the common
    people, by which I mean all of us, are to be absolutely trusted. The
    peculiarity of some representatives, particularly those of the
    Republican party, is that when they talk about the people, they
    obviously do not include themselves. Now if, when you think of the
    people, you are not thinking about yourself, then you do not belong in
    America.

    When I look back at the processes of history, when I look back at the
    genesis of America, I see this written over every page, that the
    nations are renewed from the bottom, not from the top; that the genius
    which springs up from the ranks of unknown men is the genius which
    renews the youth and the energy of the people; and in every age of the
    world, where you stop the courses of the blood from the roots, you
    injure the great, useful structure to the extent that atrophy, death,
    and decay are sure to ensue. This is the reason that an hereditary
    monarchy does not work; that is the reason that an hereditary
    aristocracy does not work; that is the reason that everything of that
    sort is full of corruption and ready to decay.

    So I say that our challenge of to-day is to include in the partnership
    all those great bodies of unnamed men who are going to produce our
    future leaders and renew the future energies of America. And as I
    confess that, as I confess my belief in the common man, I know what I
    am saying. The man who is swimming against the stream knows the
    strength of it. The man who is in the mêlée knows what blows are being
    struck and what blood is being drawn. The man who is on the make is a
    judge of what is happening in America, not the man who has made; not
    the man who has emerged from the flood, not the man who is standing on
    the bank, looking on, but the man who is struggling for his life and
    for the lives of those who are dearer to him than himself. That is the
    man whose judgment will tell you what is going on in America, and that
    is the man by whose judgment I for one wish to be guided--so that as
    the tasks multiply and the days come when all will seem confusion and
    dismay, we may lift up our eyes to the hills out of these dark valleys
    where the crags of special privilege overshadow and darken our path,
    to where the sun gleams through the great passage in the broken
    cliffs, the sun of God, the sun meant to regenerate men, the sun meant
    to liberate them from their passion and despair and to lift us to
    those uplands which are the promised land of every man who desires
    liberty and achievement.

Speaking for the necessity of corporate reform in business, he said:

    I am not objecting to the size of these corporations. Nothing is big
    enough to scare me. What I am objecting to is that the Government
    should give them exceptional advantages, which enables them to succeed
    and does not put them on the same footing as other people. I think
    those great touring cars, for example, which are labelled "Seeing New
    York," are too big for the streets. You have almost to walk around the
    block to get away from them, and size has a great deal to do with the
    trouble if you are trying to get out of the way. But I have no
    objection on that account to the ordinary automobile properly handled
    by a man of conscience who is also a gentleman. I have no objection to
    the size, power, and beauty of an automobile. I am interested,
    however, in the size and conscience of the men who handle them, and
    what I object to is that some corporation men are taking "joy-rides"
    in their corporations.

Time and time again men were reminded of the great speeches of Lincoln and
thought they saw his fine spirit breathing through sentences like these:

    Gentlemen, we are not working for to-day, we are not working for our
    own interest, we are all going to pass away. But think of what is
    involved. Here are the tradition, and the fame, and the prosperity,
    and the purity, and the peace of a great nation involved. For the time
    being we are that nation, but the generations that are behind us are
    pointing us forward to the path and saying:

    "Remember the great traditions of the American people," and all those
    unborn children that will constitute the generations that are ahead
    will look back to us, either at those who serve them or at those who
    betray them. Will any man in such circumstances think it worthy to
    stand and not try to do what is possible in so great a cause, to save
    a country, to purify a polity, to set up vast reforms which will
    increase the happiness of mankind? God forbid that I should either be
    daunted or turned away from a great task like this.

Speaking of the candidate who opposed him:

    I have been informed that he has the best of me in looks. Now, it is
    not always the useful horse that is most beautiful. If I had a big
    load to be drawn some distance I should select one of those big,
    shaggy kinds of horses, not much for beauty but strong of pull.

On one occasion, when he had been talking about his and Mr. Lewis's
different conceptions of the "constitutional governor", and telling his
audience how he, if elected, would interpret the election as a mandate
from the people to assist in and direct legislation in the interests of
the people of New Jersey at large, he paused an instant and then in those
incisive tones and with that compression of the lips which marked his more
bellicose words, he said curtly: "If you don't want that kind of a
governor, don't elect me."

Excerpts from the speeches cannot do justice to this remarkable campaign,
which Woodrow Wilson himself, after he had been twice elected President of
the United States, considered the most satisfying of his political
campaigns, because the most systematic and basic. As Presidential
candidate he had to cover a wide territory and touch only the high spots
in the national issues, but in his gubernatorial campaign he spoke in
every county of the state and in some counties several times, and his
speeches grew out of each other and were connected with each other in a
way that made them a popular treatise on self-government. He used no
technical jargon and none of the stereotyped bombast of the usual
political campaign. He had a theme which he wanted to expound to the
people of New Jersey, which theme was the nature and character of free
government, how it had been lost in New Jersey through the complicated
involvements of invisible government, manipulated from behind the scenes
by adroit representatives of the corporate interest working in conjunction
with the old political machines; how under this clever manipulation
legislators had ceased to represent the electorate and were, as he called
them, only "errand boys" to do the bidding of the real rulers of New
Jersey, many of whom were not even residents of the state, and how free
government could be restored to New Jersey through responsible leadership.
He was making an application to practical politics of the fundamental
principles of responsible government which he had analyzed in his earlier
writings, including the book on "Congressional Government." Beneath the
concrete campaign issues in New Jersey he saw the fundamental principles
of Magna Charta and the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence
and the Constitution of the United States. His trained habit of thinking
through concrete facts to basic principles was serving him well in this
campaign; his trained habit of clear exposition in the Princeton lecture
hall was serving him well. People heard from him political speaking of a
new kind; full of weighty instruction and yet so simply phrased and so
aptly illustrated that the simplest minded could follow the train of
reasoning; profound in political philosophy and yet at every step
humanized by one who believed government the most human of things because
concerned with the happiness and welfare of individuals; sometimes he
spoke in parables, homely anecdotes so applied that all could understand;
sometimes he was caustic when he commented on the excessive zeal of
corporations for strict constitutionalism, meaning thereby only such
legislation and judicial interpretations as would defend their property
rights--how they had secured those rights being a question not discussed
by these gentlemen; sometimes, though not frequently, there would be
purple patches of eloquence, particularly when descanting on the long
struggle of the inarticulate masses for political representation.

One of the surprises of the campaign to those who had known him as an
orator of classic eloquence was the comparative infrequency of rhetorical
periods. It was as if he were now too deeply engaged with actualities to
chisel and polish his sentences. Of the many anecdotes which he told
during the campaign one of his favourites was of the Irishman digging a
cellar, who when asked what he was doing said: "I'm letting the darkness
out." Woodrow Wilson told the people of New Jersey that he was "letting
the darkness out" of the New Jersey political situation. "Pitiless
publicity" was one of his many phrases coined in the campaign which
quickly found currency, not only in New Jersey but throughout the country,
for presently the United States at large began to realize that what was
going on in New Jersey was symbolical of the situation throughout the
country, a tremendous struggle to restore popular government to the
people. Since the founders of the Republic expounded free institutions to
the first electorates of this country there had probably been no political
campaign which went so directly to the roots of free representative
government and how to get it as that campaign which Woodrow Wilson
conducted in New Jersey in the autumn of 1910.




CHAPTER VII

THE CRISIS OF THE CAMPAIGN


The crisis of the campaign came when George L. Record, Progressive leader
in the ranks of the Republican party in Hudson County, uttered a ringing
challenge to the Democratic candidate to debate the issues of the campaign
with him. The challenge contained an alternative proposition that the
Democratic candidate either meet Mr. Record in joint debate in various
parts of the state or that he answer certain questions with reference to
the control of the Democratic party by what Mr. Record called the "Old
Guard." Mr. Record's letter and challenge created a profound sensation
throughout the state and brought hope and comfort to the ranks of the
Republican party.

Record emphasized the Old Guard's control of the convention at which
Wilson was nominated, basing most of his questions upon this character of
political control, and openly challenging Wilson, the Democratic
candidate, to say whether the elements that were dominant at Trenton in
the Convention would be permitted by him, in case of his election, to
influence his action as governor.

For several days after the letter containing the challenge reached the
Democratic candidate, there was a great deal of apprehension in the ranks
of the Democratic party lest the candidate should decide to ignore the
Record challenge, thus giving aid and comfort to the enemies of
progressivism in the state, or, on the other hand, that he would accept it
and thus give Mr. Record, who was a most resourceful public speaker and a
leading exponent of liberalism in the state, a chance to outwit him in
public debate. The latter practically demanded of the Democratic candidate
that he repudiate not only the Old Guard but the active management of his
campaign which had been taken over by James R. Nugent, one of the leaders
of Essex County, who daily accompanied the Democratic candidate on his
tour of the state. For a time it looked as if Doctor Wilson would ignore
entirely the Record challenge. It was plainly evident from all sides that
what appeared to be his reluctance to take a stand in the matter had
turned support away at a time when the sentiment of the state was rapidly
flowing his way.

I accompanied the candidate on an automobile tour of the state and in our
little talks I sought to find out, in a diplomatic way, just how his mind
was running on the Record challenge and how he intended to meet it. In the
automobile with us on this tour was James R. Nugent, then the state
chairman of the Democratic Committee. I ascertained that even he knew
nothing about the Princetonian's attitude toward the Record challenge. A
significant remark which the candidate dropped "between meetings" gave me
the first intimation that the Democratic candidate was, to use a baseball
expression, "on to the Record curve" and that he would answer him in so
emphatic and overwhelming a fashion that the Republican campaign would
never entirely recover from the blow.

One day while we were seated in the tonneau of the automobile discussing
the Record challenge, Mr. Wilson pointed his finger at Jim Nugent and
said, very significantly: "I intend to reply to Mr. Record, but I am sure
that it will hurt the feelings of this fine fellow."

A few days later, without consulting any one, Mr. Wilson replied to
Record's challenge. It was a definite, clean-cut, unequivocal repudiation
of the Old Guard's control of the Democratic party, and a convincing
answer to every question that had been put to him. It rang true. Old-line
Republicans, after reading this conclusive reply, shook their heads and
said, regretfully, "Damn Record; the campaign's over."

It was plainly evident that the crisis of the campaign had been safely
passed and that Mr. Wilson was on his way to the governorship.

In his challenge Mr. Record had addressed to Doctor Wilson nineteen
questions. Mr. Wilson's reply was in part as follows:

    You wish to know what my relations would be with the Democrats whose
    power and influence you fear should I be elected governor,
    particularly in such important matters as appointments and the signing
    of bills, and I am very glad to tell you. If elected I shall not
    either in the matter of appointments to office, or assent to
    legislation, or in shaping any part of the policy of my
    administration, submit to the dictation of any person, or persons,
    "special interests," or organizations. I will always welcome advice
    and suggestions from any citizens, whether boss, leader, organization
    man, or plain citizen, and I shall confidently seek the advice of
    influential and disinterested men representative of the communities
    and disconnected from political organizations entirely; but all
    suggestions and all advice will be considered on its merits and no
    additional weight will be given to any man's advice because of his
    exercising, or supposing that he exercises, some sort of political
    influence or control. I should deem myself for ever disgraced should
    I, in even the slightest degree, coöperate in any such system. I
    regard myself as pledged to the regeneration of the Democratic party.

Mr. Record also inquired: "Do you admit that the boss system exists as I
have described it?" "If so, how do you propose to abolish it?"

Mr. Wilson said:

    Of course I admit it. Its existence is notorious. I have made it my
    business for many years to observe and understand that system, and I
    hate it as thoroughly as I understand it. You are quite right in
    saying that the system is bipartisan; that it constitutes "the most
    dangerous condition in the public life of our state and nation to-
    day"; and that it has virtually, for the time being, "destroyed
    representative government and in its place set up a government of
    privilege." I would propose to abolish it by the reforms suggested in
    the Democratic platform, by the election to office of men who will
    refuse to submit to it, and who will lend all their energies to break
    it up, and by pitiless publicity.

Still hoping to corner the Governor, Mr. Record named the bosses:

    In referring to the Board of Guardians, do you mean such Republican
    leaders as Baird, Murphy, Kean, and Stokes? Wherein do the relations
    to the special interests of such leaders differ from the relation to
    the same interests of such Democratic leaders as Smith, Nugent, and
    Davis?

Mr. Wilson, answering this, said:

    I refer to the men you name. They [meaning Baird, Murphy, Kean,
    Stokes] differ from the others in this, that they are in control of
    the government of the state while the others are not, and cannot be if
    the present Democratic ticket is elected.

In reply to Mr. Record's question: "Will you join me in denouncing the
Democratic 'overlords' as parties to a political boss system?" Doctor
Wilson replied: "Certainly I will join you in denouncing them--or any one
of either party who attempts any outrages against the Government and
public morality."

At this time I was in close touch with the managers of the Wilson
campaign, including Smith, Nugent, and Davis. While they admired the fine
strategy that lay back of the Democratic candidate's reply to Mr. Record,
they looked upon it as a mere gesture upon the part of Mr. Wilson and
scorned to believe that his reply to Mr. Record constituted a challenge to
their leadership. They did not show any evidences of dismay or chagrin at
the courageous attitude taken by Doctor Wilson. They simply smiled and
shrugged their shoulders and said: "This is a great campaign play."




CHAPTER VIII

THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN


The final meeting of the gubernatorial campaign was held in a large
auditorium in Newark, New Jersey, where the last appeal was made by the
Democratic candidate. It was a meeting filled with emotionalism such as I
had never seen in a campaign before. The Democratic candidate, Woodrow
Wilson, had covered every section of the state and it was easy for even
the casual observer to note the rising tide in his favour. The campaign
had, indeed, become a crusade; his eloquence and sledge-hammer blows at
the opposition having cut our party lines asunder. I was present at the
final meeting and took my place in the wings of the theatre or auditorium,
alongside of Senator Smith, the Democratic chieftain who a few weeks
before had, in a masterful fashion, manipulated the workings of the
Convention at Trenton in such a way as to make the Doctor's nomination
possible. Mr. Wilson's speech on this occasion was a profession of faith
in the people, in the plain people, those "whose names never emerged into
the headlines of newspapers." When he said in a delightful sort of banter
to his audience, "I want you to take a sportsman's chance on me," there
went up a shout of approval which could be heard as far as the hills of
old Bergen.

The peroration of his final speech, spoken in a tone of voice that seemed
not only to reach every ear but, in fact, to touch every heart, was as
follows:

    We have begun a fight that, it may be, will take many a generation to
    complete, the fight against privilege; but you know that men are not
    put into this world to go the path of ease. They are put into this
    world to go the path of pain and struggle. No man would wish to sit
    idly by and lose the opportunity to take part in such a struggle. All
    through the centuries there has been this slow, painful struggle
    forward, forward, up, up, a little at a time, along the entire
    incline, the interminable way which leads to the perfection of force,
    to the real seat of justice and honour.

    There are men who have fallen by the way; blood without stint has been
    shed; men have sacrificed everything in this sometimes blind, but
    always instinctive and constant struggle, and America has undertaken
    to lead the way; America has undertaken to be the haven of hope, the
    opportunity for all men.

    Don't look forward too much. Don't look at the road ahead of you in
    dismay. Look at the road behind you. Don't you see how far up the hill
    we have come? Don't you see what those low and damp miasmatic levels
    were from which we have slowly led the way? Don't you see the rows of
    men come, not upon the lower level, but upon the upper, like the rays
    of the rising sun? Don't you see the light starting and don't you see
    the light illuminating all nations?

    Don't you know that you are coming more and more into the beauty of
    its radiance? Don't you know that the past is for ever behind us, that
    we have passed many kinds of evils no longer possible, that we have
    achieved great ends and have almost seen their fruition in free
    America? Don't forget the road that you have trod, but, remembering it
    and looking back for reassurance, look forward with confidence and
    charity to your fellow men one at a time as you pass them along the
    road, and see those who are willing to lead you, and say, "We do not
    believe you know the whole road. We know that you are no prophet, we
    know that you are no seer, but we believe that you know the direction
    and are leading us in that direction, though it costs you your life,
    provided it does not cost you your honour."

    And then trust your guides, imperfect as they are, and some day, when
    we all are dead, men will come and point at the distant upland with a
    great shout of joy and triumph and thank God that there were men who
    undertook to lead in the struggle. What difference does it make if we
    ourselves do not reach the uplands? We have given our lives to the
    enterprise. The world is made happier and humankind better because we
    have lived.

At the end of this memorable and touching speech old Senator James Smith,
seated alongside of me, pulled me by the coat and, in a voice just above a
whisper and with tears in his eyes, said: "That is a great man, Mr.
Tumulty. He is destined for great things."

It did not seem possible on this memorable night that within a few days
these two Democratic chieftains would be challenging each other and
engaging in a desperate struggle to decide the question of Democratic
leadership in the state.




CHAPTER IX

A PARTY SPLIT


All the prophecies and predictions of the political seers and philosophers
of New Jersey, many of them of course feeling their own partisan pulse,
were annihilated and set adrift by the happenings in New Jersey on the
first Tuesday in November, 1910. Woodrow Wilson, college professor, man of
mystery, political recluse, the nominee of the most standpat Democratic
convention of many years, had been chosen the leader of the people of the
state by the unprecedented majority of 39,000, and was wearing the laurels
of victory. The old bosses and leaders chuckled and smiled; they were soon
to have a Roman holiday under the aegis of the Wilson Administration.

There were many surprises in the Wilson victory. The Democrats awoke on
the day after the election to find that they had not only won the
governorship of the state, but their joy was unbounded to find that they
had captured the Lower House of the Legislature that would have the
election, under the preferential primary system just adopted, of a United
States senator. Therein lay the fly in the ointment. Never in their
wildest dreams or vain imaginings did the leaders of the Democratic party
believe that there was the slightest chance even under the most favourable
circumstances of carrying a majority of the vote of the state for the
Democratic choice, James E. Martine, of Plainfield.

The suggestion that it was possible to elect a Democrat to the United
States Senate was considered a form of political heresy. The nomination
for the Senate had been thrown about the state until torn and tattered
almost beyond repair; it was finally taken up and salvaged by that sturdy
old Democrat of Union County, Jim Martine. Even I had received the offer
of the senatorial toga, but the one who brought the nomination to me was
rudely cast out of my office. The question was: What would be the attitude
of the new Democratic leader, Woodrow Wilson, toward the preferential
choice, Martine? Would the vote at the election be considered as having
the full virtue and vigour of a solemn referendum or was it to be
considered as Senator Smith would have it, a sort of practical joke
perpetrated upon the electors? Soon the opinion of the people of the state
began to express itself in no uncertain way, demanding the carrying out of
the "solemn covenant" of the election, only to be answered by the
challenge of Senator Smith and his friends to enter the field against
Martine, the choice at the election.

This business pitchforked the Governor-elect prematurely into the rough-
and-tumble of "politics as she is," not always a dainty game. As I review
in retrospect this famous chapter of state history, which, because of the
subsequent supreme distinction of one of the parties to the contest,
became a chapter in national history, I realize the almost pathetic
situation of Mr. Wilson. He had called himself an amateur in politics, and
such he was in the practical details and involutions of the great American
game, though in his campaign he had shown himself a master of political
debate. In the ordinary course of events he would have been allowed two
months between his election and inauguration to begin an orderly
adjustment to the new life, to make a gradual transition from the comely
proprieties of an academic chair to the catch-as-catch-can methods of the
political wrestling mat, to get acquainted with the men and problems of
the new career. But the Smith-Martine affair gave birth prematurely to an
immediate occasion for a fight.

As president of Princeton, Doctor Wilson had proved that he was not averse
to a fight when a fight was necessary and when it was distinctly his
affair, but he may well have paused to consider whether the Smith-Martine
business was his affair. One of his favourite stories in later years was
of the Irishman who entered a saloon and seeing two men in a tangle of
fists and writhing legs and bloody heads on the floor at the rear of the
saloon, turned to the barkeeper and asked: "Is this a private fight, or
can anybody git into it?" A more politic man than Woodrow Wilson and one
less sensitive to moral duty, might well have argued that this contest was
the business of the Legislature, not of the Governor. Many a governor-
elect would have avoided the issue on this unquestionably sound legal
principle, and friends in Princeton were in fact advising Mr. Wilson to
precisely this course, the course of neutrality. It would not be strange
if neutrality, aloofness, had presented a rather attractive picture at
times to Mr. Wilson's mind. Why should he gratuitously take a partisan
position between the factions which would inevitably win for him the
enmity of a strong element within the party? Which would also win for him
the unpleasant reputation of ingratitude? For though he had at the first
overtures from Senator Smith and his friends made it as clear as language
can make anything that he could accept the nomination only with the
explicit understanding that acceptance should establish no obligations of
political favours to anybody, it would be impossible to make it appear
that opposition to Smith's darling desire to become senator was not an
ungracious return to the man who had led the forces which had nominated
Wilson at Trenton.

On the other hand, there was his distinct pledge to the people during his
campaign, that if they elected him governor he would make himself the
leader of the party, would broadly and not with pettifogging legalism
interpret his constitutional relationship to the Legislature, would
undertake to assist in legislative action, and not wait supinely for the
Legislature to do something, and then sign or veto the thing done.
Moreover, he had insisted on the principle of the preferential primary as
one means by which the people should participate in their own government
and convey an expression of their will and purpose to the law-making body.
The people had voted for Martine. The fact that Senator Smith had scorned
to have his name placed on the ballot, the fact that human imagination
could picture a stronger senator from New Jersey than genial "Jim" Martine
did not affect the argument. A great majority had voted for Martine and
for nobody else. Was the use of the preferential primary for the first
time in the selection of a United States senator to be ignored, and all
the arguments that Candidate Wilson and others had made in behalf of the
system to be taken "in a Pickwickian sense," as not meaning anything?

There was a real dilemma doubtless much more acutely realized by the
Governor-elect than by the hot-heads, including myself, who were clamorous
for an immediate proclamation of support of Martine, on progressive
principles, and for an ultimatum of war-to-the-knife against Smith and the
old crowd.

It seemed as if Mr. Wilson were hesitating and holding off, reluctant to
accept the gage of battle thrown down by the challenge of the Smith wing.
The leading Democratic and Independent journals of the state were most
insistent that immediate proof be given by Governor-elect Wilson of his
leadership and control over the party and that a test should be made as to
which influence, reactionary or progressive, was to control the destinies
of our party in the state. Those of us who had followed the candidate
throughout the campaign and who had been heartened by his progressive
attitude were sorely disappointed at his failure immediately to act. It
was painfully evident to us that behind the scenes at Princeton the new
governor's friends, particularly Colonel Harvey, were urging upon him
cautious and well-considered action and what mayhap might be called "a
policy of watchful waiting," picturing to him the insurmountable
difficulties that would lie in his path in case he exercised his
leadership in the matter of Martine's selection to the United States
Senate. They suggested that the vote for Martine had no binding force;
that it was a mere perfunctory expression of preference in the matter of
the United States senatorship which the Legislature was free to ignore.
The only man, therefore, who could make the vote effective was the
Governor-elect himself. What he would do in these circumstances was for
days after the election a matter of perplexing doubt to his many friends.
Disappointment and chagrin at the candidate's silence brooded over the
ranks of the progressives of the state. In my law office in Jersey City I
tried to convince those who came to confer with me regarding the matter
that they must be patient; that, ultimately, everything would be all right
and that Doctor Wilson would soon assert his leadership over the party and
take his proper place at the head of those who worked to make the
preferential vote an effective instrumentality. Frankly, though I did not
give expression to my doubts, I was profoundly and deeply disappointed at
the apparently hesitant, uncertain attitude of the Governor-elect. Feeling
certain that popular opinion would be with him in case he decided to lead
in this struggle, I was convinced that the delay in announcing his
attitude toward the Smith-Nugent "defi" was dampening the ardour and
enthusiasm of many of his friends.

The progressive Democrats of the state waited with patience the word of
command and counsel from the Princeton professor to initiate the fight
that would settle for all time in the state of New Jersey the question
whether the referendum on the question of the election of United States
senators should be treated as "a scrap of paper," or whether it was to be
upheld and vindicated by the action of the Legislature. No direct word
came to me of the Governor-elect's attitude on this vital question.
Rumours of his position toward Senator Smith's candidacy filtered "through
the lines" from Princeton; various stories and intimations that seemed to
indicate that the Governor-elect would allow Martine's selection to go by
default; that he would not interfere in any way to carry out the mandate
of the election.

Things were in this unsatisfactory condition when to my surprise I
received a call in my modest Jersey City law offices from the Governor-
elect. Knowing him as I know him, I can see that in his deliberate fashion
he was taking testimony from both sides and slowly arriving at his own
decision. Having heard from the cautious who counselled neutrality, he was
now seeking the arguments of the impetuous who demanded action and wanted
it "hot off the bat." But at that time, not knowing him as I now know him,
he seemed, in this interview, to be vacillating between two opinions, for
he did what I have often known him to do subsequently: stated with
lucidity the arguments of the other side, and with the air of one quite
open-minded, without opinions of his own, seemed to seek my arguments in
rebuttal. I was sorely disappointed by what then seemed to me his negative
attitude, so unlike the militant debater whom I had come to admire in the
campaign which had recently been brought to a brilliant and victorious
close. In my youthful impetuosity I felt that we had been deceived in our
man, a bold talker but timid in action. I simply did not then know the man
and the mixed elements in him. Later, in close association, I was to see
this phase of him not infrequently, the canny Scot, listening without
comment and apparently with mind to let to conflicting arguments while his
own mind was slowly moving to its own position, where it would stand fixed
and immovable as Gibraltar.

Almost as if it were an academic question, with which he had no personal
concern, he propounded the alternatives: Should he lead the fight against
Senator Smith, or should he stand aloof and permit the Legislature to act
without any suggestion from him? He summarized the arguments of his
friends at Princeton who were advising him to steer clear of this fight
and not permit himself to be drawn into it by young, impetuous people like
myself. He said that certain overtures and suggestions of compromises had
been made to him by Senator Smith's friends, to the effect that if he
would not play a leading part in the fight and allow the Legislature to
act without interference from him, Senator Smith and his friends in the
state would agree not to oppose his legislative programme at the coming
session. It was further suggested that Senator Smith had the necessary
votes to elect himself and that it would be futile to attempt to elect Jim
Martine; and that his intervention in this family quarrel would result in
a bitter and humiliating defeat for him at the very outset of his
administration. When the Governor-elect had concluded this preliminary
statement, I was depressed and disappointed. I did not think there should
be a moment's hesitation on his part in at once accepting the challenge so
defiantly addressed to him by the Democratic bosses of the state.

Frankly, I laid the whole case before him in words to this effect: "My
dear Doctor Wilson, there is no way I can better serve you than by frankly
dealing with the question. Your friends away off in Princeton probably do
not know how for years our party and its destinies have been in the hands
of these very men, enemies of liberalism in New Jersey, who by your
silence or indifference as to the United States senatorship are to be
given a new lease on life. The issue involved in this fight is fundamental
and goes far beyond the senatorship. The action you take will have a far-
reaching effect upon our party's fortunes and no one can calculate the
effect it will undoubtedly have on your own political future. In urging
you not to take part in this fight your friends are acting unwisely. You
cannot afford not to fight and not to have an immediate test of your
leadership in this matter. The question of Mr. Martine's fitness, as your
friends urge, is not an issue seriously to be considered. 47,454 votes in
the state have decided that matter and you cannot reverse their verdict.
Your friends have placed too much emphasis on Martine's alleged unfitness
and too little on the duty you owe the party and the state as _leader_."

I called to his attention the fact that men like myself had been heartened
and encouraged by his speeches in the campaign; how we felt that at last
we had found in him a leader, bold and fearless, and that now, when the
first real test of leadership came, it appeared that we were to be
disappointed and that by his silence and inaction he would permit Senator
Smith to win and allow Martine, the popular choice, to be defeated, thus
setting aside the verdict of the election. He listened intently but
without comment to all I had to say. Proceeding with my argument, I said:
"The people of New Jersey accepted your word and, to employ your own
phrase, 'took a sportsman's chance on you' and they must not be
disappointed. Your failure to make this fight will mean that you have not
only surrendered your leadership as governor in this matter, but by the
same act you will have abdicated your leadership in favour of the Old
Guard all along the line. They have set a trap for you, and I know you
will not permit yourself to be caught in it." In conclusion I said: "They
say they will support your reform programme. What assurance have you that,
having defeated you in this your first big fight, they will not turn on
you and defeat your whole legislative programme? As governor, you have the
power to lead us to a great victory in this vital matter. Exercise it now,
and opinion throughout the state will strongly and enthusiastically
support you. You have but to announce your willingness to lead and the
people of the state will rally to your standard. The fight, in any event,
will be made and we wish you to lead it. This is really the first step to
the Presidency. That is what is really involved. Not only the people of
New Jersey but the people of America are interested in this fight. They
are clamouring for leadership, and I am sure you are the man to lead, and
that you will not fail."

When the Governor-elect rose to leave my office, he turned to me and
asked, still in a non-committal manner, whether in my opinion we could win
the fight in case he should decide to enter upon it. I at once assured him
that while the various political machines of the state would oppose him at
every turn, their so-called organizations were made of cardboard and that
they would immediately disintegrate and fall the moment he assumed
leadership and announced that the fight was on.

In his own time and by his own processes Mr. Wilson arrived at his
decision. It was the first of my many experiences of his deliberative
processes in making up his mind and of the fire and granite in him after
he had made his decision. He informed me that he would support Martine and
use all his force, official and personal, to have the Legislature accept
the preferential primary as the people's mandate.

With prudence and caution, with a political sense that challenged the
admiration of every practical politician in the state, the Princetonian
began to set the stage for the preliminary test. There was nothing
dramatic about these preliminaries. Quickly assuming the offensive, he
went about the task of mobilizing his political forces in the most
patient, practical way. No statement to the people of his purposes to
accept the challenge of the Democratic bosses was made by him. Certain
things in the way of accommodation were necessary to be done before this
definite step was taken. It was decided that until the Governor-elect had
conferred with the Democratic bosses in an effort to persuade them that
the course they had adopted was wrong, it would be best not to make an
immediate issue by the Governor-elect's announcement. We thought that by
tactfully handling Smith and Davis we would be able by this method of
conciliation to convince their friends, at least those in the party
organization, that we were not ruthlessly bent upon leading a revolt, but
that we were attempting peacefully a settlement that would prevent a split
in our party ranks.

We were convinced that in the great body of organization Democrats there
were many fine men who resented this attempt of the bosses to force Jim
Smith again on the party and that there were many who silently wished us
success, although they were not free to come to our side in open espousal.
Thus we began patiently to build our back-fire in the ranks of the
Democratic organization itself, to unhorse the Essex boss.

The first thing to carry out the programme was a visit paid to the sick
room of the Democratic boss of the Hudson wing, Bob Davis, who lay
dangerously ill in his modest home on Grove Street, Jersey City. The visit
itself of the Governor-elect to the home of the stricken boss had a marked
psychological effect in conciliating and winning over to our side the
active party workers in the Davis machine. To many of the privates in the
ranks the boss was a veritable hero and they witnessed with pleasure the
personal visit of the new Governor-elect to the boss at his home and
looked upon it as a genuine act of obeisance and deference to their
stricken leader. They thought this a generous and a big thing to do, and
so it naturally turned their sympathies to the Governor-elect. It gave
further proof to them that the man elected Governor was not "high-browish"
or inclined to fight unless he had previously laid all his cards on the
table. We also realized that to have ignored the boss would have been to
give strength and comfort to the enemy, and so we deliberately set out to
cultivate his friends in a spirit of honourable and frank dealing. The
visit to the boss was a part of this plan. The meeting between these two
men--one, the Governor-elect and until recently the president of
Princeton; the other, a Democratic boss, old and battle-scarred--in the
little sick room of the humble home, was a most interesting affair and at
times a most touching and pathetic one. Both men were frank in dealing
with each other. There was no formality or coldness in the meeting. The
Governor-elect quickly placed the whole situation before the boss, showing
how the Democratic party had for many years advocated the very system--the
election of United States senators by the people--that the Democratic
bosses of the state were now attacking and repudiating. Briefly, he
sketched the disastrous effects upon our party and its prestige in the
state and the nation if a Democratic legislature should be the first,
after advocating it, to cast it aside in order to satisfy the selfish
ambition and vanity of one of the Old Guard. In a sincere manly fashion,
so characteristic of him, Boss Davis then proceeded to state _his_ case.
Briefly, it was this: He had given his solemn promise and had entered into
a gentleman's agreement with Smith to deliver to him the twelve
legislative votes from Hudson. He would not violate his agreement.
Laughingly, he said to the Governor-elect: "If the Pope of Rome, of whose
Church I am a member, should come to this room to urge me to change my
attitude, I would refuse to do so. I have given my promise and you would
not have me break it, would you, Doctor?" With real feeling and a show of
appreciation of the boss's frankness and loyalty to his friends, the
Governor-elect quickly replied: "Of course, I would not have you break
your promise, but you must not feel aggrieved if I shall find it necessary
to fight you and Smith in the open for the Hudson votes." "Go on, Doctor,"
said the sick man, "I am a game sport and I am sure that with you there
will be no hitting below the belt." And thus the first conference between
the Governor-elect and the political boss ended.

Mr. Wilson's next visit was to Senator Smith himself at the Senator's home
in Newark, a meeting entirely friendly in character and frank in
expressions of the unalterable determination of the two men, of Senator
Smith not to withdraw from the race, of Doctor Wilson to oppose his
candidacy and place the issue before the people of the state. Senator
Smith with engaging candour gave Mr. Wilson his strong personal reasons
for wishing to return to the United States Senate: he said that he had
left the Senate under a cloud due to the investigations of the Sugar Trust
and that for the sake of his children he wanted to reinstate himself in
the Senate. Mr. Wilson expressed his sympathy for this motive, more
appealing than mere personal ambition, but declared that he could not
permit his sympathy as an individual to interfere with his duty as he
conceived it, as an official pledged by all his public utterances to
support progressive principles, among which was the preferential primary
system, and committed to a course of active leadership in matters which
concerned the state at large, in which category the selection of a United
States senator certainly fell. He made a personal appeal to the Senator
for the sake of the party to forego his desire and by a noble act of
renunciation to win the regard of all the citizens of the state, saying:
"Why, Senator, you have it in your power to become instantly, the biggest
man in the state." But the Senator was firm. And so, though the visit was
conducted with the dignity and courtesy characteristic of both men, it
ended with their frank acknowledgment to each other that from now on there
existed between them a state of war.

Returning to Princeton from Newark, the formal announcement of the
Governor's entrance into the fight was made and the contest for the
senatorship and the leadership of the Democratic party was on. The
announcement was as follows:

    WOODROW WILSON'S CHALLENGE TO THE BOSSES
    Friday Evening, Dec. 9,1910.

    The question who should be chosen by the incoming legislature of the
    state to occupy the seat in the Senate of the United States which will
    presently be made vacant by the expiration of the term of Mr. Kean is
    of such vital importance to the people of the state, both as a
    question of political good faith and as a question of genuine
    representation in the Senate, that I feel constrained to express my
    own opinion with regard to it in terms which cannot be misunderstood.
    I had hoped that it would not be necessary for me to speak; but it is.

    I realize the delicacy of taking any part in the discussion of the
    matter. As Governor of New Jersey I shall have no part in the choice
    of a Senator. Legally speaking, it is not my duty even to give advice
    with regard to the choice. But there are other duties besides legal
    duties. The recent campaign has put me in an unusual position. I
    offered, if elected, to be the political spokesman and adviser of the
    people. I even asked those who did not care to make their choice of
    governor upon that understanding not to vote for me. I believe that
    the choice was made upon that undertaking; and I cannot escape the
    responsibility involved. I have no desire to escape it. It is my duty
    to say, with a full sense of the peculiar responsibility of my
    position, what I deem it to be the obligation of the Legislature to do
    in this gravely important matter.

    I know that the people of New Jersey do not desire Mr. James Smith,
    Jr., to be sent again to the Senate. If he should be, he will not go
    as their representative. The only means I have of knowing whom they do
    desire to represent them is the vote at the recent primaries, where
    48,000 Democratic voters, a majority of the whole number who voted at
    the primaries, declared their preference for Mr. Martine, of Union
    County. For me that vote is conclusive. I think it should be for every
    member of the Legislature.

    Absolute good faith in dealing with the people, an unhesitating
    fidelity to every principle avowed, is the highest law of political
    morality under a constitutional government. The Democratic party has
    been given a majority in the Legislature; the Democratic voters of the
    state have expressed their preference under a law advocated and
    supported by the opinion of their party, declared alike in platforms
    and in enacted law. It is clearly the duty of every Democratic
    legislator who would keep faith with the law of the state with the
    avowed principles of his party to vote for Mr. Martine. It is my duty
    to advocate his election--to urge it by every honourable means at my
    command.

Immediately the work of organizing our forces for the fight was set in
motion. I had been designated by the Governor-elect to handle the fight in
Hudson County, the Davis stronghold. Meetings were arranged for at what
were considered the strategic points in the fight: Jersey City and Newark.
The announcement of the Governor-elect's acceptance of the challenge had
given a thrill to the whole state and immediately the reaction against the
Old Guard's attempt to discredit the primary choice was evident. The
bitterness in the ranks of the contesting factions began to express itself
in charges and counter-charges that were made. Speeches for and against
the candidates were addressed to the ears of the unwary voter. The state
was soon up in arms. There was no doubt of the attitude of the people.
This was made plain in so many ways that our task was to impress this
opinion upon the members of the Legislature, whose vote, in the last
analysis, would be the determining factor in this contest. While we were
laying down a barrage in the way of organization work and making
preparations for our meetings throughout the state, the Governor-elect was
conferring nightly with members of the Legislature at the University Club
in New York. From day to day could be observed the rising tide in favour
of our cause, and slowly its effect upon the members of the Legislature
was made manifest. The first meeting in the senatorial contest was held in
Jersey City. As chairman of the committee, I had arranged the details for
this first speech of the Governor-elect. I had adopted a plan in making
the arrangements that I felt would remove from the minds of the
organization workers, to whom we desired to appeal, the idea that this was
a revolt or secessionist movement in the ranks of the Democratic party.
The committee in charge of the meeting had selected the finest, cleanest
men in our party's ranks to preside over and take part in the meeting.

There was never such an outpouring of people. Men and women from outside
the state, and, particularly, men and women from New York and Connecticut,
had come all the way to New Jersey to witness this first skirmish in the
political upheaval that was soon to take place. The metropolitan dailies
had sent their best men to write up the story and to give a "size-up" of
the new Governor-elect in fighting action. They were not disappointed. He
was in rare form. His speech was filled with epigrams that carried the
fight home to those upon whom we were trying to make an impression. When
he warned his friends not to be afraid of the machine which the bosses
controlled he said, with biting irony: "We do not fear their fortresses
[meaning the political machines] that frown and look down upon us from
their shining heights." Smiling deprecatingly and waving his hand, he
continued: "They are but made of paste-board and when you approach them
they fall at your very touch."

Ridiculing and belittling the power of the bosses, he called them "warts
upon the body politic." "It is not," said the new chief of Democracy, "a
capital process to cut off a wart. You don't have to go to the hospital
and take an anaesthetic. The thing can be done while you wait, and it is
being done. The clinic is open, and every man can witness the operation."

The meeting was a triumph and strikingly demonstrated the power of brain
and fine leadership over brawn and selfish politics.

The final appeal to the voters on the United States senatorship was made
in the heart of the enemy's country, the stronghold of the Smith-Nugent
faction at Newark, New Jersey. The same enthusiastic, whole-souled
response that characterized the Jersey City meeting was repeated. The same
defiant challenge to the Old Guard was uttered by the new Governor.
Sarcasm, bitter irony, delightful humour, and good-natured flings at the
Old Guard were found in this his final appeal. In a tone of voice that
carried the deep emotion he felt, he said, as his final word:

    Do you know what is true of the special interests at this moment! They
    have got all their baggage packed and they are ready to strike camp
    over night, provided they think it is profitable for them to come over
    to the Democratic party. They are waiting to come over bag and baggage
    and take possession of the Democratic party. Will they be welcome? Do
    you want them? I pray God we may never wake up some fine morning and
    find them encamped on our side.

The response was thrilling. The two meetings just held, one in Jersey City
and the other in Newark, convinced those of us in charge of the Martine
campaign that we had made the right impression in the state and, having
deeply aroused the voters, all we had to do was to harvest the crop, the
seed of which had been planted in the soil of public opinion by the
speeches the new Governor had made. It was plain that the machine crowd
was stunned and reeling from the frequent and telling blows that had been
so vigorously delivered by him. Suggestions of compromise came from the
enemy's ranks, but no armistice would be granted, except upon the basis of
an absolute and unconditional surrender. Offers and suggested proposals
from the Old Guard to the Governor-elect were thrust aside as valueless
and not worthy his consideration. There was nothing to do but play for a
"knock-out." Soon the full pressure of the opinion of the state began to
be felt. Members of the Legislature from the various counties began to
feel its influence upon them. Our ranks began to be strengthened by
additions from the other side. The Governor's speeches and his nightly
conferences were having their full effect. The bosses, now in panic, were
each day borne down by the news brought to them of the innumerable
defections in their quickly dwindling forces. However, the bosses showed a
bold front and declared that their man had the votes. But their confidence
waned as election day approached. Realizing the fact that we were dealing
with the best-trained minds in the Democratic party, we gave no news to
the outside world of the strength in number of our own ranks, knowing full
well that if we did so imprudent a thing, the active men in the ranks of
the enemy would pull every wire of influence and use every method of
threats and coercion to wean the votes away from us. We "stood pat" and
watched with interest every move made by the other side. In his final
statement before the joint meeting of the Legislature Smith boldly
announced his election to the Senate on the strength of the number of
legislative votes pledged to him, but those of us who were in the midst of
this political melee knew that he was licked and that he was only
whistling to keep up his courage.

In the meantime, the Governor-elect had tendered to me the post of
secretary to the Governor, and I accepted this office which brought me
into more intimate association with him and his plans.




CHAPTER X

EXIT THE OLD GUARD


The conferences and meetings in preparation for the great senatorial fight
having been concluded, the scene of activities was transferred to Trenton,
where shortly after the Inauguration plans were laid for the final battle.

Immediately upon the conclusion of the Inaugural ceremonies, the hand-to-
hand contests for the great prize and incidentally the leadership of the
Democrats, was on in full swing. At the beginning of the fight the bosses
counted upon the active support of the influential Democratic leaders
throughout the state, like Robert S. Hudspeth of Hudson County, Johnston
Cornish of Warren County, Edward E. Grosscup of Gloucester County, Barney
Gannon and Peter Daley of Middlesex County, old Doctor Barber of Warren
County, Otto Wittpenn of Hudson County, Billy French and Judge Westcott of
Camden, Dave Crater of Monmouth, and minor bosses or leaders in south and
middle Jersey. But in utter amazement they found that we had captured
these fine pieces of heavy political artillery and that through them we
had acquired and taken over some of the most valuable political salients
in the state.

A little incident in the campaign is worth reciting. In managing the
campaign I found that for some unaccountable reason the so-called Irish
vote of the state was massed solidly behind ex-Senator Smith and in bitter
opposition to Governor Wilson. We were constantly coming in contact with
these currents of opposition, and how to overcome them and bring the Irish
vote into our fold was the task that devolved upon me as the manager of
Martine's campaign. Seated in my office one day I recalled that years
before I had read in the Congressional Record an account of a speech
delivered in the United States Senate by James Smith, upholding in terms
of highest praise the famous Hay-Pauncefote Treaty. The speech in all its
details, particularly the argument it contained calling for closer
relations between the United States and Great Britain, was still fresh in
my memory. Evidently Senator Smith and his Irish friends had forgotten it,
for he was now trying to mobilize the Irish vote of the state in his
favour. On re-reading this speech of the old Senator, I smiled with
satisfaction, realizing the campaign use that could be made of it. After
considering the matter carefully, I sent for a devoted friend of mine, a
fine, clean-cut Irishman, who stood high in the ranks of the Clan-na-Gael
and other Irish societies in our county. After he had read the speech, we
discussed the method of using it, for we felt sure that our Irish friends,
when they became acquainted with this speech upon reading it, would not
find themselves in agreement with Smith's attitude toward England and the
Treaty. My friend consented to write letters to the leading papers,
particularly the Irish papers of the state, setting forth Smith's attitude
toward the Treaty. The effect upon the Irish vote was immediate and soon
resolutions began to be adopted by the various Irish societies throughout
the state, denouncing Smith for having advocated the much-despised "Anglo-
Saxon Alliance."

While I opposed Senator Smith in this contest there was nothing personally
antagonistic in my attitude. We were, I hope, friends throughout the
conflict, and many times since then we have discussed the events leading
up to Martine's election to the United States Senate. It was only a few
months ago, while seated at a table at the Shoreham Hotel in Washington,
that the old Senator, genial and debonair as ever, was discussing the
fights of the old days, and particularly the events leading up to his
defeat for the United States senatorship. In discussing the New Jersey
campaign, he told me of the use that had been made by "someone" in the
Wilson ranks of his Senate speech on the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty. He said
that his reason for making this speech was his sincere desire as an Irish-
American to bring about more amicable relations between the United States
and England, and as I listened to this frank recital I felt that, although
the use I had made of his speech was legitimate in the circumstances,
there was nothing to be proud of in having exploited the Senator's really
fine speech for political purposes.

The State House at Trenton on the night previous to the balloting for the
senatorship was a place of feverish activity. The Essex ex-Chieftain,
Smith, kept "open house" in the then famous Room 100 of the Trenton House.
The Governor-elect, calm and apparently undisturbed, but anxious and ready
for a contest, quietly moved about the Executive offices attending to
official matters.

We felt confident of the result of the vote if the members of the
Legislature were left free, but we were certain that every kind of
pressure would be put upon them to change the votes of the wobblers in our
ranks. All night long and until four or five o'clock in the morning the
Governor-elect and I remained in the Executive office, keeping in close
contact with our friends both by telephone and personal conference.
Senator Smith never knew it, but some of the men close to him and
participating in his own conferences on this fateful night hourly brought
to us information as to what would be the real line-up of his forces on
the day set for balloting. We found a spy in our own ranks--a leading
lawyer and politician from, my own county--who, while pretending to be our
friend, was supplying the enemy with what he thought was useful
information. We, however, were already aware of this gentleman's duplicity
and, although he never suspected it, whenever he left the Executive office
he was followed by a professional detective, who heard and reported to us
every bit of information he had supplied to our political foes.

On the night before the election the Smith-Nugent leaders had gathered
their forces and, headed by a band, paraded through the streets of
Trenton, passing in review before Senator Smith who stood upon the steps
of the Trenton House and greeted them in most generous fashion. The
purpose of this demonstration was obvious to the Governor-elect and his
friends. It was simply to give to the arriving legislators an impression
of great strength behind the Smith-Nugent forces.

On the morning of the balloting the corridors and lobby of the State House
were crowded with the henchmen of the Essex chieftain. The surface
indications were that Smith had the necessary number of votes, but to
those of us who were able accurately to analyze the situation it was
apparent that the froth would soon pass away. The parade and the
demonstration of the Nugent followers had deeply impressed some of the men
in our ranks, particularly the editor of a Trenton newspaper, who came to
the Executive offices and urged upon the Governor the publication of a
statement which he had prepared, filled with grandiloquent phrase, warning
the people of the state that the members of the Legislature were about to
be coerced and threatened by the strong-arm methods of the Smith-Nugent
organization.

Frankly, the suggestion which this Trenton editor made to the new Governor
impressed him. The Governor made certain changes in the statement and then
sent for me to read it, asking my advice upon it. The first test of my
official connection with the Governor was at hand. Upon reading the
editor's article I saw at once that its issuance would be most unwise, and
I frankly said so. My practical and political objection to it, however,
was that if published it would give to the people of the state the
impression that our forces were in a panic and that we, were in grave fear
of the result. I further argued that it was an attempt at executive
coercion of the Legislature that would meet with bitter resentment. I felt
that we had already won the fight; that the Legislature, which was the
jury in the case, was inclined to favour us if we did not seek to
influence its members by such foolish action as the Trenton editor
advised. The statement was not published.

I found in this little argument with the new Governor that he was open-
minded and anxious for advice and I thereafter felt free to discuss
matters with him in the frankest way.

The first ballot showed Martine leading heavily. In the following ballots
he gained strength at every count. The Legislature adjourned the first day
without reaching a decision. As we surveyed the field after the first
day's balloting it was clear to us that if we hoped to win the fight we
would have to have Hudson County's legislative vote. The Democratic boss,
Bob Davis, had died a few days previous, and had entrusted his affairs to
the hands of a fine, clean-cut, wholesome Irish-American, James Hennessy,
then chairman of the Hudson County Democratic Committee. He was one of the
squarest men I ever met in politics and had been an intimate associate of
my father in the old days in Jersey City. On the day of the final
balloting we were sorely pressed. When it seemed as if we had reached the
limit of our strength, it occurred to me that a final appeal to Hennessy
by the Governor might have some effect. We decided to send for Hennessy to
come to the Executive offices. It was clear from his attitude when he
arrived that, while his sympathies lay with us, he was bound in honour to
carry out the instructions of his chief and deliver the Hudson County vote
to Smith. The Governor, getting very close to him and discussing the
campaign in the most intimate way, told him that if Martine was rejected,
the political effect on our party's fortunes would be disastrous; that we
were sure we had the votes and that the next ballot would give proof of
this, and that it was only a question, to use a campaign phrase, of
"getting on the band wagon" and making Martine's nomination unanimous.
When the Governor concluded his talk, I turned to Hennessy in the most
familiar way, and spoke of the Governor's desire to elect Martine and of
the unselfish purpose he had in mind and how he, Hennessy, was blocking
the way. I said to him: "You have it in your power to do a big thing. You
may never have the chance again." He finally stood up and said to me:
"What do you want me to do?" I told him that we wanted him to go to the
Hudson delegates and give word that the "jig" was up and that they must
throw their support to Martine. Shortly after this meeting the Hudson
delegation met in caucus and agreed to support Martine.

When Smith and Nugent heard of this message they practically surrendered.
The balloting which began at ten o'clock was a mere formal affair for it
was plainly evident from the changes in the early balloting that Martine's
election was assured. Martine's election was a fact; and Woodrow Wilson
was the victor in the first battle for the Presidency.

I have stated that I am not proud of the way I used Senator Smith's speech
on the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty. We were fighting veterans in the political
game, men who knew all the tricks and who did not scruple to play any of
them. In the rough school of practical politics I had been taught that
"you must fight the devil with fire" and that it is as legitimate in
politics as in war to deceive the enemy about your resources. But we
conducted politics on higher levels during the eight years in the White
House, when my chief, no longer an amateur, taught me, by precept and
example, that effective fighting can be conducted without resort to the
tricks and duplicities of those who place political advantage above
principle. Woodrow Wilson made new rules for the game, and they were the
rules which men of honour adopt when conducting their private business on
principles of good faith and truth-telling.




CHAPTER XI

EXECUTIVE LEADERSHIP


The election of Martine having been settled and the preferential vote
having been validated through the courageous handling of a delicate
situation, the new Governor was firmly in the saddle. His leadership had
been tested and only the fragments of the Old Guard machine were left. The
road was thus cleared of all obstacles in his own party that might be put
in the way of his programme of constructive legislation.

Having delivered his first message, which contained a full and detailed
discussion of his whole programme, he applied himself with great energy
and industry to the task of preparing bills for introduction in the Senate
and House. Not content with the mere delivery of his message, he put
himself entirely at the disposal of the members of the Legislature and
industriously applied himself to the task of preparation until the
following measures: _Regulation of Public Utilities, Corrupt Practices
Act_, _Direct Primaries Act_, and the _Employers' Liability Act_, were in
shape to be introduced.

While his leadership was vindicated as a result of the Smith-Martine
fight, the contest had undoubtedly left many bitter scars and enmities
which soon manifested themselves in the unfriendly attitude of the Smith
men in the Legislature toward the new Governor and particularly toward his
programme of constructive legislation. For awhile after the election of
Martine they seemed subdued and cheerfully resigned to defeat; but when
the new Governor launched his legislative programme they began eagerly to
attack it in many subtle ways. While there were some members of this group
who honestly opposed the Governor's programme because of their
conservative tendencies, the majority of the opposition were bent upon
"putting it to sleep," because, forsooth, it bore the Wilson label. The
new Governor quickly grasped the full significance of the situation and
openly challenged the opposition. To accomplish his purpose, he did an
unprecedented thing. He invited the Democratic members of the Legislature
to meet him in the Supreme Court Room of the State House and there, face
to face, he laid before them various items of his programme and challenged
the opposition to lay their cards on the table. In the course of this
conference one of the leaders of the Smith-Nugent faction expressed his
dissatisfaction with the whole programme, challenging the new Governor's
right to be present at the conference; even intimating that his presence
was an unconstitutional act which might subject him to impeachment. The
new Governor, undisturbed by this criticism, turned to the gentleman who
had challenged his right to be present at the conference, and said:

    You can turn aside from the measure if you choose; you can decline to
    follow me; you can deprive me of office and turn away from me, but you
    cannot deprive me of power so long as I steadfastly stand for what I
    believe to be the interests and legitimate demands of the people
    themselves. I beg you to remember, in this which promises to be an
    historic conference, you are settling the question of the power or
    impotence, the distinction or the ignominy of the party to which the
    people with singular generosity have offered the conduct of their
    affairs.

Some of the members of the Legislature came to my office after this
conference and told me of the great speech the Governor had just delivered
and how defiantly he had met the attack of his enemies. This caucus gave
an emphatic endorsement of his legislative programme and in a few weeks
the House of Assembly had acted upon it, and the various bills that
constituted his entire programme were on their way to the Republican
Senate. How to induce favourable action at the hands of the Republican
Senate was a problem. There were very few members of the Senate whose
ideals and purposes were in agreement with those of the Governor.

When the bills reached the Senate, the Governor began daily conferences
with the Republican members of that body, discussing with them the items
of his programme and urging speedy action upon them. As a part of the
programme of inducing the Republicans to support him, a friend of mine who
was on the inside of the Republican situation reported to me that it was
the opinion in the Republican ranks that the new Governor was too much a
professor and doctrinaire; that he was lacking in good-fellowship and
companionship; that while the members of the Legislature who had conferred
with him had found him open and frank, they thought there was a coldness
and an austerity about him which held the Governor aloof and prevented
that intimate contact that was so necessary in working out the programme
we had outlined.

We finally decided that the fault lay in the lack of social intimacy
between the new Governor and the members of the Legislature. In my social
and official contact with Mr. Wilson I always found him most genial and
agreeable. When we were at luncheon or dinner at the old Sterling Hotel in
Trenton he would never burden our little talks by any weighty discussion
of important matters that were pending before him. He entirely forgot all
business and gave himself over to the telling of delightful stories. How
to make the real good-fellowship of the man an asset in dealing with the
members of the Senate was a problem. I very frankly told him one day at
luncheon that many members of both legislative bodies felt that he was too
stiff and academic and that they were anxious to find out for themselves
if there was a more human side to him. In order to give him an opportunity
to overcome this false impression we arranged a delightful dinner at the
Trenton Country Club, to which we invited both Democratic and Republican
members of the Senate. The evening was a delightful one. In the corner of
the little room where the dinner was served sat three darky musicians who
regaled the little group with fine old southern melodies. It was real fun
to watch the new Governor's conduct in this environment. He was like a boy
out of school. He was no longer the college professor or the cold man of
affairs. He delighted the members of the Senate who sat about him with
amusing stories, witty remarks, and delightful bits of sarcasm. At the
close of the dinner, Senator Frelinghuysen walked over and challenged him
to a Virginia Reel. He accepted this invitation and the crowd of men were
soon delighted to see the Somerset senator lead the new Governor out on
the floor and his long legs were soon moving in rhythm with the music.

[Illustration:

    Telegram.

    The White House
    Washington

    3 RN JM 75 Govt.
    114pm

    Windsor, Vermont, July 5, 1915

    Hon. Jos. P. Tumulty,
    The White House,
    Washington, D.C.

    ---- is down and out in his newspaper work and desperately in need of
    employment. Says there is a vacancy as foreign trade adviser in the
    State Department and also one in the District Play Grounds department.
    Would be very much obliged if you would see if something can be done
    for him in either place. His address 221 A. Street, Northeast.

    Woodrow Wilson.

       *        *        *        *        *

    Dear Tumulty,

    I want to issue this statement to help Mr. Hoover and his Commission
    in the splendid work they are doing, and head off mischief-makers (or,
    rather, one particular mischief-maker who is a little out of his mind)
    on this side the water.

    Will you not please read it to Lansing over the phone and, if he has
    no objection to offer, give it out?

A glimpse at the President's human side.]

After all, men are just boys, and this bringing together of these
practical men on so happy and free an occasion did much to convince the
members of the Senate that the new Governor after all was like themselves,
a plain, simple man, modestly trying to serve the interests of a great
state.

This affair broke the ice, and after that there was a close intimacy
between the Governor and the members of the Legislature, both Democrats
and Republicans, and this coöperation soon brought about the enactment of
the whole Wilson programme. Never before had so comprehensive a programme
been so expeditiously acted upon by a legislative body. The Legislature
had convened in January and by the middle of April every campaign pledge
that the Governor had made had been kept, although the Senate with which
he had to deal was largely Republican.

As the legislative session progressed it appeared that certain Democratic
senators were reluctant to follow his leadership. Indeed it was also
apparent that the Republicans were alike unwilling to act favourably upon
his legislative suggestions. In this situation he summoned the Democratic
senators and reminded them of the party pledges in the platform and served
notice that if they did not vote for these measures they would have to
explain to their constituents. He then summoned the Republican senators
and said to them, in effect, this: "The legislation proposed was promised
in the Democratic platform. That is not your platform. Therefore, you are
not pledged to this action. But if you obstruct the action I shall have to
trouble you to go with me to your districts and discuss these matters with
your constituents and tell them why you consider this bad legislation and
why you resisted it."

The newspapers of the country soon began to discuss the achievements of
the Wilson administration in New Jersey and immediately the name of the
Governor began to be mentioned in connection with the Presidency.

One of the matters of national importance with which he was called upon to
deal during this legislative session was the passage of railroad grade-
crossing legislation. In response to the agitation that had long existed
in New Jersey for the elimination of grade crossings, the Democrats had
inserted a radical plank in their platform in reference to it, and, acting
upon this, the Legislature had passed a grade-crossing bill, to which the
railroads of the state strenuously objected. It was a matter of the
greatest public interest and importance that for many years had been the
subject of bitter controversies throughout the state. While the bill was
before the Governor for consideration, the railroad attorneys had prepared
long, comprehensive briefs attacking the bill as unjust to the railroads
and as containing many features which in their essence were confiscatory.
When the bill came before the Governor for final action no one considered
for a moment the possibility of a veto, first, because of the traditional
attitude of the Democratic party of New Jersey in the matter of grade
crossings; and, secondly, because of the effect a veto would have upon the
progressive thought of the country. I recall very well my discussion with
him in regard to this most important bill. Realizing that he was at this
time looming up as a national figure, and knowing that the Progressives of
the country were awaiting with keen interest his action on the bill, I
feared the effect upon his political fortunes that a veto of the bill
would undoubtedly have.

The Baltimore Convention was only a few months away and it was clear to me
that no matter how safe and sane were the grounds upon which he would veto
this legislation, his enemies in the Democratic party would charge him
with being influenced by the New Jersey railroad interests who were
engaged in a most vigorous campaign against the passage of this
legislation. In fact, when we came to discuss the matter, I frankly called
this phase of it to his attention. I tried to make him see the effects
such a veto would have upon his political fortunes, but he soon made it
clear to me that he was unmindful of all such consequences. After
thoroughly considering the matter, he finally decided to veto the bill. In
discussing the matter with me, he said: "I realize the unjust and
unfortunate inference that will be drawn by my political enemies from a
veto of this bill, but the bill, as drawn, is unjust and unfair to the
railroads and I ought not to be afraid to say so publicly. I cannot
consider the effect of a veto upon my own political fortunes. If I should
sign this bill it would mean practically a confiscation of railroad
property and I would not be worthy of the trust of a single mail in the
state or in the country were I afraid to do my duty and to protect private
property by my act." His attitude toward the bill was clearly set forth in
the veto, part of which is as follows:

    I know the seriousness and great consequence of the question affected
    by this important measure. There is a demand, well grounded and
    imperative, throughout the state that some practicable legislation
    should be adopted whereby the grade crossings of railways which
    everywhere threaten life and interfere with the convenience of both
    city and rural communities should as rapidly as possible be abolished.
    But there is certainly not a demand in New Jersey for legislation
    which is unjust and impracticable.

           *       *       *       *       *

    The non-enactment of this bill into law will, of course, be a serious
    disappointment to the people of the state, but it will only
    concentrate their attention upon the just and equitable way of
    accomplishing the end in view. I do not believe that the people of the
    state are in such haste as to be willing to work a gross injustice,
    either to the railroads or to private owners of property, or to the
    several communities affected.

Of course his political enemies made free use of this veto in an effort to
injure him throughout the country in every state campaign where his
fortunes as candidate were involved. As a matter of fact, his veto of this
bill did shock the people of the state, but when they seriously considered
the matter in all its aspects, they felt that their governor had, at
least, done an honourable and a courageous thing in refusing to approve
it.

Discussion of him as a strong Presidential possibility was steadily
growing. I had felt a delicacy about talking of this with him, but in a
walk that we were accustomed to take along the banks of the Delaware and
Raritan Canal between office hours, I, one day, made bold to open, the
subject in this way: "It is evident from the newspapers, Governor, that
you are being considered for the Presidency." I could plainly see from the
way he met the suggestion that he did not resent my boldness in opening
the discussion. I told him that we were receiving letters at the Executive
offices from various parts of the country in praise of the programme he
had just put through the legislature. As we discussed the possibilities of
the Presidential situation, he turned to me in the most solemn way, and
putting his hand to his mouth, as if to whisper something, said: "I do not
know, Tumulty, that I would care to be President during the next four
years." And then looking around as if he were afraid uninvited ears might
be listening, he continued: "For the next President will have a war on his
hands, and I am not sure that I would make a good war President." This
reply greatly excited my curiosity and interest and I said: "With what
nation do you think we will have a war?" Very cautiously he said: "I do
not care to name the nation," and our little talk ended. This statement
was made to me in April, 1911. Was it a prophecy of the war that was to
burst upon the world in August, 1914?




CHAPTER XII

COLONEL HARVEY


Upon the completion of the legislative work of the first session of the
New Jersey Legislature the name of Woodrow Wilson quickly forged to the
front as a strong Presidential possibility. Intimate friends, including
Walter Hines Page, afterward United States Ambassador to Great Britain;
Cleveland H. Dodge and Robert Bridges, the two latter old friends and
classmates of the Governor in the famous class of '79 at Princeton, set
about by conferences to launch the Presidential boom of their friend, and
selected for the task of the actual management of the campaign the young
Princetonian, William F. McCombs, then an active and rising young lawyer
of New York. These gentlemen, and other devoted friends and advisers of
the Governor, made up the first Wilson contingent, and at once initiated a
plan of publicity and organization throughout the country. They arranged
to have the New Jersey Governor visit strategic points in the country to
make addresses on a variety of public questions. Whether Colonel Harvey
was behind the scenes as the adviser of this little group I have never
ascertained, but _Harper's Weekly_, then edited by the Colonel, was his
leading supporter in the magazine world, carrying the name of the
Princetonian at its mast-head as a candidate for the Presidency. There
were frequent conferences between the Colonel and the Governor at the
Executive offices, and as a result of these conferences the Wilson boom
soon became a thing to be reckoned with by the Old Guard in control of
party affairs in the nation.

Wilson stock from the moment of the adjournment of the Legislature began
to rise, and his candidacy spread with great rapidity, until in nearly
every state in the Union "Wilson Clubs" were being established. The New
Jersey primaries, where again he met and defeated the Smith forces; the
Ohio primaries, where he split the delegates with the favourite son,
Governor Harmon, a distinguished Democrat; and the Wisconsin primaries, at
which he swept the state, gave a tremendous impetus to the already growing
movement for the "Reform" Governor of New Jersey.

Everything was serenely moving in the Wilson camp, when like a thunderclap
out of a clear sky broke the story of the disagreement between Colonel
Harvey, Marse Henry Watterson, and the Governor of New Jersey. I recall my
conversation with Governor Wilson on the day following the Harvey-
Watterson conference at a New York club. As private secretary to the
Governor, I always made it a rule to keep in close touch with every
conference then being held regarding the political situation, and in this
way I first learned about the Harvey-Watterson meeting which for a few
weeks threatened to destroy all the lines of support that had been built
up throughout the past months of diligent work and organization.

The Governor and I were seated in a trolley car on our way from the State
Capitol to the railroad station in Trenton when he informed me, in the
most casual way and without seeming to understand the possible damage he
had done his own cause, of what followed the conference the previous day.
It was like this: the conference had ended and they were leaving the room
when Colonel Harvey put his hand on Woodrow Wilson's shoulder and said:
"Governor, I want to ask you a frank question, and I want you to give me a
frank answer. In your opinion is the support of _Harper's Weekly_ helping
or hurting you?" In telling me of it Woodrow Wilson said: "I was most
embarrassed, and replied: 'Colonel, I wish you had not asked me that
question.' 'Well, what is the answer?' Colonel Harvey insisted pleasantly.
'Why, Colonel, some of my friends tell me it is not helping me in the
West.' Colonel Harvey said: I was afraid you might feel that way about it,
and we shall have to soft-pedal a bit'." Mr. Wilson was so serenely
unconscious that any offence had been taken that when informed by me a
little later that his name had disappeared from the head of the editorial
column of _Harper's Weekly_ he did not connect this with the interview.
"Was Colonel Harvey offended?" I asked. "He didn't seem to be," was the
Governor's answer.

I immediately scented the danger of the situation and the possibilities of
disaster to his political fortunes that lay in his reply, and I told him
very frankly that I was afraid he had deeply wounded Colonel Harvey and
that it might result in a serious break in their relations. The Governor
seemed grieved at this and said that he hoped such was not the case; that
even after he had expressed himself so freely, Colonel Harvey had been
most kind and agreeable to him and that they had continued to discuss in
the most friendly way the plans for the campaign and that the little
conference had ended without apparent evidence that anything untoward had
happened that might lead to a break in their relations. We then discussed
at length the seriousness of the situation, and as a result of our talk
the Governor wrote Colonel Harvey and endeavoured to make clear what he
had in mind when he answered the question put to him by the Colonel at the
club conference a few days before, not, indeed, by way of apology, but
simply by way of explanation. This letter to the Colonel and a subsequent
one went a long way toward softening the unfortunate impression that had
been created by the publication of the Harvey-Watterson correspondence.
The letters are as follows:

    (Personal)

    University Club
    Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Fourth Street
      December 21, 1911.

    MY DEAR COLONEL:

    Every day I am confirmed in the judgment that my mind is a one-track
    road and can run only one train of thought at a time! A long time
    after that interview with you and Marse Henry at the Manhattan Club it
    came over me that when (at the close of the interview) you asked me
    that question about the _Weekly_ I answered it simply as a matter of
    fact and of business, and said never a word of my sincere gratitude to
    you for all your generous support, or of my hope that it might be
    continued. Forgive me, and forget my manners!

    Faithfully, yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

To which letter Colonel Harvey sent the following reply:

    (Personal)

    Franklin Square
    New York, January 4, 1912.

    MY DEAR WILSON:

    Replying to your note from the University Club, I think it should get
    without saying that no purely personal issue could arise between you
    and me. Whatever anybody else may surmise, you surely must know that
    in trying to arouse and further your political aspirations during the
    past few years I have been actuated solely by the belief that I was
    rendering a distinct public service.

    The real point at the time of our interview was, as you aptly put it,
    one simply "of fact and of business," and when you stated the fact to
    be that my support was hurting your candidacy, and that you were
    experiencing difficulty in finding a way to counteract its harmful
    effect, the only thing possible for me to do, in simple fairness to
    you, no less than in consideration of my own self-respect, was to
    relieve you of your embarrassment so far as it lay within my power to
    do so, by ceasing to advocate your nomination. That, I think, was
    fully understood between us at the time, and, acting accordingly, I
    took down your name from the head of the _Weekly's_ editorial page
    some days before your letter was written. That seems to be all there
    is to it. Whatever little hurt I may have felt as a consequence of the
    unexpected peremptoriness of your attitude toward me is, of course,
    wholly eliminated by your gracious words.

    Very truly yours,
      GEORGE HARVEY.

To Colonel Harvey's letter Governor Wilson replied as follows:

    (Personal)

    Hotel Astor
    New York, January 11, 1912.

    MY DEAR COL. HARVEY:

    Generous and cordial as was your letter written in reply to my note
    from the University Club, it has left me uneasy, because, in its
    perfect frankness, it shows that I did hurt you by what I so
    tactlessly said at the Knickerbocker Club. I am very much ashamed of
    myself, for there is nothing I am more ashamed of than hurting a true
    friend, however unintentional the hurt may have been. I wanted very
    much to see you in Washington, but was absolutely captured by callers
    every minute I was in my rooms, and when I was not there was
    fulfilling public engagements. I saw you at the dinner but could not
    get at you, and after the dinner was surrounded and prevented from
    getting at you. I am in town to day, to speak this evening, and came
    in early in the hope of catching you at your office.

    For I owe it to you and to my own thought and feeling to tell you how
    grateful I am for all your generous praise and support of me (no one
    has described me more nearly as I would like myself to be than you
    have); how I have admired you for the independence and unhesitating
    courage and individuality of your course; and how far I was from
    desiring that you should cease your support of me in the _Weekly_. You
    will think me very stupid--but I did not think of that as the result
    of my blunt answer to your question. I thought only of the means of
    convincing people of the real independence of the _Weekly's_ position.
    You will remember that that was what we discussed. And now that I have
    unintentionally put you in a false and embarrassing position you heap
    coals of fire on my head by continuing to give out interviews
    favourable to my candidacy!

    All that I can say is that you have proved yourself very big, and that
    I wish I might have an early opportunity to tell you face to face how
    I really feel about it all. With warm regard,

    Cordially and faithfully, yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

For a while it seemed as if the old relations between the Colonel and the
New Jersey Governor would be resumed, but some unfriendly influence, bent
upon the Governor's undoing, thrust itself into the affair, and soon the
story of the Manhattan Club incident broke about the Princetonian's head
with a fury and bitterness that deeply distressed many of Mr. Wilson's
friends throughout the country. The immediate effect upon his candidacy
was almost disastrous. Charges of ingratitude to the "original Wilson man"
flew thick and fast. Mr. Wilson's enemies throughout the country took up
the charge of ingratitude and soon the stock of the New Jersey man began
to fall, until his immediate friends almost lost heart. The bad effect of
the publication of the Harvey-Watterson correspondence and the bitter
attacks upon the sincerity of the New Jersey Governor were soon
perceptible in the falling away of contributions so necessary to keep
alive the campaign then being carried on throughout the country. The
"band-wagon" crowd began to leave us and jump aboard the Clark, Underwood,
and Harmon booms.

Suddenly, as if over night, a reaction in favour of Governor Wilson began
to set in. The continued pounding and attacks of the reactionary press
soon convinced the progressives in the ranks of the Democratic party that
Wilson was being unjustly condemned, because he had courageously spoken
what many believed to be the truth. At this critical stage of affairs a
thing happened which, routed his enemies. One of the leading publicity men
of the Wilson forces in Washington, realizing the damage that was being
done his chief, inspired a story, through his Washington newspaper
friends, that Wilson was being gibbeted because he refused to accept the
support of Wall Street interests which Harvey and Watterson had offered
him, and that his refusal to accept their offer was the real cause of the
break. This new angle of the Harvey-Watterson episode worked a complete
reversal of opinion.

The clever work of this publicity man in turning the light on what he
conceived to be the real purpose of the Harvey-Watterson conference
probably did injustice to these two gentlemen, but at all events it gave
weight to the impression in the minds of many people throughout the
country that the real reason for the break was Mr. Wilson's refusal to bow
the knee to certain eastern financial interests that were understood to be
behind _Harper's Weekly_. The tide quickly turned against Colonel Harvey
and Marse Henry Watterson. Marse Henry, alone in his suite at the New
Willard Hotel at Washington, and the Colonel away off in his tower at
Deal, New Jersey, were busily engaged in explaining to the public and
attempting, in heroic fashion, to extricate themselves from the
unfortunate implications created by the story of the Wilson publicity man.
What appeared at first blush to be a thing that would destroy the
candidacy of the New Jersey Governor had been, by clever newspaper
manipulation, turned to his advantage and aid.

When the bitterness and rancour caused by this unfortunate incident had
happily passed away Colonel Watterson and I met at a delightful dinner at
Harvey's Restaurant in Washington and discussed the "old fight." The young
fellow who had inspired the story which so grievously distressed Marse
Henry and Colonel Harvey was present at this dinner. Marse Henry was in
fine spirits, and without showing the slightest trace of the old
bitterness, rehearsed the details of this now-famous incident in a witty,
sportsmanlike, and good-natured way, and at its conclusion he turned to my
newspaper friend and laughingly said: "You damn rascal, you are the
scoundrel who sent out the story that Harvey and I were trying to force
Wall Street money on Wilson. However, old man, it did the trick. If it had
not been for the clever use you made of this incident, Wilson never would
have been President."

In a beautiful letter addressed to the President by Marse Henry on
September 24, 1914, conveying his expressions of regret at the death of
the President's first wife, appears the following statement with reference
to the famous Harvey-Watterson controversy:

    I hope that hereafter you and I will better understand one another; in
    any event that the single disagreeable episode will vanish and never
    be thought of more. In Paris last winter I went over the whole matter
    with Mr. McCombs and we quite settled and blotted out our end of it. I
    very much regret the use of any rude word--too much the characteristic
    of our rough-and-tumble political combats--and can truly say that I
    have not only earnestly wished the success of your administration but
    have sought to find points of agreement, not of disagreement.

    I am writing as an old man--old enough to be your father--who has the
    claim upon your consideration that all his life he has pursued the
    ends you yourself have aimed at, if at times too zealously and
    exactingly, yet without self-seeking or rancor.

    Your friend,
      HENRY WATTERSON.

The President's acknowledgment of this letter is as follows:

    September 28, 1914.

    MY DEAR COLONEL WATTERSON:

    Your kind letter has gratified me very deeply. You may be sure that
    any feeling I may have had has long since disappeared and that I feel
    only gratified that you should again and again have come to my support
    in the columns of the _Courier-Journal_. The whole thing was a great
    misunderstanding.

    Sincerely yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

While the Harvey-Watterson episode ended as above related, there is no
doubt that Woodrow Wilson deeply regretted the whole matter, and, so far
as he was concerned, there was no feeling on his part of unfriendliness or
bitterness toward Colonel Harvey. Indeed, he felt that Colonel Harvey had
unselfishly devoted himself to his cause in the early and trying days of
his candidacy, and that Harvey's support of him was untouched by selfish
interests of any kind. In every way he tried to soften the unfortunate
impression that had been made on the country by what many thought was an
abrupt, ungracious way of treating a friend. An incident in connection
with this matter is worth relating:

One day at the conclusion of the regular Tuesday cabinet meeting the
President and I lingered at the table, as was our custom, and gossiped
about the affairs of the Administration and the country. These discussions
were intimate and frank in every way.

A note in the social column of one of the leading papers of Washington
carried the story that Colonel Harvey's daughter, Miss Dorothy Harvey, was
in town and was a guest at the home of Mrs. Champ Clark. I took occasion
to mention this to the President, suggesting that it would be a gracious
thing on his part and on the part of Mrs. Wilson to invite Miss Harvey to
the Sayre-Wilson wedding which was scheduled to take place a few days
later, hoping that in this way an opening might be made for the resumption
of the old relationship between the Colonel and Mr. Wilson. The President
appeared greatly interested in the suggestion, saying that he would take
it up with Mrs. Wilson at once, assuring me that it could be arranged.
When I saw how readily he acted upon this suggestion, I felt that this was
an opening for a full, frank discussion of his relations with Colonel
Harvey. I approached the subject in this way: "For a long time I have
wanted to discuss Colonel Harvey with you. There is no doubt, Governor,
that this unfortunate episode did not sit well on the stomachs of the
American people. Whether you believe it or not, the country resented your
attitude toward your old friend, and out of this incident an impression
has grown which is becoming stronger with each day, that you pay little
regard to friendship and the obligations that grow out of it. I have been
hoping that in some way the old relationship could be resumed and that you
would feel free at some time in a public way to attest your real feeling
for Colonel Harvey, at least by way of reciprocation for the genuine way
he stood by you in the old days in New Jersey." The President looked at me
in the most serious way, apparently weighing every word I had uttered, and
said: "You are right, Tumulty; unfortunate impressions have been created.
What can I do for Colonel Harvey to attest in some public way my
appreciation of what he did for me in the old days?" I asked why, inasmuch
as McCombs had declined the French Ambassadorship, this post might not be
offered to Colonel Harvey, adding that I believed he coveted and would
appreciate such an appointment. The President said that this was an
admirable suggestion and authorized me to get in touch with Colonel Harvey
at once and make him the offer of the French post.

While my relations with Colonel Harvey were at no time strained, and, in
fact, up to this day our friendship has been uninterrupted, I thought it
would be more tactful if I should approach him through the junior senator
from New York, James O'Gorman. Immediately upon leaving the President I
went to the Army and Navy Club, where Senator O'Gorman was living, and
told him of my conversation with the President in reference to Colonel
Harvey. He was enthusiastic and immediately got in touch with Colonel
Harvey at his home at Deal, New Jersey, told him of the President's offer,
and asked for a conference. Then a thing happened which completely
destroyed these plans for a reconciliation. The following Sunday an
interview signed by Colonel Harvey, bitterly assailing the President,
appeared in the New York _Times_. The fat was in the fire. Senator
O'Gorman and I were silenced. When I approached the President on Monday
morning to discuss further the matter with him, he said: "I greatly regret
this interview of Colonel Harvey. How can I now with propriety offer him
any post? Knowing Harvey as I do, he would be reluctant to take it, for
the country might be of the opinion that he had yielded in his criticism
of me by the offer of this appointment, and I could not in honour make the
appointment now, for it might appear to the country that by this method I
was trying to purchase the silence of the Colonel. I am very sorry,
indeed, that the plan we discussed has fallen to the ground."

And thus the efforts of Mr. Wilson to bring about a reconciliation with
his old friend ended in dismal failure.




CHAPTER XIII

THE "COCKED-HAT" INCIDENT


While Governor Wilson came out of this controversy with the two Colonels,
Harvey and Watterson, with flying colours, he was by no means beyond the
danger line. His enemies both within and without the party hotly contested
his leadership, and the bitterness of the opposition grew in proportion as
his candidacy gained daily advantages. Everything possible was done to
block his progress and to make more difficult his road to the Presidency.
Everything he had ever said or written, especially his "History of the
American People," was carefully examined in the hope of finding some way
to discredit him. All the guns of the opposition were turned upon him, but
nothing seemed sufficient to block his progress. All the charges,
intimations, insinuations, and slanders that were industriously circulated
by his enemies were without effect, and the trained political minds in his
own camp were apprehensive lest his candidacy had reached its climax too
long before the convention. How to maintain the present advantage was the
problem that perplexed them. They were hopefully looking forward to the
benefits that would accrue to their candidate in the round-up of
candidates at the famous Jackson Day dinner, scheduled for early January,
1912. This dinner was an annual affair and was eagerly looked forward to.
It was expected that the leading lights of the Democratic party would
attend this dinner, including Colonel W. J. Bryan, Champ Clark, Oscar
Underwood, ex-Governor Folk of Missouri, Roger Sullivan of Illinois, and
the New Jersey Governor's friends were confident that because of his
ability as a public speaker he would make a strong and favourable
impression. They were not disappointed.

We were awaiting the Jackson Day dinner with great expectations, and
congratulating ourselves that we were now safely "out of the woods," and
that things would move smoothly for our candidate, when like a bolt from,
the blue came the publication of the famous Joline "cocked-hat" letter,
which caused another panic in the ranks of the too-optimistic Wilson
forces.

This letter was written by Mr. Wilson to Mr. Adrian Joline, a Princeton
alumnus and prominent New York lawyer at the time of the split in the
Democratic party over the silver question. The letter is as follows:

    Princeton, New Jersey,
      April 29, 1907.

    MY DEAR MR. JOLINE:

    Thank you very much for sending me your address at Parsons, Kan.,
    before the board of directors of the Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railway
    Company. I have read it with relish and entire agreement. Would that
    we could do something, at once dignified and effective, to knock Mr.
    Bryan once for all into a cocked hat!

    Cordially and sincerely yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

The publication of this letter came at a most inopportune time for the
Wilson candidacy, and how to meet it was one of the most difficult
problems that the Wilson forces had to face. Our enemies were jubilant.
They felt that at last they had broken our lines and that we would not be
able to "come back."

At this time I was at the State House at Trenton and I received a telegram
from the Governor, requesting that I come at once to Washington, where he
was conferring with the leaders of his forces in an effort to find some
way to neutralize the bad effects of the Joline cocked-hat story in
advance of the Jackson Day banquet, at which Mr. Bryan would be present.
On my arrival in Washington I went to the Willard Hotel and found the
Governor hi a conference with William F. McCombs, Tom Pence, Senator
O'Gorman, and Dudley Field Malone. We discussed the situation fully and
the character of reply the Governor should make by way of explanation of
the Joline letter. Mr. Josephus Daniels, a friend and associate of Mr.
Bryan, was sent to confer with Mr. Bryan in order that Mr. Wilson might
have a close friend at hand who could interpret the motives which lay back
of the Joline letter and impress upon Mr. Bryan the present favourable
attitude of Mr. Wilson toward him. Mr. McCombs suggested that the Governor
address an open letter to Mr. Bryan, voicing his regret over the
publication of this letter and assuring him of his present kindly feelings
toward him. I vigorously opposed Mr. McCombs' suggestion, arguing that no
explanation of the Joline letter could be made to Mr. Bryan that would
wear the appearance of sincerity, or be convincing, and that the letter
having been written there was nothing to do to extenuate it in any way and
that the wise thing was to make a virtue of necessity. I suggested that on
the following night, when the Governor was to deliver his address at the
Jackson Day dinner, he could, in the most generous and kindly way, pay a
handsome tribute to Mr. Bryan for his unselfish service to the Democratic
party throughout the dark years he had been its leader; that I felt that
he would appreciate a tribute of this kind and that he would resent any
explanation of this incident which would appear to be truckling or
apologetic in character. This plan was finally agreed upon. In the very
beginning of his speech, in the most tactful way, Governor Wilson paid a
tribute to the Great Commoner by saying, as he turned to Mr. Bryan: "When
others were faint-hearted, Colonel Bryan carried the Democratic standard.
He kept the 'fires burning' which have heartened and encouraged the
democracy of the country."

The speech at the Jackson Day dinner was a triumph for Woodrow Wilson.
While it was a tempestuous voyage for him, with many dangerous eddies to
be avoided, he emerged from the experience with his prestige enhanced and
with his candidacy throughout the country strengthened. The Bryan-Joline
crisis was safely passed. In the presence of the newspaper men at the
banquet, Mr. Bryan put his arm around Mr. Wilson's shoulders in an
affectionate way, and thus happily concluded the incident which for a time
threatened to wreck a great enterprise.

On his return from Washington to Trenton, Governor Wilson told me that Mr.
Bryan had bidden him not to worry about the publication of the Joline
letter, saying: "I, of course, knew that you were not with me in my
position on the currency," and Woodrow Wilson replied: "All I can say, Mr.
Bryan, is that you are a great, big man."




CHAPTER XIV

WILSON AND THE OLD GUARD


Old line politicians, like Roger Sullivan of Illinois and Tom Taggart of
Indiana, were turned to the Princetonian by his notable speech at the
Jackson Day dinner and now gave sympathetic ear to the New Jersey
Governor's claims for the nomination. An incident which happened at the
conclusion of the banquet, as the Governor was on his way to make his
train for New Jersey, illustrates the character of the victory he had won
over difficulties which at the time seemed insurmountable. The old
Illinois leader, Roger Sullivan, greeted the candidate in the most
friendly way as he left the banquet hall, saying to him as he grasped his
hand: "That was a great speech, Governor," and then, drawing closer to
him, added: "I cannot say to you now just what the Illinois delegation
will do, but you may rely upon it, I will be there when you need me," This
remark did not seem of importance at the time, but when we discussed the
incident the next day at the Capitol at Trenton we both felt that, at a
critical moment of the convention Roger Sullivan could be relied upon to
support us and to throw the vote of Illinois our way. Sullivan kept his
promise in real, generous fashion. When it seemed as if the Baltimore
Convention was at the point of deadlock, and after the Illinois delegation
had voted many times for Champ Clark, Sullivan threw the full support of
Illinois to the New Jersey Governor, and thus the tide was quickly turned
in favour of Mr. Wilson's candidacy for the Presidency.

I had often wondered what influence beyond this Jackson Day banquet speech
had induced this grizzly old political warrior to support Woodrow Wilson.
Afterward I learned the real cause of it from men who kept in close touch
with the Illinois delegation during the trying days of the Baltimore
Convention.

Everyone who knew Roger Sullivan knew the great influence which both his
fine wife and devoted son wielded over him. His son, Boetius, a Harvard
graduate, had early become a Wilson devotee and supporter, and the
correspondence between father, mother, and son, contained a spirited
discussion of the availability of the New Jersey man for the Democratic
nomination. The interest of Mrs. Sullivan and her son continued throughout
the days of the Convention, which they both attended, and at the most
critical moment in the proceedings of the Convention when a point was
arrived at when the Illinois vote was decisive, the Illinois leader left a
conference where he was being strongly urged by Mr. Wilson's friends to
support the New Jersey Governor, to have a final conference with Mrs.
Sullivan and their son before he would finally agree to throw his support
to Wilson.

Everyone at Baltimore knows the result of this conference and how the
inner councils of the Sullivan family prevailed. Illinois swung to Wilson
and he was soon nominated. It was said, after the New Jersey man's
nomination and election, that he showed base ingratitude to Roger
Sullivan, the man who more than any other single individual in the
Convention had brought about his nomination. Mr. Sullivan's devoted
friends in Illinois were particularly bitter at the apparent coldness of
Mr. Wilson toward their friend and idol. The President, as a matter of
fact, was never unmindful of his obligation to Sullivan for the personally
loyal way he had stood by him at Baltimore, and in every way while he was
President he let those associated with him know that Sullivan and his
friends, wherever it was possible, should be preferred in the matter of
the distribution of patronage in Illinois.

The thing, however, which irritated Sullivan's friends and made many of
them irreconcilable foes of Woodrow Wilson was his apparent unwillingness
to say a good word for Sullivan when he announced his candidacy for the
United States senatorship of Illinois. This presented an opportunity for
President Wilson to pay the old debt and "even up" things with Roger.
Realizing the delicacy of the situation and how deeply the progressive
element in the Democratic party throughout the country might misunderstand
and even resent his putting his "okeh" on the candidacy of the Illinois
leader for the senatorship, nevertheless, upon considering the matter, he
decided to do so and prepared a generous and wholehearted letter of
endorsement of Sullivan. He felt that as a good sportsman he was bound in
honour to do this for the man whose influence and support, thrown to him
at the right moment of the Convention, had brought about his nomination
for the Presidency. But there were other and deeper reasons urging him on
to endorse his old friend. He knew how eagerly and earnestly Sullivan had
fought for him at Baltimore and how in doing so he had won the enmity of
the eastern wing of the Democratic party. The old bosses in the party,
like Smith and Murphy, had often twitted Sullivan on his support of Wilson
and threatened reprisals. Sullivan, however, stood like adamant against
these influences and showed an allegiance to the New Jerseyman which
earned the admiration and affection of every Wilsonite in the country. The
President felt confident that should Roger Sullivan be elected to the
Senate, he could count upon him to stand by and loyally support him and
the Administration. At this very time the President was beginning to
realize in the keenest way the necessity for real, loyal backing in the
Senate. Many of the men whom he had personally supported for the Senate in
the various senatorial fights throughout the country, especially those who
were known as progressive senators, like Hardwick and Smith of Georgia,
O'Gorman of New York, and Martine of New Jersey, had grown indifferent and
were reluctant to follow his leadership in anything. The so-called Old
Guard in the Senate, made up of men like Mark Smith of Arizona, Senators
Martin and Swanson of Virginia, Ollie James of Kentucky, John Sharp
Williams of Mississippi, Joe Robinson of Arkansas, Billy Hughes of New
Jersey, Senator Culberson of Texas, Senator Simmons of North Carolina, and
Senator Smith of Maryland, contrary to every prophecy and prediction made
by their enemies, stood with the President through every fight in the
finest and handsomest way, never deserting his leadership for a moment.
Often he would say to me when we were discussing the senatorial situation:
"My head is with the progressives in the Democratic party, but my heart,
because of the way they stood by me, is with the so-called Old Guard in
the Senate. They stand without hitching." He knew that, while Roger
Sullivan was a conservative, he could be relied upon in every emergency to
back him up even to the point of sacrifice. What President Wilson wanted
more than anything else, as he often said, was a team that would work with
him. Sullivan was just this type of man, and beyond everything else his
loyalty had been tested and could be relied upon in every emergency.

In the light of these circumstances, the President decided finally to
throw his hat in the ring in favour of the boss of Illinois for the United
States senatorship. The letter advocating Sullivan's election was dictated
and signed by the President, and is as follows:

    THE WHITE HOUSE
    WASHINGTON
      October 12, 1914.

    MY DEAR MR. RANEY:

    I have read with the greatest interest the account you were kind
    enough to send  me of the Illinois Democratic State Convention. It is
    full of fine promise for  the party; for it shows all the elements of
    the party heartily drawing together  for a successful campaign; and
    with this union success is sure to come.

    You call my attention to the fact that some Democrats are urging
    voters to cast  their ballots for the Progressive candidate for the
    Senate of the United States  rather than for the nominee of the
    Democratic primaries. You ask me if I approve  of this. I do not. I
    have held myself very strictly to the principle that as a  party man I
    am bound by the free choice of the people at the polls. I have  always
    stood by the result of the primaries; I shall always do so; and I
    think  it the duty of every Democrat to do so who cares for the
    success and sincerity  of his party. Mr. Sullivan has been selected in
    a fair primary, and therefore he  is entitled to the support of his
    party.

    Sincerely yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

    HON. HENRY T. RAINEY,
    House of Representatives.

This letter and the contents of it will be a matter of news to Sullivan's
friends throughout the country. Many, doubtless, will inquire why it was
not published at the time. The reason it failed to reach the stage of
publication can in no way be attributed to Woodrow Wilson. He never
recalled it and the original is in my files. This may be surprising news
to the friends of the dead leader, Roger Sullivan, but it is only fair to
Mr. Wilson to say that he never hesitated in rushing to the defence of his
old friend in the most generous way. He wrote this letter with the full
realization of just how much it might personally injure him with the
progressive thought of the country. The letter, after being written and
signed by the President, was held in reserve by me until Sullivan's
friends in Chicago, those in close touch with his affairs there, felt free
to advise its publication. I was directed by them to release it, but the
order for its release was countermanded by one of the advisers close to
Sullivan, who telephoned me that it was thought inadvisable to have the
President come into the campaign in Sullivan's behalf, the reason being
that the publication of Wilson's letter might arouse the passionate
antagonism of Theodore Roosevelt, who was about to begin a tour of
Illinois in behalf of Sullivan's opponent. I was advised later that the
individual with whom I dealt in this matter and upon whose direction the
letter was withheld from publication had no authority to act for Sullivan
in the matter and that Sullivan and his friends were deeply disappointed
at Mr. Wilson's apparent unwillingness to take up the cudgel for his old
friend. Many times I tried to make clear to Sullivan's friends just what
the attitude of the President was, but whether I succeeded I do not know.
The President, secluded in the White House, away from the madding crowd,
never realized the basis of Sullivan's disappointment, for he felt that he
had "gone through" for his friend and had not forgotten for a moment
Sullivan's advocacy of him at Baltimore, When the news of Sullivan's death
was brought to him at a time when he, also, was seriously ill, his lips
quivered, great tears stood in his eyes, and turning to Mrs. Wilson, who
stood beside his bed, he said: "Roger Sullivan was a wonderful and devoted
friend at Baltimore," and then, turning to me, he said: "Tumulty, I
sincerely hope that you will personally go to Chicago and attend the
funeral and tell Mrs. Sullivan how deeply I grieve over the death of my
old friend."




CHAPTER XV

MR. BRYAN ISSUES A CHALLENGE


The contests for the delegates to the National Convention were on in full
swing throughout the various states. In the early contests, particularly
in the far western states, like Utah, South Dakota, North Dakota, and
Montana, the Wilson candidacy, according to primary returns, began to take
on the appearance of a real, robust boom. As the critical days of the
Convention approached, evidences of a recession of the favourable tide to
Wilson began to manifest themselves, particularly in the states of
Massachusetts and Illinois, both of which swung to Clark, with New York in
the offing quietly favouring Champ Clark. It was clear to the campaign
managers of Wilson that from a psychological standpoint the pivotal states
were New Jersey and Ohio; New Jersey, because ex-Senator Smith had again
challenged the leadership of Wilson and had notified his friends
throughout the country that New Jersey could be relied upon to repudiate
its governor in an overwhelming fashion. Smith had made deals and
combinations with all the disgruntled elements of the state, and with
powerful financial backing from the so-called interests in New Jersey and
New York and the mighty support of the Hearst newspapers, he was pressing
the New Jersey man closely, until at times it seemed as if he might
succeed in at least splitting the delegation. The friends of the New
Jersey man, therefore, realizing the effect upon the democracy of the
country of an adverse verdict in his home state, concentrated all possible
forces at this critical point. In the meantime, and before the actual
determination of the issue in New Jersey, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania swung
into the Wilson column, and the Ohio primaries resulted in a split
delegation between Wilson and Harmon, in Harmon's home state. All eyes
were, therefore, intently watching New Jersey. A repudiation would be
disastrous, although the old-timers in the Wilson camp tried to encourage
us by saying that even though New Jersey might turn against its governor,
Grover Cleveland, under similar circumstances in 1892, despite the
opposition of his home state, had been nominated and elected President.
But, fortunately for us, New Jersey in the handsomest way stood by her
favourite son. The news of New Jersey's endorsement was flashed through
the country, and there was jubilation in every Wilson camp. The day
following the New Jersey primaries the New York _World_, the great
Democratic paper, carried a striking editorial under the caption of
"WOODROW WILSON FOR PRESIDENT." The New Jersey primaries and the Ohio
results were great feathers in the caps of the Wilson men, and with
enthusiasm and ardour they followed up this advantage.

As the days for the opening of the Baltimore Convention approached the New
Jersey Governor and his family left Princeton for Sea Girt, a delightful
place along the Atlantic seaboard, where the state of New Jersey had
provided for its governor an executive mansion, a charming cottage, a
replica of General Washington's headquarters at Morristown. With us to
these headquarters, to keep vigil as it were over the New Jersey Governor,
went a galaxy of newspaper men, representing the leading papers of the
country.

The first, and indeed the most important, situation the candidate was
called upon to handle at Sea Girt as a preliminary to the Convention was
his reply to the now famous Bryan-Parker telegrams, which played so
important a part in the deliberations and indeed in the character of the
whole Convention--It will be recalled that Mr. Bryan, who was in
attendance at the Republican Convention at Chicago as a special
correspondent, had telegraphed an identic telegram to each of the
Democratic candidates, Messrs. Clark, Underwood, Wilson, and Harmon, as
follows:

    Chicago, June, 1912.

    In the interest of harmony, I suggest to the sub-committee of the
    Democratic National Committee the advisability of recommending as
    temporary chairman some progressive acceptable to the leading
    progressive candidates for the Presidential nomination. I take it for
    granted that no committeeman interested in Democratic success would
    desire to offend the members of a convention overwhelmingly
    progressive by naming a reactionary to sound the keynote of the
    campaign.

    Eight members of the sub-committee, however, have, over the protest of
    the remaining eight, agreed upon not only a Reactionary but upon the
    one Democrat who, among those not candidates for the Presidential
    nomination, is, in the eyes of the public, most conspicuously
    identified with the reactionary element of the party.

    I shall be pleased to join you and your friends in opposing his
    selection by the full committee or by the Convention. Kindly answer
    here.

    W. J. BRYAN.

I was on my way from New York to Sea Girt when I read a copy of this
telegram in the evening papers. I believe that I grasped the full
significance of this move on the part of Mr. Bryan. In fact, I became so
anxious about it that I left the train before reaching my destination, in
order to say to Governor Wilson over the 'phone how important I thought
the message really was and how cautiously it should be handled. I tried to
impress upon him the importance of the answer he was called upon to make
to Mr. Bryan. He calmly informed me that he had not yet received the
telegram and that he would, of course, give me an opportunity to discuss
the matter with him before making his reply.

It was clear that Mr. Bryan, whose influence in the councils of the
Democratic party at that time was very great, was seeking by this method
to ascertain from leading Presidential candidates like Wilson, Underwood,
Clark, and Harmon, just how they felt about the efforts of the New York
delegation, led by the Tammany boss, Charlie Murphy, and the conservative
element of the Democratic party in the East, to control the Convention and
to give it the most conservative and standpat appearance by controlling
the preliminary organization and nominating Alton B. Parker as temporary
chairman. For many weeks previous to the Convention it had been rumoured
that that was the programme and that the real purpose which lay behind it
was to unhorse Bryan and to end for all time his control and that of the
radicals of the West over the affairs of the Democratic party. It was a
recrudescence of the old fight of 1896, between the conservative East and
the radical West--Bryan assuming, of course, the leadership of the
radicals of the West, and Charlie Murphy and his group acting as the
spokesmen of the conservative East.

It was clear to me that Bryan anticipated just what replies Underwood,
Clark, and Harmon would make to his inquiry. Whether he was certain of
what the New Jersey Governor would say in answer to his telegram, I never
could ascertain. Indeed, many of the New Jersey Governor's supporters were
ungenerous enough to say that behind the inquiry lay a selfish purpose;
that Mr. Bryan took this method to reestablish his leadership and to place
himself at the forefront of the liberal, progressive forces of the
Convention.

It is clear, as one looks back upon this incident, that a misstep in the
handling of this inquiry from Mr. Bryan might have been fatal to the New
Jersey man's candidacy.

When I arrived at Sea Girt to discuss the matter with Governor Wilson, I
was surprised to find that he had not even read the telegram, although a
copy of it lay upon his desk, and when he did read it and we were
discussing it he did not share my view of its great importance. In
attempting to emphasize its importance I experienced one of the most
difficult jobs I ever had in the eleven years I was associated with
Woodrow Wilson. In vain I tried to impress upon him what I believed to be
the purpose which lay behind the whole business; that his reply would
determine the question as to whether he was going to line up with the
progressive element which was strong in the West, or whether he would take
sides with those of the conservative East, many of whom were bitterly
opposed to him. He finally informed me that he was in touch with Mr.
McCombs, his campaign manager at Baltimore, and that he would not reply to
Mr. Bryan's telegram until he received some word from the former as to
what his opinion was in regard to handling this difficult matter. I left
him, after impressing upon him the necessity of early action, lest our
progressive friends both at Baltimore and throughout the country who were
awaiting word from us should be disappointed by his apparent unwillingness
to take his position with the progressives.

The newspaper correspondents at Sea Girt, realizing the importance of the
candidate's decision, industriously kept upon our trail to find out what
reply would be made to Mr. Bryan. The direct wire between Baltimore and
Sea Girt was kept busy with inquiries from our friends as to what attitude
we were taking in the matter. While my relations with McCombs at the time
were of the friendliest sort, I feared that the Eastern environment in
which he lived, and his attempt to bring Tammany into camp for the New
Jersey Governor, would necessarily play a large part in influencing his
judgment, and I was apprehensive lest Governor Wilson should be too much
inclined to accept Mr. McCombs' final judgment in the matter.

On June 21, 1912, the following telegram came from Mr. McCombs, as the
basis of a proposed reply to Mr. Bryan by the New Jersey Governor:

    Baltimore, June 21, 1912.

    HON. WILLIAM J. BRYAN
    Lincoln, Nebraska.

    I quite agree with you that the temporary chairman of the Convention
    should voice the sentiments of the democracy of the nation which I am
    convinced is distinctly progressive. However, before receiving your
    telegram I had given the following statement for publication in the
    Baltimore _Evening Sun_: My friends in Baltimore are on the people's
    side in everything that affects the organization of the Convention.
    They are certain not to forget their standards as they have already
    shown. It is not necessary that I should remind them of these
    standards from New Jersey and I have neither the right nor the desire
    to direct the organization of a convention of which I am not even a
    member.

    (signed) MCCOMBS

I was greatly disappointed, of course, at the character of reply suggested
by McCombs and argued with the Governor at length on what I considered
would be the disastrous effects of making a reply such as the one
contained in the above telegram. Clearly, Mr. McCombs' suggested reply was
a rebuke to Mr. Bryan and a bid for the Eastern vote in the convention. Of
course, Governor Wilson was most reluctant to disregard the advice of
McCombs. He felt that he (McCombs) was "on the job" at Baltimore and more
intimately in touch with the situation than he himself could be at Sea
Girt. After a long discussion of the matter, the proposed reply prepared
by McCombs was ignored and the following telegram was prepared and sent by
Woodrow Wilson:

    W. J. BRYAN, Chicago:

   You are quite right. Before hearing of your message I clearly stated my
    position in answer to a question from the Baltimore Evening Sun. The
    Baltimore Convention is to be a convention of Progressives, of men who
    are progressive in principle and by conviction. It must, if it is not
    to be put in a wrong light before the country, express its convictions
    in its organization and in its choice of the men who are to speak for
    it. You are to be a member of the Convention and are entirely within
    your rights in doing everything within your power to bring that result
    about. No one will doubt where my sympathies lie and you will, I am
    sure, find my friends in the Convention acting upon clear conviction
    and always in the interest of the people's cause. I am happy in the
    confidence that they need no suggestion from me.

    (Signed) WOODROW WILSON.

This reply, more than any other single thing, changed the whole attitude
and temper of the Convention toward Woodrow Wilson. The progressive forces
in it were seeking leadership and Mr. Bryan, by his inquiry, had provided
an opportunity, of which. Mr. Wilson took full advantage.

An interesting incident occurred in connection with this affair. Being
unable to induce the Governor quickly to reply to Mr. Bryan, and realizing
that our friends at Baltimore would expect him to agree with Mr. Bryan,
and thus take his place with the progressive element in the Convention, I
was firmly convinced that he would at the end be found in agreement with
Mr. Bryan. I, therefore, took the liberty of saying to the newspaper men
in our group--those who were favourably disposed to us--that when Mr.
Wilson did reply to Mr. Bryan he would be found in harmony with the
Commoner's ideas. This unofficial tip was immediately conveyed to
Baltimore and our friends, after returning from the Convention, told me
how this piece of inspired information had put heart in our men, and that
on a bulletin board before the Baltimore _Sun_ offices there was posted
the announcement "WILSON AGREES WITH BRYAN" and before it hundreds of
Wilson men gathered, cheering the message of the New Jersey Governor.

The reply of the New Jersey Governor was prepared by him while he was
seated on the side of a little bed in one of the rooms of the Sea Girt
cottage. He looked at me intently, holding a pad and pencil in his hands,
and then wrote these significant words to Mr. Bryan: "_You are right_."

I have often wondered what effect on the Convention McCombs' proposed
reply, which contained a rebuke to Mr. Bryan, would have had. From that
time on Mr. Bryan was the devoted friend of the New Jersey Governor. Mr.
Wilson's reply had convinced the Nebraskan that the Governor was not
afraid to accept the issue and that he was in favour of supporting a
preliminary organization that was to be progressive both in principle and
by conviction.

McCombs was obsessed with the idea that the New York delegation must be
won; that everything else was negligible compared with that. Therefore he
wished Mr. Wilson in his reply to say something that would be considered
by the New York delegation as a public rebuke to Mr. Bryan. I afterward
learned that McCombs, nervous, incapable of standing the strain and
excitement of the Convention, had retired to a friend's house at Baltimore
where, after the Woodrow Wilson telegram to William Jennings Bryan, he was
found in a room, lying across a bed, crying miserably. To the inquiries of
his friends as to what was the matter with him McCombs replied, weeping,
that the Governor had spoiled everything by his telegram to Bryan; that
had the Governor followed his [McCombs'] advice, he could have been
nominated.

The direct wire between the Sea Girt cottage and the Wilson headquarters
at Baltimore was kept busy from early morning until late at night. The
telephone exchange in the cottage was so arranged that a branch telephone
was kept in the little room under the stairway, which constituted a sort
of listening post, which permitted me, in accordance with the suggestion
of the Governor himself, to listen in on conversations, not by way of
eavesdropping, but in order that we might intelligently confer after each
conversation on the various matters that might have to be decided upon
with reference to the organization of the convention. Many of the
momentous questions having to do with the conduct of the Convention were
discussed and settled over this 'phone. The most frequent users of the
'phone during these days were Colonel Bryan and Mr. McCombs, our campaign
manager. During the opening days of the Convention I made it my business
to keep in close touch with Baltimore both by conversations over the
'phone with the active managers of the Wilson boom and by carefully
reading each morning the news items appearing in the New York _Times_, New
York _World_, and the Baltimore _Sun_, this last-named paper being one of
the leading advocates of the Wilson candidacy in the country.

I was personally, and in some cases intimately, acquainted with the
special writers on these great journals and knew from previous contact
with them that they were on the "inside" of the situation at Baltimore,
and in this way much information was gleaned which proved helpful in
keeping us in touch with the many happenings at the Convention.

Having successfully passed through the Bryan-Parker crisis, we decided
upon a kind of strategy that would win to our side the various progressive
elements in the Convention. In line with this idea, we suggested to our
managers at Baltimore the advisability of putting forward the name of
Ollie M. James of Kentucky for permanent chairman of the Convention. While
he was a staunch Clark man and a devoted follower of Mr. Bryan, we knew he
could be relied upon to give us a fair deal as the presiding officer of
the Convention. There was another reason, too. Away off in Sea Girt we
gathered the impression that the sober second thought of the Convention
favoured his selection and that even though we might fail in our attempt
to nominate him for this office, our efforts at least in this regard would
give the impression to those who looked with favour upon Wilson as their
second choice. Another reason was this: We were not afraid to trust our
cause to a Clark man, and Ollie James for many years had been the idol of
convention crowds. When, upon the conclusion of the Bryan-Parker episode,
Mr. Bryan telephoned Sea Girt to discuss with the Governor the matter of
the chairmanship, he was greatly surprised and pleased to have the
Governor say, in the most hearty way that, upon canvassing the whole
situation, he felt it would be an admirable and just thing to select Ollie
James of Kentucky. Mr. Bryan said: "But, Governor Wilson, Mr. James is in
the Convention as a Clark man." "It does not matter," was the Governor's
reply. "He is our kind of a fellow, and I am sure my friends can rely upon
him to treat our cause well." From Mr. Bryan's subsequent conversations
over the telephone it clearly appeared that he was delighted at the
suggestion of his own intimate friend, and it was plain that he was being
convinced from moves of this kind by the New Jersey Governor that Woodrow
Wilson was willing to stand or fall with him in attempting to organize the
Convention along progressive lines.

Years after the Convention the senator from Kentucky, who became my
closest and dearest friend, and who distinguished himself as a member of
the Senate, and who was one of the staunchest defenders of the President
and the Administration, told me of the wisdom which he thought lay behind
the suggestion of himself for the chairmanship; that we, at Sea Girt,
rightly sensed the situation and that the suggestion of his name had done
more than anything else to convince the men in the Convention of the
genuine character of the New Jersey Governor's progressiveness. We felt
that strategic moves of this kind appealed to the progressive thought in
the Convention and went far to remove the strange impression many of the
delegates had that Wilson was a rank conservative. It was plainly
perceptible that these acts were quickly turning the progressives in the
Convention toward our candidate.

In following these suggestions, we were, in fact, acting independently of
the New Jersey Governor's advisers at Baltimore. It was plain to be seen
that the battle at Baltimore would finally simmer down to a contest
between the reactionaries and the progressives, and we decided at Sea Girt
that in every move that was to be made our purpose should be to win the
progressive support in the Convention. McCombs was at no time found in
harmony with this action, his principal activities at Baltimore being
given over to an attempt to win for the New Jersey Governor the support of
the conservatives of the East, and, particularly, New York, whose seventy-
six votes he thought the great prize of the Convention.




CHAPTER XVI

THE BALTIMORE CONVENTION


At Sea Girt we kept in close touch with our friends at Baltimore, so that
after each ballot the New Jersey candidate was apprised of the result.
During the trying days and nights of the Convention the only eager and
anxious ones in the family group, besides myself, were Mrs. Wilson and the
Wilson girls. The candidate himself indeed seemed to take only perfunctory
interest in what was happening at Baltimore. He never allowed a single
ballot or the changes those ballots reflected to ruffle or disturb him.
Never before was the equable disposition of the man better manifested than
during these trying days. Only once did he show evidences of irritation.
It was upon the receipt of word from Baltimore, carried through the daily
press, that his manager Mr. McCombs was indulging in patronage deals to
secure blocks of delegates. Upon considering this news he immediately
issued a public statement saying that no one was authorized to make any
offer of a Cabinet post for him and that those who had done so were acting
without authority from him. This caused a flurry in the ranks of our
friends in Baltimore and the statement was the subject of heated
discussion between the Governor and Mr. McCombs over the telephone. Of
course, I did not hear what was said at the other end of the wire, but I
remember that the Governor said: "I am sorry, McCombs, but my statement
must stand as I have issued it. There must be no conditions whatever
attached to the nomination." And there the conversation ended. While this
colloquy took place I was seated just outside of the telephone booth. When
the Governor came out he told me of the talk he had had with McCombs, and
that their principal discussion was the attempt by McCombs and his friends
at Baltimore to exact from him a promise that in case of his nomination
William Jennings Bryan should not be named for the post of Secretary of
State; that a great deal in the way of delegates' votes from the Eastern
states depended upon his giving this promise. The Governor then said to
me: "I will not bargain for this office. It would be foolish for me at
this time to decide upon a Cabinet officer, and it would be outrageous to
eliminate anybody from consideration now, particularly Mr. Bryan, who has
rendered such fine service to the party in all seasons."

The candidacy of the New Jersey Governor gained with each ballot--only
slightly, however--but he was the only candidate who showed an increased
vote at each stage of the Convention proceedings. The critical period was
reached on Thursday night. In the early afternoon we had received
intimations from Baltimore that on that night the New York delegation
would throw its support to Champ Clark, and our friends at Baltimore were
afraid that if this purpose was carried out it would result in a stampede
to Clark. We discussed the possibilities of the situation that night after
dinner, but up to ten o'clock, when the Governor retired for the night,
New York was still voting for Harmon. I left the Sea Girt cottage and went
out to the newspaper men's tent to await word from Baltimore. The
telegrapher in charge of the Associated Press wire was a devoted friend
and admirer of the New Jersey candidate. There was no one in the tent but
the telegrapher and myself. Everything was quiet. Suddenly the telegraph
instrument began to register. The operator looked up from the instrument,
and I could tell from his expression that something big was coming. He
took his pad and quickly began to record the message. In a tone of voice
that indicated its seriousness, he read to me the following message: "New
York casts its seventy-six votes for Champ Clark. Great demonstration on."
And then the instrument stopped recording. It looked as if the "jig was
up." Frankly, I almost collapsed at the news. I had been up for many
nights and had had only a few hours' sleep. I left the tent, almost in
despair, about eleven o'clock, and returned to the Sea Girt cottage,
preparatory to going to my home at Avon, New Jersey. As I was leaving the
cottage the Governor appeared at one of the upper windows, clad in his
pajamas, and looking at me in the most serious way, said: "Tumulty, is
there any news from Baltimore?" I replied: "Nothing new, Governor." When
we were breakfasting together the next morning, he laughingly said to me:
"You thought you could fool me last night when I asked if there was any
word from Baltimore; but I could tell from the serious expression on your
face that something had gone wrong." This was about the first evidence of
real interest he had shown in the Baltimore proceedings.

As will be recalled, the thing that prevented Champ Clark from gathering
the full benefit which would have come to him from the casting of the New
York vote in his favour was a question by "Alfalfa Bill" Murray, a
delegate from Oklahoma. He said: "Is this convention going to surrender
its leadership to the Tammany Tiger?" This stemmed the tide toward Mr.
Clark, and changed the whole face of the Convention.

It was evident that on Friday night the deadlock stage of the Convention
had been finally reached. The Wilson vote had risen to 354, and there
remained without perceptible change. It began to look as if the candidacy
of the New Jersey Governor had reached its full strength. The frantic
efforts of the Wilson men to win additional votes were unavailing. Indeed,
Wilson's case appeared to be hopeless. On Saturday morning, McCombs
telephoned Sea Girt and asked for the Governor. The Governor took up the
'phone and for a long time listened intently to what was being said at the
other end. I afterward learned that McCombs had conveyed word to the
Governor that his case was hopeless and that it was useless to continue
the fight, and asked for instructions. Whereupon, the following
conversation took place in my presence: "So, McCombs, you feel it is
hopeless to make further endeavours?" When McCombs asked the Governor if
he would instruct his friends to support Mr. Underwood, Mr. Wilson said:
"No, that would not be fair. I ought not to try to influence my friends in
behalf of another candidate. They have been mighty loyal and kind to me.
Please say to them how greatly I appreciate their generous support and
that they are now free to support any candidate they choose."

In the room at the time of this conversation between McCombs and the New
Jersey Governor sat Mrs. Wilson and myself. When the Governor said to
McCombs, "So you think it is hopeless?" great tears stood in the eyes of
Mrs. Wilson, and as the Governor put down the telephone, she walked over
to him and in the most tender way put her arms around his neck, saying:

"My dear Woodrow, I am sorry, indeed, that you have failed." Looking at
her, with a smile that carried no evidence of the disappointment or
chagrin he felt at the news he had just received, he said: "My dear, of
course I am disappointed, but we must not complain. We must be sportsmen.
After all, it is God's will, and I feel that a great load has been lifted
from my shoulders." With a smile he remarked that this failure would make
it possible for them, when his term as Governor of New Jersey was
completed, to go for a vacation to the English Lake country--a region
loved by them both, where they had previously spent happy summers. Turning
to me, he asked for a pencil and pad and informed me that he would prepare
a message of congratulation to Champ Clark, saying as he left the room:
"Champ Clark will be nominated and I will give you the message in a few
minutes."

I afterward learned that McCombs was about to release the delegates when
Roger Sullivan, who had been informed of McCombs' message to the New
Jersey Governor, rushed over to McCombs and said to him, "Damn you, don't
you do that. Sit steady in the boat."

This is the true story of the occurrence so strangely distorted by Mr.
McCombs in the book he left for publication after his death, wherein he
would make it appear that Governor Wilson had got in a panic and tried to
withdraw from the race; whereas the panic was all in the troubled breast
of Mr. McCombs, a physically frail, morally timid person, constitutionally
unfit for the task of conducting such a fight as was being waged in
Baltimore. More sturdy friends of Governor Wilson at the Convention were
busy trying to brace up the halting manager and persuade him to continue
the fight, even against the desperate odds that faced them. But for these
stronger natures, among whom were old Roger Sullivan of Illinois and W. G.
McAdoo, the battle would have been lost.

The message of congratulation to Champ Clark was prepared and ready to be
put on the wire for transmission to him when the Baltimore Convention
assembled again on Saturday, June 29, 1912. I had argued with the Governor
that despite what McCombs had said to him over the 'phone on the previous
day I felt that there was still a great deal of latent strength in the
Wilson forces in the Convention which was ready to jump into action as
soon as it appeared that Champ Clark's case was hopeless. The first ballot
on Saturday gave weight to my view, for upon that ballot Wilson gained
fifteen or twenty votes, which injected new hope into our forces in the
Convention. From that time on Wilson steadily moved forward, and then came
Bryan's resolutions, opposing any candidate who received the support of
the "privilege-hunting" class, and attempting the expulsion of a certain
Eastern group from the Convention. Pandemonium reigned in the Convention
Hall, but the vote upon the resolutions themselves showed the temper of
the delegates. This made the Clark nomination hopeless. Bryan's role as an
exponent of outraged public opinion and as a master of great conventions
was superbly played. When he finally threw his tremendous influence to
Wilson, the struggle was over. Indiana jumped to Wilson, then Illinois,
and the fight was won. Wilson received the necessary two-third vote and
was proclaimed the candidate.

The progressive element of the Democratic party had triumphed after a
long, stubborn fight by what at first was a minority in the Convention for
enlightened progressivism, with Woodrow Wilson as the standard bearer. To
those like myself far away from the Convention there was the sense of a
great issue at stake at Baltimore. One old gentleman who visited Sea Girt
after the Convention compared the stand of the Liberals in the Convention
to the handful at Thermopylae; others compared their heroic determination
to the struggle of Garibaldi and his troops. To the outside world it was
plain that a great battle for the right was being waged at Baltimore,
under the inspiration of a new leadership. At times it appeared that the
raw Wilson recruits would have to surrender, that they could not withstand
the smashing blows delivered by the trained army which the Conservatives
had mobilized. But they stood firm, for there was in the ranks of the
Liberal group in the Baltimore Convention an unconquerable spirit, akin to
that of the Crusaders, and a leadership of ardent men who were convinced
that they were fighting, not merely for a man but for a principle which
this man symbolized. Among these were men like W. G. McAdoo of New York,
A. Mitchell Palmer, Joseph Guffey, and Vance McCormick of Pennsylvania,
Senator "Billy" Hughes of New Jersey, and Angus McLean of North Carolina.

Although the Wilson forces were largely made up of "new" men, some of whom
had never before been actively interested in politics, comparatively young
men like McAdoo, Palmer, McCormick, McLean, Guffey, and old men like Judge
Westcott of New Jersey, yet they were drawn to the light that had dawned
in New Jersey and were eager and anxious to have that light of inspired
leadership given to the nation. Judge Westcott fired the Convention with
his eloquence and brought showers of applause when he quoted at length
from a speech Mr. Wilson had made when president of Princeton, and for
which he had been hissed, lampooned, and derided by the Princeton
opposition. Judge Westcott said:

    Men are known by what they say and do. Men are known by those who hate
    them and those who oppose them. Many years ago the great executive of
    New Jersey said: "No man is great who thinks himself so, and no man is
    good who does not strive to secure the happiness and comfort of
    others." This is the secret of his life. This is, in the last
    analysis, the explanation of his power. Later, in his memorable effort
    to retain high scholarship and simple democracy in Princeton
    University, he declared: "The great voice of America does not come
    from seats of learning. It comes in a murmur from the hills and woods,
    and the farms and factories and the mills, rolling on and gaining
    volume until it comes to us from the homes of common men. Do these
    murmurs echo in the corridors of our universities? I have not heard
    them." A clarion call to the spirit that now moves America. Still
    later he shouted: "I will not cry peace so long as social injustice
    and political wrong exist in the state of New Jersey." Here is the
    very soul of the silent revolution now solidifying sentiment and
    purpose in our common country.

Men in the Convention, overwhelmed with the emotion of the great hour and
the vindication of the bold liberal, Woodrow Wilson, bowed their heads and
sobbed aloud. The "amateurs" of that convention had met the onslaughts of
the Old Guard and had won, and thus was brought about, through their
efforts, their courage, and their devotion, the dawn of a new day in the
politics of the nation.




CHAPTER XVII

FACING A SOLEMN RESPONSIBILITY


Shortly after the Democratic National Convention I gave a dinner at the
newspaper men's cottage at Sea Girt, to which I invited the Democratic
candidate and the newspaper men, in order that they might be given a
chance to meet him in the most intimate way and obtain from him what he
was pleased to call the "inside" of his mind. Upon the conclusion of the
dinner, the Democratic candidate opened his heart in a little talk of the
most intimate and interesting character. It contained not only his views
of the Presidency, but also a frank discussion of the great problems that
would confront the next administration. In referring to Mr. Roosevelt, he
said that he had done a great service in rousing the country from its
lethargy, and in that work he had rendered admirable and lasting service,
but beyond that he had failed, for he had not, during his administrations,
attacked two of the major problems: the tariff and the currency, which he,
Wilson, considered to be the heart and centre of the whole movement for
lasting and permanent reform in America. Discussing Mr. Roosevelt, he
said:

    He promised too often the millennium. No public man has a right to go
    so far afield. You have no right to promise Heaven unless you can
    bring us to it, for, in making promises, you create too much
    expectation and your failure brings with it only disappointment and
    sometimes despair. As a candidate for the Presidency I do not want to
    promise Heaven unless I can bring you to it. I can only see a little
    distance up the road. I cannot tell you what is around the corner. The
    successful leader ought not to keep too far in advance of the mass he
    is seeking to lead, for he will soon lose contact with them. No
    unusual expectation ought to be created by him. When messages are
    brought to me by my friends of what is expected of the next President,
    I am sometimes terrified at the task that would await me in case I
    should be elected. For instance, my daughter, who is engaged in
    social-welfare work in Philadelphia, told me of a visit she paid a
    humble home in that city where the head of a large family told her
    that her husband was going to vote for me because it would mean
    cheaper bread. My God, gentlemen, just think of the responsibility an
    expectation of that kind creates! I can't reduce the price of bread. I
    can only strive in the few years I shall have in office to remove the
    noxious growths that have been planted in our soil and try to clear
    the way for the new adjustment which is necessary. That adjustment
    cannot be brought about suddenly. We cannot arbitrarily turn right
    about face and pull one policy up by the roots and cast it aside,
    while we plant another in virgin soil. A great industrial system has
    been built up in this country under the fosterage of the Government,
    behind a wall of unproductive taxes. Changes must be brought about,
    first here, then there, and then there again. We must move from step
    to step with as much prudence as resolution. In other words, we are
    called upon to perform a delicate operation, and in performing a
    delicate operation it is necessary for the surgeon who uses the knife
    to know where the foundation of vitality is, so that in cutting out
    the excrescence he shall not interfere with the vital tissues.

    And while we do so we must create by absolute fairness and open-
    mindedness the atmosphere of mutual concession. There are no old
    scores to be paid off; there are no resentments to be satisfied; there
    is no revolution to be attempted. Men of every interest must be drawn
    into conference as to what it behooves us to do, and what it is
    possible for us to do. No one should be excluded from the conference
    except those who will not come in upon terms of equality and the
    common interest. We deal with great and delicate matters.

    We should deal with them with pure and elevated purpose, without fear,
    without excitement, without undue haste, like men dealing with the
    sacred fortunes of a great country, and not like those who play for
    political advantage, or seek to reverse any policy in their own
    behalf.




CHAPTER XVIII

WILLIAM F. MCCOMBS


The election being over, the President-elect proceeded with the selection
of his Cabinet and with that end in view immediately began those
conferences with his friends throughout the country in an effort to gather
information upon which to base a final selection. All sorts of suggestions
began to flow into the Executive offices at Trenton. Tentative slates were
prepared for consideration, and the records and antecedents of the men
whose names appeared on them, were subjected to a searching scrutiny.
Every now and then during this period the President-elect would discuss
with me the various candidates and ask me to investigate this or that
phase of the character of certain men under consideration.

One day as we were leaving the Executive offices at Trenton, the Governor
said: "Tumulty, you have read Gideon Wells's 'Diary of the Civil War',
have you not?" I told him that some months before he had generously
presented me with those three interesting volumes that contained a most
accurate and comprehensive inside view of Mr. Lincoln's Cabinet. "Who," he
said, "in Wells's discussion of the Lincoln Cabinet reminds you of William
F. McCombs?" I replied that, in some respects, William A. Seward, Mr.
Lincoln's Secretary of State. Not, of course, in the bigness of Seward's
mind, for I was not attempting to make any comparison between the
intellects of the two men, but in the effort of Seward to dominate Lincoln
and thus creating jealousies in other members of the Cabinet that were the
cause of continual embarrassment to Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Wilson turned to me
and said: "You are absolutely right, and that is one reason why I have not
seriously considered the claims of Mr. McCombs for a Cabinet post. I am
sure that if I did put him in my Cabinet, I should find him interfering
with the administration of the other departments in the same way that
Seward sought to interfere, for instance, with the Treasury Department
under Salmon P. Chase. McCombs is a man of fine intellect, but he is never
satisfied unless he plays the stellar role, and I am afraid he cannot work
in harness with other men and that I should never get any real team work
from him. There is another serious objection to McCombs for a place in my
Cabinet. A few days ago he boldly informed me that he desired to have the
post of Attorney General. When I asked him why he preferred to be Attorney
General, he informed me that, being a lawyer, the Attorney Generalship
would help him professionally after his term of office expired. What a
surprising statement for any man to make! Why, Tumulty, many of the
scandals of previous administrations have come about in this way, Cabinet
officers using their posts to advance their own personal fortunes. It must
not be done in our administration. It would constitute a grave scandal to
appoint such a man to so high an office."

It has often been charged by Mr. McCombs' friends that Mr. Wilson showed a
lack of appreciation of his services and an utter disregard of the fine
things McCombs did in his behalf. Those of us who were on the inside and
witnessed the patience of Woodrow Wilson in handling this most difficult
person know how untrue such statements are. I personally know that during
the trying days preceding the election most of Mr. Wilson's time was given
over to straightening out McCombs and attempting to satisfy his mind that
neither Mr. McAdoo, Colonel House, nor any other friends of Mr. Wilson
were seeking to unhorse him and to take his place in the candidate's
affections. Never did any man show greater patience than did Woodrow
Wilson in his attitude toward McCombs. The illness of McCombs during the
campaign fed fuel to the fires of his naturally jealous disposition. He
suspected everybody; trusted no one, and suspected that the President's
friends were engaged in a conspiracy to destroy him. Of course, it is true
that Mr. Wilson refused to give him the post of Attorney General which he
greatly coveted, for reasons I have fully stated above; but at the very
time when McCombs' friends were saying that the President had ignored him
and failed to offer him any place in his administration, the President had
already tendered McCombs his choice of two of the most important
diplomatic posts at his disposal--the Ambassadorship to Germany and the
Ambassadorship to France. An interesting incident in connection with the
offer of the French post to McCombs and his acceptance of it is worth
relating.

The President arrived in Washington on the third of March and went to the
Shoreham Hotel. McCombs had already received Mr. Wilson's offer of the
French Ambassadorship, and on the night of the third of March he concluded
he would accept it. He sent a messenger to the Shoreham Hotel with his
letter of acceptance. Before the arrival of McCombs' letter at the
Shoreham the President had retired for the night, and the message was
inserted under the door of his room. However, it seems that shortly after
sending the message of acceptance McCombs changed his mind and sent a
friend to the Shoreham to recover the letter, and at twelve o'clock at
night I found him outside of the President's room on his knees, busily
engaged in digging out McCombs' letter of acceptance from underneath the
door.

From that time on, with every changing wind, McCombs would first accept
and then reject the offer of the French post. By his vacillation he
prevented the appointment of an Ambassador to France for four months. He
had easy access to the President and saw him frequently. As he left the
White House after calling on the President one day, Mr. Wilson showed
sharp irritation and said to me: "If McCombs would only discuss somebody
else for office save himself I would be more interested."

That the offer of the French post was made by the President and rejected
by McCombs is evidenced by the following letter, addressed to the
President by McCombs, under date of April 3, 1913:

    WILLIAM F. MCCOMBS
    COUNSELLOR AT LAW
    96 Broadway & 6 Wall Street
    New York

    April 3, 1913.

    My Dear Mr. President:

    Since I saw you on Saturday, I have been making continuous efforts to
    dispose of my affairs so that I might accept your very flattering
    offer. I have been in touch with Tumulty from day to day to find out
    whether my delay was embarrassing you in any way, and he told me it
    was not.

    Of course, I did not want to inconvenience you. As I have told you
    before, my difficulty in accepting the post has lain in the
    adjustments of my financial affairs here and in the forming of a
    connection which would continue, in some degree, my practice. The
    clientèle which any lawyer has is very largely personal to himself,
    and it is almost impossible to arrange that the affairs of such a
    clientèle be handled by others. This is the difficulty under which I
    have labored.

    After intimations to my clients, I find my absence would, in their
    view, be prejudicial to their interests and that they would each seek
    separate counsel. This would mean my return to New York without any
    clientèle whatsoever and a new start. After the statement which you so
    kindly issued, it occurred to me that I might make an arrangement
    under which my affairs could be handled. I am convinced now that it is
    impossible, and that I must remain here to maintain myself. During the
    past two years I have been compelled to neglect my business to a very
    large extent, and I feel that it is absolutely essential for me to
    recoup. In view of the very great honor of the French post, I was
    quite willing to sacrifice almost anything. I now know that the
    sacrifice would be complete.

    I was sorry to see in the New York papers of yesterday, under
    Washington date line, that I had accepted the embassy. It has placed
    me in a most embarrassing position, and has caused general comment of
    vacillation. I cannot imagine how the fact that I was re-considering
    became public. The press clippings I get in the matter are most
    annoying to me, and must be to you. I suppose the only thing to say in
    the matter is that my position is the same as it was when my statement
    was given out in Washington.

    Let me again thank you very deeply for the great honor you have
    conferred upon me. I sincerely wish it were within my power to accept.
    It is such a thing as rarely comes in a man's lifetime.

    Believe me as ever,
      Always yours to command,
      WM. F. MCCOMBS.

    HON. WOODROW WILSON,
    The White House,
      Washington, D. C.

[Illustration: A letter from the man who could not make up his mind
[Transcriber's note: the illustration contains a reproduction of the
above-quoted letter.]]

Even after McCombs had declined the French post, as recited in the above
letter to the President, he continued to vacillate, and addressed the
following telegrams and cables to me in regard to the French
Ambassadorship:

    New York, April 4, 1913.

    HON. JOS. P. TUMULTY,
      Washington, D. C.

    Confidentially, expect to come tomorrow. Please suspend on matter
    until I see you.

    W. F. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

    New York April 25, 1913.

    JOS. P. TUMULTY,
      Washington, D. C.

    Confirm understanding that nothing be done for the present and nothing
    sent in.

    W. F. M

       *       *       *       *       *

    Sagaponac, N. Y., May 3, 1913.
    Radio S. S. _Olympic_.

    JOS. P. TUMULTY,
      White House,
      Washington, D. C.

    Will cable about time sending name in when I reach Paris in
    _acceptance_ our understanding.

    W. F. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Paris, Via French, May 13, 1913.

    JOS. P. TUMULTY,
      White House,
      Washington.

    Have been ill, improving. Cable you Thursday in matter.

    W. F. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Paris, June 1, 1913.

    J. P. TUMULTY,
      Washington.

    Some better. Operation doubtful. Question delayed a few days.

    W. F. M.

Then came the following cable to the President from Col. E. M. House:

    Paris, June 12, 1913.

    THE PRESIDENT
      Washington.

    Damon [code name for McCombs] requests me to say that after he sees
    present incumbent tomorrow he will cable you. He is much improved.

    E. M. HOUSE.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Paris, June 18, 1913.

    JOS. P. TUMULTY,
      Washington.

    Am sending conclusive message through usual channel so you get it
    tomorrow morning. This confirms message today which was incomplete.
    Hope everything will be o. k.

    Mc.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Paris, July 6, 1913.

    J. P. TUMULTY,
    Washington.

    Accept if no previous arrangement cable at once care Monroe Banquier
    Paris.

    W.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Paris, July 7, 1913.

    TUMULTY,
      Washington.

    Better wait a little or leave out for another strictly confidential.

    W.

By this last message McCombs meant that the President had better wait a
little for him to make up his mind, or to select another for the French
post, which the President refused to do.

The kindest explanation of Mr. McCombs' distorted and entirely untruthful
story is that his sensitive mind had brooded so long on fancied injuries
that he had come to believe that what he deposed was true. He was
sensitive to a pathological degree, jealous, suspicious of everybody, and
consumed with ambition to appear as the sole maker of President Wilson
politically. He is dead, and it would have been pleasanter to keep silent
about him. I should have remained silent had he not left his embittered
manuscript in the hands of friends, with directions to publish it after
his death, when those whom he attacks in its various chapters would feel a
hesitancy about challenging his statements and attempting in any way to
asperse his memory. That he was abnormal was known to all who came into
intimate contact with him during the campaign and after. His suspicions
and spites manifested themselves in ways so small that he would have been
laughable had he not been pitiable. The simple fact is that both the
nomination and the election of Governor Wilson were in spite of Mr.
McCombs, not because of him. Mr. McCombs was ill during most of the
campaign, which had to be directed by the assistant chairman, Mr. McAdoo,
with all possible embarrassing interference from the chairman's sick room.

The full force of McCombs' petty spite, malice, and jealousy was expended
upon Mr. William G. McAdoo of New York, who at the time had established a
high reputation for his courage and intrepidity in building the famous
Manhattan and Hudson tunnels. Mr. McAdoo, in the early days of Woodrow
Wilson's candidacy, took his place at the fore-front of the Wilson forces.
At the time of his espousal of the Wilson cause he was the only leader in
the New York financial world ready and courageous enough to take up the
cudgels for Mr. Wilson. His influence thrown to the Wilson side
strengthened the Wilson cause in every part of the country. Every
intimation that reached McCombs during the campaign that Mr. McAdoo, as
vice-chairman of the National Committee, was engaged in doing this or that
thing in connection with his duties as vice-chairman, was always
calculated to stir anew the fires of envy and jealousy which seemed always
burning in the breast of McCombs.

I was in close touch with Mr. Wilson and all the phases of his campaign at
the time, and on several occasions was asked to act as mediator in the
differences between Mr. McAdoo and Mr. McCombs, and I am, therefore, in a
position calmly to analyze and assess the reasons for McCombs' implacable
hatred of Mr. McAdoo. I found that the motives which actuated McCombs were
of the pettiest and meanest sort. At their base lay the realization that
Mr. McAdoo had, by his gallant and helpful support of Mr. Wilson, won his
admiration and deep respect, and now everything must be done by McCombs
and his friends to destroy Mr. McAdoo in the estimation of the Democratic
candidate for the Presidency. In the efforts put forth by McCombs and his
friends to destroy Mr. Wilson's high opinion of Mr. McAdoo every
contemptible and underhanded method was resorted to. Mr. McAdoo reacted to
these unfair attacks in the most kindly and magnanimous way. Never for a
single moment did he allow the McCombs campaign against him to stand in
the way of Woodrow Wilson's advancement to the Presidency.

During the whole time that Mr. McCombs was engaged in his vendetta, Mr.
McAdoo was generous, gallant, big, and forgiving, even suggesting to the
Democratic candidate, in my presence, that it might be wiser for him
(McAdoo) to withdraw from the campaign, so that "things at headquarters
might run easier and more smoothly." Mr. Wilson would not by any act of
his permit the sniping methods of McCombs to be rewarded in the withdrawal
of McAdoo from his campaign.

After the election and when it was certain that McAdoo was being seriously
considered for the post of Secretary of the Treasury, McCombs' jealousy
began to exert itself in the most venomous way. He tried to persuade Mr.
Wilson that the selection of Mr. McAdoo for the post of Secretary of the
Treasury would be too much a recognition of the Wall Street point of view,
and would be considered a repudiation of McCombs' leadership in the
National Committee.

The campaign of McCombs to prevent the nomination of Mr. McAdoo for a post
in the Cabinet failed utterly. His poison brigade then gathered at the
Shoreham Hotel in Washington on the day of the Inauguration and,
attempting to reform their broken lines, now sought to prevent his
confirmation at the hands of the Senate. Every agency of opposition that
McCombs could invoke to accomplish this purpose was put into action, but
like all his efforts against Mr. McAdoo they met with failure. Mr. McAdoo
was confirmed and took his place as Secretary of the Treasury, where his
constructive genius in matters of finance was soon brought into play, and
under his magnificent leadership the foundation stones of the Federal
Reserve system were laid, the fruitage of which is now being realized in
every business throughout the country.

Frequent conferences were held at Princeton with reference to the
selection of the President's Cabinet, and in these conferences Colonel
House and I participated. At a luncheon at the Sterling Hotel at Trenton
Mr. Bryan was offered the post of Secretary of State.

On the first of March the post of Secretary of War was still open. It had
been offered to Mr. A. Mitchell Palmer of Pennsylvania and had been
declined by him for an unusual reason. The President requested Mr. Palmer
to meet him at Colonel House's apartment in New York. When the President
tendered him the position of Secretary of War, Mr. Palmer frankly told the
President that he was a Quaker and that the tenets of his religion
prevented his acceptance of any position having to do with the conduct of
war. The President tried to overcome these scruples, but his efforts were
unavailing. The President then telephoned me and informed me of Palmer's
declination and asked if I had any suggestion regarding the vacancy in his
Cabinet. I told him that I was anxious to see a New Jersey man occupy a
place at his Cabinet table, and we discussed the various possibilities
over the 'phone, but without reaching any definite conclusion. I informed
the President that I would suggest the name of someone within a few hours.
I then went to the library in my home in New Jersey and in looking over
the _Lawyers' Diary_ I ran across the name of Lindley Garrison, who at the
time was vice-chancellor of the state of New Jersey. Mr. Garrison was a
resident of my home town and although I had only met him casually and had
tried a few cases before him, he had made a deep impression upon me as a
high type of equity judge.

I telephoned the President-elect that night and suggested the name of
Lindley Garrison, whose reputation as a distinguished judge of the
Chancery Court was known to the President-elect. He was invited to Trenton
the next day and without having the slightest knowledge of the purpose of
this summons, he arrived and was offered the post of Secretary of War in
Mr. Wilson's Cabinet, which he accepted.




CHAPTER XIX

THE INAUGURATION


A presidential inauguration is a picturesque affair even when the weather
is stormy, as it frequently is on the fourth of March in Washington. It is
a brilliant affair when the sun shines bright and the air is balmy, as
happened on March 4, 1913, when Woodrow Wilson took the oath of office at
noon, delivered his inaugural address a few minutes later, reviewed the
parade immediately after luncheon, and before nightfall was at his desk in
the White House transacting the business of the Government. To the popular
imagination Inauguration Day represents crowds and hurrahs, brass bands
and processions. The hotels, restaurants, and boarding houses of
Washington overflow with people from all parts of the country who have
come to "see the show." The pavements, windows, and housetops along
Pennsylvania Avenue from the east front of the Capitol to the western gate
of the White House are crowded with folk eager to see the procession with
its military column and marching clubs. From an improvised stand in front
of the White House, surrounded by his friends, the new President reviews
the parade.

Every four years the newspaper boys describe Inauguration Day, but I am
not aware of any novelist who has put it in a book. Why not? It offers
material of a high order for literary description. "Human interest"
material also in abundance, not merely in the aspects of the retiring and
incoming Presidents with their respective retinues of important officials,
but in the comedies and tragedies of the lesser figures of the motley
political world. Familiar faces vanish, new faces appear--especially when
a change of administration brings a change of party control. An evacuating
column of ousted and dejected office-holders, prophesying national
disaster at the hands of parvenus, meets an advancing column of would-be
office-holders rejoicing in general over their party's success and
palpitantly eager for individual advantage. As in life, so in Washington
on Inauguration Day, humour and pathos mingle. Inauguration Day is the
beginning of a period of uprooting and transplanting.

So it was when the Democrats came into office on March 4, 1913, after
sixteen years of uninterrupted Republican control and for only the third
time in the fifty-two years since Buchanan had walked out of the White
House and Lincoln had walked in. Hungry Democrats flocked to Washington,
dismayed Republicans looked on in silence or with sardonic comment.
Democratic old-timers who had been waiting, like Mr. Micawber, for
"something to turn up" through long lean years, mingled in the hotel
lobbies with youths flushed with the excitement of a first experience In
the political game and discussed the "prospects," each confident that he
was indispensable to the new administration. Minor officeholders who had,
so they said, been political neutrals during the past administration,
anxiously scanned the horizon for signs that they would be retained.
"Original Wilson men" from various parts of the country were introducing
themselves or being introduced by their friends. And there were the
thousands, with no axes to grind, who had come simply to look on, or to
participate in a long-postponed Democratic rejoicing, or to wish the new
President Godspeed for his and the country's sake. It is not my business
in a book wholly concerned with the personal side of Woodrow Wilson's
political career to attempt a description of Inauguration Day, with its
clamours and its heartaches and its hopes. To the new President the day
was, as he himself said, not one of "triumph" but of "dedication." For him
the occasion had a significance beyond the fortunes of individuals and
parties. Something more had happened than a replacement of Republicans by
Democrats. He believed that he had been elected as a result of a stirring
of the American conscience against thinly masked "privilege" and, a
reawakening of American aspiration for government which should more nearly
meet the needs of the plain people of the country. He knew that he would
have to disappoint many a hungry office-seeker, whose chief claim to
preferment lay in his boast that he "had always voted the Democratic
ticket." Among the new President's first duties would be the selection of
men to fill offices and, of course, in loyalty to his party, he would give
preference to Democrats, but it did not please him to think of this in
terms of "patronage" and "spoils." With the concentration of a purposeful
man he was anxious chiefly to find the best people for the various
offices, those capable of doing a day's work and those who could sense the
opportunities for service in whole-hearted devotion to the country's
common cause. His inaugural address met the expectations of thoughtful
hearers. It was on a high plane of statesmanship, uncoloured by
partisanship. It was the announcement of a programme in the interest of
the country at large, with the idea of trusteeship strongly stressed.
There was nothing very radical in the address: nothing to terrify those
who were apprehensive lest property rights should be violated. The
President gave specific assurance that there would be due attention to
"the old-fashioned, never-to-be-neglected, safeguarding of property," but
he also immediately added "and of individual right." Legitimate property
claims would be scrupulously respected, but it was clear that they who
conceived that the chief business of government is the promotion of their
private or corporate interests would get little aid and comfort from this
administration. The underlying meaning of the President's progressivism
was clear: the recovery of old things which through long neglect or misuse
had been lost, a return to the starting point of our Government,
government in the interest of the many, not of the few: "Our work is a
work of restoration"; "We have been refreshed by a new insight into our
life."

A deep humanity pervaded the message. To the thoughtful hearer it must
have been clear that the President's mind was more occupied with the
masses than with special classes. He was not hostile to the classes. He
was simply less interested in them. He suggested a social as well as a
political programme: "Men and women and children" must be "shielded in
their lives, their very vitality, from the consequences of great
industrial and social processes which they cannot alter, control, or
singly cope with." "The first duty of law is to keep sound the society it
serves." Such was the first utterance of the President who in a few weeks
was to appear as the champion, not of the special interests, native and
foreign, in Mexico, but of the fifteen million Mexican people, groping
blindly, through blood and confusion, after some form of self-government,
and who in a few years was to appear as the champion of small nations and
the masses throughout the world in a titanic struggle against the old
principles of autocracy.

Mingled with the high and human tone of it all was a clear and itemized
forecast of proposed legislation: a revised tariff, a federal reserve
banking system, a farmers' loan bank. And all who knew Woodrow Wilson's
record in New Jersey were aware that the Executive would be the leader in
the enactment of legislation. The executive and legislative branches of
the Government in this administration would, all informed people knew, be
in partnership in the promotion of an enterprise as practical as it was
inspiring.

After Chief Justice White administered the oath of office, the President
read the brief address, of which the following are the concluding words:

    This is not a day of triumph; it is a day of dedication. Here muster,
    not the forces of party, but the forces of humanity. Men's hearts wait
    upon us; men's lives hang in the balance; men's hopes call upon us to
    say what we will do. Who shall live up to the great trust? Who dares
    fail to try? I summon all honest men, all patriotic, all forward-
    looking men, to my side. God helping me, I will not fail them, if they
    will but counsel and sustain me!




CHAPTER XX

MEXICO


Many grave matters inherited from the Taft regime pressed upon the new
Administration for immediate solution. One of the most serious was the
situation in Mexico, growing out of the revolution against the Madero
Government which broke out in Mexico City on February 9, 1913. The murder
of ex-President Madero and Vice-President Suarez, and the usurpation of
presidential authority by General Victoriano Huerta, Minister of Foreign
Affairs, and the general industrial and social chaos of Mexico, made it
necessary for the new administration, only a month in power, quickly to
act and to declare its policy with reference to the question then pending
as to the recognition of the provisional government, the head of which was
Huerta. After becoming "President" of Mexico, the usurper had brazenly
addressed the following telegram to President Taft: "I have overthrown the
Government and, therefore, peace and order will reign," and boldly
asserted a claim to recognition by the Government of the United States.
This was the state of affairs in Mexico when President Wilson was
inaugurated. The duly-elected President of Mexico, Francisco Madero, had
been overthrown by a band of conspirators headed by Huerta. Were the
fruits of the hard-won fight of the Mexican masses against the arbitrary
rule of the favoured few to be wasted? President Wilson answered this
question in his formal statement of March 12, 1913, eight days after his
inauguration. With respect to Latin-American affairs, he said:

    One of the chief objects of my administration will be to cultivate the
    friendship and deserve the confidence of our sister republics of
    Central and South America, and to promote in every proper and
    honorable way the interests which are common to the peoples of the
    two continents. I earnestly desire the most cordial understanding and
    cooperation between the peoples and leaders of America, and,
    therefore, deem it my duty to make this brief statement:

    "Coöperation is possible only when supported at every turn by the
    orderly processes of just government based upon law, not upon
    arbitrary or irregular force. We hold, as I am sure all thoughtful
    leaders of republican governments everywhere hold, that just
    government rests always upon the consent of the governed, and that
    there can be no freedom without order based upon law and upon the
    public conscience and approval. We shall look to make these principles
    the basis of mutual intercourse, respect, and helpfulness between our
    sister  republics and ourselves.... _We can have no sympathy with
    those who seek to seize the power of government to advance their own
    personal interests or ambition._"

Two considerations animated the President in the formulation of his
Mexican policy and compelled his adherence in it throughout his
administration, namely:

_The firm conviction that all nations, both the weak and the powerful,
have the inviolable right to control their internal affairs.

The belief, established from the history of the world, that Mexico will
never become a peaceful and law-abiding neighbour of the United States
until she has been permitted to achieve a permanent and basic settlement
of her troubles without outside interference._

Steadfastly, Woodrow Wilson refused to recognize Huerta as the Provisional
President of Mexico. He said: "Huerta, the bitter, implacable foe of
everything progressive and humane in Mexico, boldly defending the
privileges of the old scientifico group which he represented, openly
defied the authority of the United States and sneered at the much-
ridiculed policy of 'watchful waiting' proclaimed by the new
administration, and laughed to scorn the high idealism which lay behind
it." To him the declaration of the American President that "we can have no
sympathy with those who seek to seize the power of government to advance
their own personal interests or ambition" was a mere gesture, too puerile
to be seriously considered.

While Huerta in Mexico was blatantly denouncing this benevolent policy of
coöperation and helpfulness, aid and comfort were rendered the usurper by
the jingoistic criticisms of the President's enemies in the United States
Congress and throughout the country, many of whom, urged on by the oil
interests, in their mad delirium, cried out for a blood-and-iron policy
toward Mexico. Resisting the American interests in Mexico was a part of
the President's task. Those who cried loudest for intervention were they
who had land, mineral, and industrial investments in Mexico. The "vigorous
American policy" which they demanded was a policy for personal enrichment.
It was with this phase of the matter in mind that the President said: "I
have to pause and remind myself that I am President of the United States
and not of a small group of Americans with vested interests in Mexico."

But the new President, having mapped out the course he was to follow, a
course fraught with a great deal of danger to his administration, seeking
to bring about the moral isolation of Huerta himself, calmly moved on,
apparently unmindful of the jeers and ridicule of his critics in America
and elsewhere. "I am willing," he said, "no matter what my personal
fortunes may be, to play for the verdict of mankind. Personally, it will
be a matter of indifference to me what the verdict on the 7th of November
is, provided I feel any degree of confidence that when a later jury sits I
shall get their judgment in my favour. Not my favour personally--what
difference does that make?--but my favour as an honest and conscientious
spokesman of a great nation."

What an utterly foolish thing, said his critics, it is to attempt in this
day to oust a Mexican dictator by mere rhetoric and high-sounding phrases!

When Wilson said: "The situation must be given a little more time to work
itself out in the new circumstances; I believe that only a little while
will be necessary.... We must exercise the self-restraint of a really
great nation which realizes its own strength and scorns to misuse it," his
enemies smugly shrugged their shoulders and said, with disgust: "Well,
what's the use? what can you expect from a dreamer of dreams, a mere
doctrinaire? Doesn't Wilson, the historian, know that force and force
alone can bring that grizzly old warrior Huerta to his senses?"

What was the President seeking to do in proclaiming his policy of
"watchful waiting"? He was merely seeking to establish in Pan-American
affairs the principle that no president of a South American republic who
came to power by usurpation and assassination should receive, while he was
president, the recognition of the United States. This doctrine was not
only good statesmanship, but it was likewise sound in morals.

It was disheartening to find bitter criticism of this policy from the
outside, and depressing to find the enemies of watchful waiting "boring
from within" through his own Cabinet officers. Lindley Garrison, his own
Secretary of War, had no sympathy for this idealistic policy. His only
antidote for what was happening in Mexico was force and intervention and
he honourably urged this view upon the President, but without succeeding
in bringing about the consummation so dear to his heart.

    And one denies, and one forsakes, and still unquestioning he goes, who
    has his lonely thoughts.

But the President stood firm in his resolve that the people of Mexico
should not be punished for the malefactions of their usurping president,
and steadily, against great odds, he moved forward to vindicate his
policy, unmindful of the jeers and criticisms of his enemies. The heart of
that policy he eloquently exposed when he said: "I am more interested in
the fortunes of oppressed men, pitiful women and children, than in any
property rights whatever. The people of Mexico are striving for the rights
that are fundamental to life and happiness--fifteen million oppressed men,
overburdened women, and pitiful children in virtual bondage in their own
home of fertile lands and inexhaustible treasure! Some of the leaders of
the revolution may often have been mistaken and violent and selfish, but
the revolution itself was inevitable and is right. The unspeakable Huerta
betrayed the very comrades he served, traitorously overthrew the
government of which he was a trusted part, impudently spoke for the very
forces that had driven his people to rebellion with which he had pretended
to sympathize. The men who overcame him and drove him out represent at
least the fierce passion of reconstruction which lies at the very heart of
liberty; and so long as they represent, however imperfectly, such a
struggle for deliverance, I am ready to serve their ends when I can. So
long as the power of recognition rests with me the Government of the
United States will refuse to extend the hand of welcome to any one who
obtains power in a sister republic by treachery and violence."

But the President's policy of watchful waiting did win. The days of the
Huerta regime slowly wended their uneasy way. Huerta suspended the Mexican
Constitution and, having imprisoned half of the Mexican Congress,
proceeded to administer the Government as an arbitrary ruler. Slowly but
surely he began to feel the mighty pressure of the unfriendly Government
of the United States upon him. Still defiant, he sought to unite behind
him the Mexican people, hoping to provoke them to military action against
the United States. To hold his power he was willing to run the risk of
making his own country a bloody shamble, but President Wilson had the
measure of the tyrant Huerta from the beginning, and soon his efforts to
isolate him began to bear fruit. Even now his bitter critics gave a
listening ear to the oft-repeated statement of the American President, as
if it contained the germ of a prophecy:

    The steady pressure of moral force will before many days break the
    barriers of pride and prejudice down, and we shall triumph as Mexico's
    friends sooner than we could triumph as her enemy--and how much more
    handsomely and with how much higher and finer satisfactions of
    conscience and of honour!

Little by little the usurper was being isolated. By moral pressure every
day his power and prestige were perceptibly crumbling. His collapse was
not far away when the President declared: "We shall not, I believe, be
obliged to alter our policy of watchful waiting." The campaign of Woodrow
Wilson to force Huerta finally triumphed. On July 15th, Huerta resigned
and departed from Mexico. Wilson's humanity and broad statesmanship had
won over the system of cruel oppression for which the "unspeakable Huerta"
had stood.

During the Huerta controversy a thing happened which aggravated the
Mexican affair, and which culminated in the now-famous Tampico incident.

On April 9, 1914, a paymaster of the United States steamship _Dolphin_
landed at the Iturbide bridge at Tampico with a whaleboat and boat's crew
to obtain supplies needed aboard the _Dolphin._ While loading these
supplies the paymaster and his men were arrested by an officer and squad
of the army of General Huerta. Neither the paymaster nor any of the boat's
crew were armed. The boat flew the United States flag both at the bow and
stern. Two of the men were in the boat when arrested and hence were taken
from United States "soil." Admiral Mayo, senior American officer stationed
off Tampico, immediately demanded the release of the sailors. Release was
ordered after the paymaster and the sailors had been detained about an
hour. Not only did Admiral Mayo demand the release of the sailors but
insisted on a formal apology by the Huerta Government consisting of a
twenty-one-gun salute to the flag.

During the critical days following the refusal of Huerta to accede to
Admiral Mayo's request the State Department was notified that there would
arrive at Vera Cruz the German steamship _Ypirango_ about to deliver to
Huerta 15,000,000 rounds of ammunition and 500 rapid-fire guns.

About 2.30 o'clock in the morning of the 21st day of April, 1914, the
telephone operator at the White House called me at my home, and rousing me
from bed, informed me that the Secretary of State, Mr. Bryan, desired to
speak to me at once upon a very urgent and serious matter. I went to the
telephone and was informed by Mr. Bryan that he had just received a
wireless informing him that the German steamship _Ypirango,_ carrying
munitions would arrive at Vera Cruz that morning about ten o'clock and
that he thought the President ought to be notified and that, in his
opinion, drastic measures should at once be taken to prevent the delivery
of these munitions to the Customs House at Vera Cruz. While Mr. Bryan and
I were talking, Mr. Daniels, the Secretary of the Navy, got on the wire
and confirmed all that Mr. Bryan had just told me. Soon the President was
on the 'phone, and in a voice indicating that he had just been aroused
from sleep, carried on the following conversation with Messrs. Bryan,
Daniels, and myself: Mr. Bryan reported to him the situation at Vera Cruz
and informed him of the receipt of the wireless:

"Mr. President, I am sorry to inform you that I have just received a
wireless that a German ship will arrive at Vera Cruz this morning at ten
o'clock, containing large supplies of munitions and arms for the Mexicans
and I want your judgment as to how we shall handle the situation."

Replying to Mr. Bryan, the President said: "Of course, Mr. Bryan, you
understand what drastic action in this matter might ultimately mean in our
relations with Mexico?"

Mr. Bryan said, by way of reply:

"I thoroughly appreciate this, Mr. President, and fully considered it
before telephoning you." For a second there was a slight pause and then
the President asked Mr. Daniels his opinion in regard to the matter.

Mr. Daniels frankly agreed with Mr. Bryan that immediate action should be
taken to prevent the German ship from landing its cargo. Without a
moment's delay the President said to Mr. Daniels:

"Daniels, send this message to Admiral Fletcher: '_Take Vera Cruz at
once_'."

As I sat at the 'phone on this fateful morning, away from the hurly-burly
world outside, clad only in my pajamas, and listened to this discussion,
the tenseness of the whole situation and its grave possibilities of war
with all its tragedy gripped me. Here were three men quietly gathered
about a 'phone, pacifists at heart, men who had been criticized and
lampooned throughout the whole country as being anti-militarist, now
without hesitation of any kind agreeing on a course of action that might
result in bringing two nations to war. They were pacifists no longer, but
plain, simple men, bent upon discharging the duty they owed their country
and utterly disregarding their own personal feelings of antagonism to
every phase of war.

After Mr. Bryan and Mr. Daniels had left the telephone the President said:
"Tumulty, are you there? What did you think of my message?" I replied that
there was nothing else to do under the circumstances. He then said: "It is
too bad, isn't it, but we could not allow that cargo to land. The Mexicans
intend using those guns upon our own boys. It is hard to take action of
this kind. I have tried to keep out of this Mexican mess, but we are now
on the brink of war and there is no alternative."

Discussing this vital matter that morning with the Commander-in-Chief of
the Army and Navy, I could visualize the possible tragedy of the whole
affair. I pictured the flagship of Admiral Fletcher with its fine cargo of
sturdy young marines, riding serenely at anchor off Vera Cruz, and those
aboard the vessel utterly unmindful of the message that was now on its way
through the air, an ominous message which to some of them would be a
portent of death. When the President concluded his conversation with me
his voice was husky. It indicated to me that he felt the solemnity of the
whole delicate business he was now handling, while the people of America,
whose spokesman he was, were at this hour quietly sleeping in their beds,
unaware and unmindful of the grave import of this message which was
already on its way to Vera Cruz.

When I arrived at the White House the next morning I found the newspaper
correspondents attached to the Executive offices uninformed of what had
happened in the early morning, but when I notified them that the President
had ordered Admiral Fletcher at 2.30 o'clock in the morning to take Vera
Cruz, they jumped, as one man, to the door, to flash this significant news
to the country and the world.

With Huerta's abdication Venustiano Carranza took hold, but the Mexican
troubles were not at an end. The constant raiding expeditions of Villa
across the American border were a source of great irritation and
threatened every few days a conflagration. While Villa stood with Carranza
as a companion in arms to depose Huerta, the _"entente cordiale"_ was at
an end as soon as Huerta passed off the stage. With these expeditions of
Villa and his motley crew across the border our relations with our
neighbour to the south were again seriously threatened. With Villa
carrying on his raids and Carranza always misunderstanding the purpose and
attitude of our Government and spurning its offer of helpful cooperation,
difficulties of various sorts arose with each day, until popular opinion
became insistent in its demand for vigorous action on the part of the
American President. Every ounce of reserve patience of the President was
called into action to keep the situation steady. How to do it, with many
incidents happening each day to intensify and aggravate an already acute
situation, was the problem that met the President at every turn. At this
time the President was the loneliest figure in Washington.

  Grotesque uncertain shapes infest the dark
    And wings of bats are heard in aimless flight;
  Discordant voices cry and serpents hiss,
    No friendly star, no beacon's beckoning ray.

Even the members of his own party in the Senate and House were left
without an apology or excuse for the seeming indifference of the President
to affairs in Mexico. Day after day from outraged senators would come
vigorous demands for firm action on the part of America, insistent that
something radical be done to establish conditions of peace along our
southern borders. From many of them came the unqualified demand for
intervention, so that the Mexican question should be once and for all
settled.

[Illustration:

    Dear Tumulty,

    Can't talk less than half an hour to save his life, and when he is
    through he has talked on so many different subjects that I never can
    remember what he said. It is literally impossible for me with the
    present pressure upon me to see him, and I hope you will ask him if he
    can't submit a memorandum.

    The President.
    C.L.S.


    Dear Tumulty:

    I should like to see Mr. ---- but just now it does not seem possible
    because I know he is a gentleman who needs a good deal of sea room. I
    am taking his suggestions up with the Secretary of the Navy.

    The President.
    C.L.S.

Dealing with bores.]

In the Cabinet, the Secretary of War, the vigorous spokesman of the
Cabinet group, demanding radical action in the way of intervention, was
insisting that we intervene and put an end to the pusillanimous rule of
Carranza and "clean up" Mexico. Even I, who had stood with the President
during the critical days of the Mexican imbroglio, for a while grew faint
hearted in my devotion to the policy of watchful waiting. To me, the
attack of Villa on Columbus, and the killing of some of our soldiers while
asleep, was the last straw. The continuance of this impossible situation
along the border was unthinkable. To force the President's hand, if
possible, I expressed my feelings in the following letters to him:

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    March 15, 1916.

    MY DEAR GOVERNOR:

    I have been thinking over what we discussed this morning with
    reference to the Mexican situation. I am not acting on impulse and
    without a full realization, I hope, of everything that is involved. I
    am convinced that we should pursue to the end the declared purpose
    announced by you last Friday and endorsed by Congress and the people
    of the United States of "getting Villa." If the _de facto_ government
    is going to resist the entrance of our troops, a new situation will be
    presented. I feel that you ought to advise Congress at the earliest
    possible moment of what the situation really is in order to secure its
    support and cooperation in whatever action is needed to accomplish the
    purpose you have in mind. To retrace our steps now would be not only
    disastrous to our party and humiliating to the country, but would be
    destructive of our influence in international affairs and make it
    forever impossible to deal in any effective way with Mexican affairs.

    Your appeal to Congress ought to deal with this matter in an
    affirmative way, asking for the requisite power which you may feel
    assured will be granted you in ungrudging fashion.

    My apology for writing you is my distress of mind and my deep interest
    in everything that affects you and your future and, I hope, the
    country's welfare. I would not be your friend if I did not tell you
    frankly how I feel.

    Faithfully,
      TUMULTY.

    THE PRESIDENT,
      The White House.

           *       *       *       *       *

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    June 24, 1916.

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    The Mexican authorities admit that they have taken American soldiers
    and incarcerated them. The people feel that a demand should be made
    for their immediate release, and that it should not take the form of
    an elaborate note. Only firmness and an unflinching insistence upon
    our part will bring the gentlemen in Mexico City to their senses.

    If I were President at this moment, or acting as Secretary of State,
    my message to Carranza would be the following:

    "Release those American soldiers or take the consequences."

    This would ring around the world.

     Faithfully,
       TUMULTY.

    THE PRESIDENT,
      The White House.

After reading these letters, the President sent for me one day to visit
with him in his study, and to discuss "the present situation in Mexico."
As I sat down, he turned to me in the most serious way and said: "Tumulty,
you are Irish, and, therefore, full of fight. I know how deeply you feel
about this Columbus affair. Of course, it is tragical and deeply
regrettable from every standpoint, but in the last analysis I, and not the
Cabinet or you, must bear the responsibility for every action that is to
be taken. I have to sleep with my conscience in these matters and I shall
be held responsible for every drop of blood that may be spent in the
enterprise of intervention. I am seriously considering every phase of this
difficult matter, and I can say frankly to you, and you may inform the
Cabinet officers who discuss it with you, that '_there won't be any war
with Mexico if I can prevent it_,' no matter how loud the gentlemen on the
hill yell for it and demand it. It is not a difficult thing for a
president to declare war, especially against a weak and defenceless nation
like Mexico. In a republic like ours, the man on horseback is always an
idol, and were I considering the matter from the standpoint of my own
political fortunes, and its influence upon the result of the next
election, I should at once grasp this opportunity and invade Mexico, for
it would mean the triumph of my administration. But this has never been in
my thoughts for a single moment. The thing that daunts me and holds me
back is the aftermath of war, with all its tears and tragedies. I came
from the South and I know what war is, for I have seen its wreckage and
terrible ruin. It is easy for me as President to declare war. I do not
have to fight, and neither do the gentlemen on the Hill who now clamour
for it. It is some poor farmer's boy, or the son of some poor widow away
off in some modest community, or perhaps the scion of a great family, who
will have to do the fighting and the dying. I will not resort to war
against Mexico until I have exhausted every means to keep out of this
mess. I know they will call me a coward and a quitter, but that will not
disturb me. Time, the great solvent, will, I am sure, vindicate this
policy of humanity and forbearance. Men forget what is back of this
struggle in Mexico. It is the age-long struggle of a people to come into
their own, and while we look upon the incidents in the foreground, let us
not forget the tragic reality in the background which towers above this
whole sad picture. The gentlemen who criticize me speak as if America were
afraid to fight Mexico. Poor Mexico, with its pitiful men, women, and
children, fighting to gain a foothold in their own land! They speak of the
valour of America. What is true valour? I would be just as much ashamed to
be rash as I would to be a coward. Valour is self-respecting. Valour is
circumspect. Valour strikes only when it is right to strike. Valour
withholds itself from all small implications and entanglements and waits
for the great opportunity when the sword will flash as if it carried the
light of heaven upon its blade."

As the President spoke, his eyes flashed and his lips quivered with the
deep emotion he felt. It was the first time he had unburdened himself and
laid bare his real feelings toward Mexico. Rising from his chair, he
walked toward the window of his study, the very window out of which
Lincoln had looked upon the Potomac and the hills of Virginia during the
critical days of the Civil War when he was receiving bad news about the
defeat of the Northern army. Continuing his talk, he said: "Tumulty, some
day the people of America will know why I hesitated to intervene in
Mexico. I cannot tell them now for we are at peace with the great power
whose poisonous propaganda is responsible for the present terrible
condition of affairs in Mexico. German propagandists are there now,
fomenting strife and trouble between our countries. Germany is anxious to
have us at war with Mexico, so that our minds and our energies will be
taken off the great war across the sea. She wishes an uninterrupted
opportunity to carry on her submarine warfare and believes that war with
Mexico will keep our hands off her and thus give her liberty of action to
do as she pleases on the high seas. It begins to look as if war with
Germany is inevitable. If it should come--I pray God it may not--I do not
wish America's energies and forces divided, for we will need every ounce
of reserve we have to lick Germany. Tumulty, we must try patience a little
longer and await the development of the whole plot in Mexico."

Did not the publication of the famous Zimmerman note show that German
intrigue was busy in Mexico?

    Berlin, January 19, 1917.

    On the first of February we intend to begin submarine warfare
    unrestricted. In spite of this it is our intention to keep neutral
    with the United States of America. If this attempt is not successful,
    we propose an alliance with Mexico on the following basis: That we
    shall make war together and together make peace. We shall give general
    financial support and it is understood that Mexico is to reconquer the
    lost territory in New Mexico, Texas and Arizona. The details are left
    to you for settlement.

    You are instructed to inform the President of Mexico of the above in
    the greatest confidence as soon as it is certain that there will be an
    outbreak of war with the United States, and suggest that the President
    of Mexico, on his own initiative, should communicate with Japan,
    suggesting adherence at once to this plan; at the same time offer to
    mediate between Germany and Japan.

    Please call to the attention of the President of Mexico that the
    employment of ruthless submarine warfare now promises to compel
    England to make peace in a few months.

    ZIMMERMAN.

    TO GERMAN MINISTER VON ECKHARDT,
      Mexico City.

In the President's Flag Day address, delivered at Washington on June 14,
1917, appeared the following:

    They [meaning Germany] sought by violence to destroy our industries
    and arrest our commerce. They tried to incite Mexico to take up arms
    against us and to draw Japan into an hostile alliance with her; and
    that, not by indirection, but by direct suggestion _from the Foreign
    Office at Berlin_.

As the storm of ridicule and criticism of his policy of watchful waiting
beat fiercely upon him, I often wondered if he felt the petty meanness
which underlay it, or was disturbed or dispirited by it. As the unkind
blows fell upon him, thick and fast from every quarter, he gave no
evidence to those who were close to him of any irritation, or of the deep
anger he must have felt at what appeared to be a lack of sympathy on the
part of the country toward the idealistic policy in the treatment of
Mexican affairs. Never for a single moment was he driven from the course
he had mapped out for himself. He had given his heart and soul to a great
humane task and he moved toward its consummation amid a hurricane of
protests and criticisms.

There was a time, however, when I thought he displayed chagrin and
disappointment at the obstacles placed in his path in settling the affairs
of Mexico. It was in a little speech delivered at the Brooklyn Navy Yard
on the occasion of the burial of the Marines who fell at Vera Cruz. The
following paragraph contained a note of sadness and even depression.
Perhaps, in the following words, he pictured his own loneliness and utter
dejection:

    I never went into battle; I never was under fire; but I fancy there
    are some things just as hard to do as to go under fire. I fancy that
    it is just as hard to do your duty when men are sneering at you as
    when they are shooting at you. When they shoot at you, they can only
    take your natural life; when they sneer at you, they can wound your
    living heart, and men who are brave enough, steadfast enough, steady
    in their principles enough, to go about their duty with regard to
    their fellow-men, no matter whether there are hisses or cheers, men
    who can do what Rudyard Kipling in one of his poems wrote, "Meet with
    triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same," are
    men for a nation to be proud of. Morally speaking, disaster and
    triumph are imposters. The cheers of the moment are not what a man
    ought to think about, but the verdict of his conscience and of the
    consciences of mankind.




CHAPTER XXI

PANAMA TOLLS


In an introduction to "The Panama Canal Tolls Controversy," edited by Hugh
Gordon Miller and Joseph C. Freehoff, Mr. Oscar S. Straus wrote: "There is
no more honourable chapter in the highly creditable history of the
diplomacy of our country than the repeal of the Panama Tolls Act under the
present administration. Being a controversy affecting our international
relations, it is gratifying that, aside from the leadership of the
President, the repeal was effected not solely by the party in power, but
by the help of leaders in all three parties, rising above the plane of
partisan politics to the higher reaches of broad statesmanship, guided by
a scrupulous regard for our international character in accord with 'a
decent respect for the opinions of mankind,' as expressed in the
Declaration of Independence." President Wilson himself, after the
repealing act had been passed, remarked, "When everything else about this
Administration has been forgotten, its attitude on the Panama Tolls treaty
will be remembered as a long forward step in the process of making the
conduct between nations the same as that which obtains between honourable
individuals dealing with each other, scrupulously respecting their
contracts, no matter what the cost."

In making his recommendations to Congress he, almost with high disdain,
ignored legal technicalities and diplomatic quibbles and took high moral
ground. Said he, "The large thing to do is the only thing we can afford to
do, a voluntary withdrawal from a position everywhere quoted and
misunderstood. We ought to reverse our action without raising the question
whether we were right or wrong, and so once more deserve our reputation
for generosity and for the redemption of our every obligation without
quibble or hesitation."

An act passed in 1912 had exempted American coastwise shipping passing
through the Canal from the tolls assessed on other vessels, and the
British Government had protested against this on the ground that it
violated the Hay-Pauncefote treaty of 1901, which had stipulated that the
Canal should be open to the vessels of all nations "on terms of entire
equality." Other nations than England had an interest in this question,
and there was a suspicion that some of them were even more keenly if not
more heavily interested; but England took the initiative, and the struggle
to save the exemption was turned, in the United States, into a
demonstration by the Irish, Germans, and other anti-British elements.
Innate hostility to England and coastwise shipping interests formed the
backbone of the opposition to any repeal of this exemption, but the Taft
Administration had held that the exemption did not conflict with the
treaty (on the ground that the words "all nations" meant all nations
except the United States), and British opposition to the fortification of
the Canal, as well as the attitude of a section of the British press
during the Canadian elections of 1911, had created a distrust of British
motives which was heightened by the conviction of many that the Hay-
Pauncefote Treaty had been a bad bargain.

It was understood early in President Wilson's Administration that he
believed the exemption was in violation of the treaty, but not until
October did he make formal announcement that he intended to ask Congress
to repeal it. The question did not come into the foreground, however,
until March 5, 1914, when the President addressed this request to Congress
in ominous language, which to this day remains unexplained. "No
communication I addressed to Congress," he said, "has carried with it more
grave and far-reaching implications to the interests of the country."
After expressing his belief that the law as it stood violated the treaty
and should be repealed as a point of honour, he continued: "I ask this of
you in support of the foreign policy of the Administration. I shall not
know how to deal with other matters of even greater delicacy and nearer
consequence if you do not grant it to me in ungrudging measure."

The first word I received that the President contemplated addressing
Congress, asking for the repeal of Panama Tolls, came about in this way: I
was notified after dinner one evening that the President wished to confer
with me in his study. When I arrived at the White House Mrs. Wilson met me
and informed me of the plan which the President had in mind with reference
to this matter and of his decision to issue a statement that night which
would be carried in the newspapers the following morning, and of his
determination to address Congress, asking for a repeal of the Panama
Tolls. Mrs. Wilson showed considerable excitement over the President's
proposed step when she discussed the matter with me as I arrived at the
White House. She said she had argued with the President and had tried to
persuade him that if he intended to do so unusual a thing that now was the
inopportune moment for it for the reason that it would create a party
crisis and probably a split, the result of which we could not foresee.
When I went into the President's study, he read me the announcement he had
prepared for the papers. The full significance and the possible danger
which lay in the proposed move that the President was about to make struck
me at once. Frankly I put the whole political situation in the country
before him as it would be affected by his attitude in this matter, saying
to him that the stand he was about to take would irritate large blocks of
Irish, Germans, and other anti-British elements in the country, and that
we might expect that the leaders in our own party, the heads of the
various committees, like Fitzgerald of Appropriations, Underwood of the
Ways and Means, and Clark, the Speaker of the House, would be found in
solid opposition, and that, at a time when we needed every bit of strength
to put our party programme of domestic legislation into effect, it seemed
to me unwise to inject this matter, which could only be a disturbing
element, into our party's councils. In discussing the matter with me,
after I had presented the objections to it, which I did with great feeling
and probably some irritation, he said: "I knew the view you would take of
it, but, unfortunately, every argument you lay before me in opposition to
the programme I have outlined in this statement is purely a partisan one
and one whose value I cannot recognize at this time. I must not count the
effect of a move of this kind upon my own personal political fortunes. I
am the trustee of the people and I am bound to take cognizance of the fact
that by reason of our attitude on Panama Tolls our treaties are
discredited in every chancellery of Europe, where we are looked upon as a
nation that does not live up to its plighted word. We may have made a very
bad bargain with England on Panama Tolls, but it will be all the more
credit to us if we stand by an agreement even when it entails a sacrifice
on our part. The men who were parties to this treaty, like Joseph Choate,
all agree that we have been indulging in hair-splitting and that we have
done a great injustice to England. I ought not, therefore, to be afraid,
because of the antagonisms that will be created, to do my duty and risk my
political future if necessary in righting a great wrong. We cannot expect
to hold the friendship of the world, especially of England, France, and
Japan, if we are to treat agreements not as inviolable contracts, but as
mere matters of convenience, whose plain terms are to be ignored when
matters of expediency dictate. I know that the Irish, through the Hearst
newspapers, will cry out that I have surrendered to England, that I am
attempting to hand over to Europe a quasi-control over the Panama Canal.
As a matter of fact, we are in bad by reason of our attitude on Panama
Tolls with various leading nations of Europe, and some unforeseen
contingency may arise where it will be found that the reason for their
withdrawal of friendship for us was our petty attitude in this matter. I
realize, as you urge, that the leaders of our party will be found in
opposition, but I must forget this and try to work the matter out so that
at least I shall have cleared my skirts and have done what is possible for
me to do to right a great wrong."

When the President concluded his statement I put before him the possible
reaction against his administration and him personally which might be
reflected in the returns of the Congressional elections to be held that
year. He replied by saying: "I have calculated every element in the
situation and I have concluded where the path of duty lies. If we begin to
consider the effect upon our own political fortunes of every step we take
in these delicate matters of our foreign relations, America will be set
adrift and her word questioned in every court in Europe. It is important
that every agreement that America subscribes her name to shall be carried
out in the spirit of those who negotiated it."

On March 5, 1914, the President addressed Congress and asked for a repeal
of Panama Tolls and immediately the fierce fires of party opposition began
to burn. His party leaders expressed their opposition to the repeal in
open, honourable, and vigorous fashion and the fight was on. Now that the
leading Democrats in the Senate and House had left us, it was necessary
for us to reorganize our forces at once. This task devolved upon me and I
immediately got in touch with younger men of the House, like Mitchell
Palmer, Judge Covington, and that sturdy Republican from Minnesota, Fred
Stevens, and over night we had a militant organization in the trenches,
prepared to meet the onslaught of our enemies.

The President was adamant under the bitterest criticism. His attitude
brought down on him a shower of personal abuse and vituperation from Irish
organs and from a group of newspapers which presently were to appear as
the chief supporters of Germany. The arguments against the repeal were
unusually bitter, and even though Elihu Root, leading Republican senator,
in a brilliant and effective speech took his stand by the President and
against the recent Republican Administration, partisan criticism seized
upon the opening. Nevertheless, the tolls exemption was repealed in June
and the events of July and August, 1914, and especially after Von
Bethmann-Hollweg stood up in the German Reichstag and characterized the
treaty between Germany and Belgium as a mere scrap of paper, gave a
certain satisfaction to those who stood by the President for the sanctity
of treaties.

Sir Edward Grey, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, commenting
upon the action in the House of Commons said: "It has not been done to
please us, or in the interest of good relations, but I believe from a much
greater motive--the feeling that a government which is to use its
influence among nations to make relations better must never, when the
occasion arises, flinch or quail from interpreting treaty rights in a
strictly fair spirit."




CHAPTER XXII

REFORMING THE CURRENCY


I have bitterly resented at times the imputation and charge that Woodrow
Wilson is so egotistical, self-willed, and so wedded to his own ideas that
he not only does not invite suggestion from the outside but that he
resents it and refuses to be guided by it.

I feel that my daily intimacy with him for eleven years gives me the right
to speak frankly in the matter. Of course, like every great man, he is
firmly set in his opinions. He holds and cleaves to them with a passionate
devotion and tenacity but only after the fullest consideration of all the
facts and information upon which he bases a final conviction. Time and
again I have seen him gallantly retreat under the fire of a better
argument in a matter that he had been previously disposed to favour.

And what of his attitude toward those who came to the Executive offices to
argue with him on some vital matter in which he had formed what appeared
to be an unalterable judgment? Never did he assume the unfriendly or
unyielding attitude of the doctrinaire or the man of a single idea. I
recall a case in point. He was discussing the revenue situation with
Representative Claude Kitchin of North Carolina, at a time when it was the
subject of bitter controversy in the ranks of the Democratic party. The
President and Mr. Kitchin held radically divergent views on this matter;
the President sought to lead the party in one direction and Mr. Kitchin
openly pursued an opposite course. I was present at this conference. No
warm friendship existed between these two men; but there was never any
evidence of hostility in the President's attitude toward Mr. Kitchin. He
listened politely and with patience to every argument that Mr. Kitchin
vigorously put forward to sustain his contention in the matter, and took
without wincing the sledgehammer blows often dealt by Mr. Kitchin. The
President replied to Mr. Kitchin's arguments in an open, frank manner and
invited him to the fullest possible discussion of the matter.

I recall the conclusion of this interview, when it seemed that, having
driven the President from point to point, Mr. Kitchin was the victor.
There was no disappointment or chagrin evident in the President's manner
as he faced Mr. Kitchin to accept his defeat. He met it in true
sportsmanlike fashion. At the conclusion of Mr. Kitchin's argument the
President literally threw up his hands and said, quietly, without showing
a trace of disappointment: "I surrender, Mr. Kitchin. You have beaten me.
I shall inform my friends on the Hill that I was mistaken and shall
instruct them, of course, to follow you in this matter."

I could crowd this chapter with similar incidents, but it would be a work
of supererogation.

Never before was Mr. Wilson's open-minded desire to apply in practice the
principle of common counsel better illustrated than in his handling of the
important work in connection with the establishment of the Federal Reserve
Act, the keystone of the great arch of the Democratic Administration. It
was the first item in his programme to set business free in America and to
establish it upon a firm and permanent basis. He aptly said to me, when he
first discussed the basic reason for the legislation, he wished not only
to set business free in America, but he desired also to take away from
certain financial interests in the country the power they had unjustly
exercised of "hazing" the Democratic party at every Presidential election.

Shortly after the Presidential election in 1912, while he was burdened
with the responsibilities of the Executive office at Trenton, New Jersey,
he began, in collaboration with that fine, able, resourceful Virginian,
Representative Carter Glass, then chairman of the Banking and Currency
Committee of the House, the preparation of the Federal Reserve Banking and
Currency Act. For hours at the Executive office in Trenton the Virginia
Congressman conferred with the Governor of New Jersey over the preliminary
drafts of this most vital piece of legislation. For days the work of
preparation was carried on, so that when Mr. Wilson arrived in Washington
to take up the duties of the Presidency, the Banking and Currency Bill was
in shape and ready for immediate introduction in the Senate and House.

Looking back over the struggle that ensued from the time this measure was
introduced into the Senate and House, I often wonder if the people "back
home," especially the various business interests of the country, who have
been saved from financial disaster by this admirable and wholesome piece
of legislation, ever realized the painstaking labour and industry, night
and day, which Woodrow Wilson, in addition to his other multitudinous
duties, put upon this task. Could they but understand the character of the
opposition he faced even in his own party ranks, and how in the midst of
one of Washington's most trying summers, without vacation or recreation of
any kind, he grappled with this problem in the face of stubborn
opposition, they would, perhaps, be willing to pay tribute to the
earnestness and sincerity of this man who finally placed upon the statute
books one of the greatest constructive pieces of legislation of half a
century. Having given his heart to this important task, whose enactment
into law was a boon to business and established for the first time in
America a "Democracy of Credit," as he was pleased to call it, he
relentlessly pursued his object until senators and representatives yielded
to his insistent request for the enactment of this law, not under the
stress of the party whip, but through arguments which he passionately
presented to those who sought his counsel in this matter.

During this time I gladly accepted the President's invitation to spend the
summer with him at the White House, where I occupied the bedroom that had
been used as Mr. Lincoln's Cabinet Room, and where Mr. Lincoln had signed
his famous Emancipation Proclamation. My presence, during that summer, as
a member of the President's family, gave me a good opportunity to see him
in action in his conferences in regard to the Federal Reserve Act. Never
was greater patience, forbearance, or fortitude, shown by a chief
executive under such trying circumstances. Day after day, when it seemed
as if real progress was being made, unexpected opposition would develop
and make it necessary to rebuild our shattered lines, until finally the
bill was out of the House and on its way to the Senate.

Its arrival in the Senate was but the beginning of what appeared an almost
interminable struggle. The President's stalwart adviser in the Treasury,
Mr. McAdoo, was always at hand to rally and give encouragement to our
forces, many of whom at times were in despair over the prospects of the
bill. The leaders of the opposition on the committee were Senator Root on
the Republican side and Senators O'Gorman and Reed on the Democratic.

It seemed at times as if they had succeeded in blocking an agreement on
the Conference Report. At last word was brought to the President by
Representative Glass that the opposition of these gentlemen might succeed
in killing the bill. The President up to this time, although fighting
against great odds, showed no impatience or petulancy, but the message
brought by Mr. Glass was the last straw. Looking at Mr. Glass, with a show
of fire and in a voice that indicated the impatience he felt, the
President said: "Glass, have you got the votes in the committee to
override these gentlemen [meaning O'Gorman and Reed]?" Glass replied that
he had. "Then," said the President, "outvote them, damn them, outvote
them!"

Mr. McAdoo came to the White House a few days later to make a report about
the situation in the Senate, with reference to the Federal Reserve Act.
His report was most discouraging as to the final passage of the bill. He
said that his information from the Hill was that the leaders of the
opposition in the Senate were bent upon a filibuster and that the
probabilities were that the Senate would finally adjourn without any
action being taken on the Federal Reserve Act.

This conversation took place on the White House portico, which overlooks
the beautiful Potomac and the hills of Virginia. It was one of the hottest
days in June, a day which left all of us who were about the President low
in spirit. Only those who know the depressing character of Washington's
midsummer heat can understand the full significance of this statement. The
President on this occasion was seated in an old-fashioned rocker, attired
in a comfortable, cool-looking Palm Beach suit. Mr. McAdoo reported the
situation in detail and said that, in his opinion, it was hopeless to try
to do more with the bill: that an impasse had been reached between the
Senate and the House. The President quickly interrupted Mr. McAdoo,
saying, with a smile: "Mac, when the boys at Princeton came to me and told
me they were going to lose a football game, they always lost. We must not
lose this game; too much is involved. Please say to the gentlemen on the
Hill who urge a postponement of this matter that Washington weather,
especially in these days, fully agrees with me and that unless final
action is taken on this measure at this session I will immediately call
Congress in extraordinary session to act upon this matter." This
challenge, brought to the Hill by Mr. McAdoo, quickly did the job and the
bill was soon on its way to the White House.

Mr. Wilson conducted the conferences in this matter with friends and foes
alike with a quiet mastery and good temper diametrically contrary to the
reports sedulously circulated for political purposes, that he was
autocratic and refused to cooperate with the members of the Senate and
House in an effort to pass legislation in which the whole country was
interested.

We have only to recall the previous attempts made by former
administrations to legislate upon the currency question, especially the
efforts of the Harrison and Cleveland administrations, to understand and
appreciate the difficulties that lay in the path of Woodrow Wilson in his
efforts to free the credit of the country from selfish control and to push
this vital legislation to enactment. Previous attempts had always resulted
in failure and sometimes in disaster to the administrations in control at
the time. The only evidences of these frequent but abortive efforts to
pass currency legislation were large and bulky volumes containing the
hearings of the expensive Monetary Commission that had been set up by
Senator Aldrich of Rhode Island. As an historian and man of affairs,
Woodrow Wilson realized the difficulties and obstacles that lay in his
path in attempting to reform the currency, but he was not in the least
daunted by the magnitude of the task which confronted him. He moved
cautiously forward and pressed for early action at the first session of
the Congress following his inauguration. He realized that with the passage
of the tariff legislation, which always acts as a business depressant, it
was necessary at the same time to have the stimulus the Currency Bill
would afford when enacted into law. The split of '96 in the Democratic
ranks over the money question was an additional reason for cautious and
well-considered action if the Federal Reserve Bill was to become a
reality.

The presence of Mr. Bryan in the Cabinet and his well-known views on this
question were strong reasons for watchful and careful prevision. It was
obvious to Mr. Wilson from the outset that insurmountable difficulties lay
in his path, but he brushed them aside as if they were inconsequential.

In the Committee on Banking and Currency, in both the Senate and House,
were many ardent and devoted friends of Mr. Bryan, who thought that his
radical views on the money question could be used as a rallying point for
opposition to the President's plan for currency reform. But those who
counted on Mr. Bryan's antagonism were doomed to disappointment and
failure, for while it is true that Mr. Bryan found serious objections to
certain parts of the bill, when these were eliminated he moved forward
with the President in the most generous fashion and remained with him
until the Federal Reserve Act was made part of the law of the land.

It was in a conference with members of the Banking and Currency Committee
that I first saw the President in action with the gentlemen of the Senate
and House. He had invited the Democratic members of the Banking and
Currency Committee to confer with him in the Cabinet Room in the White
House offices. From my desk in an anteroom I heard all the discussions of
the bill. There was full, open discussion of the bill in all its phases at
this conference in which were collected the conservatives of the East, the
radicalists of the West, and those who came to be known as the "corn
tassel" representatives of the South, all holding widely divergent views
and representing every shade of opinion, some of it sharply antagonistic
to the President's views. Some of the members were openly hostile to the
President, even in a personal way, particularly one representative from
the South, and some of the questions addressed to the President were
ungracious to the verge of open insult. It was an exasperating experience,
but Mr. Wilson stood the test with patience, betraying no resentment to
impertinent questions, replying to every query with Chesterfieldian grace
and affability, parrying every blow with courtesy and gentleness,
gallantly ignoring the unfriendly tone and manifest unfairness of some of
the questions, keeping himself strictly to the merits of the discussion,
subordinating his personal feelings to the important public business under
consideration, until all his interrogators were convinced of his sincerity
and fair-mindedness and some were ashamed of their own ungracious bearing.

It was clear to me as I watched this great man in action on this trying
occasion that in the cause he was defending he saw, with a vision
unimpaired and a judgment unclouded by prejudice or prepossessions, far
beyond the little room in which he was conferring. He saw the varied and
pressing needs of a great nation labouring now under a currency system
that held its resources as if in a strait-jacket. He saw in the old
monetary system which had prevailed in the country for many years a
prolific breeder of panic and financial distress. He saw the farmer of the
West and South a plaything of Eastern financial interests. And thus, under
the leadership of Woodrow Wilson was begun the first skirmish in the great
battle to free the credit of the country from selfish control, a movement
which led to the establishment of a financial system that ended for all
time the danger or possibility of financial panic.

There was an interesting incident in connection with the handling of the
currency legislation that brought about what threatened to be the first
rift in the President's Cabinet. It concerned Mr. Bryan's attitude of
opposition to certain features of the bill as drafted by the Banking and
Currency Committee of the House. My connection with this particular affair
arose in this way: In the early stages of the discussion of the Federal
Reserve Act, and while Mr. Glass's committee was considering the matter, a
messenger from the White House informed me that the President wished to
confer with me in his study. As I walked into the room, I saw at once from
his general attitude and expression that something serious was afoot and
that he was very much distressed. Turning around in his chair he said: "It
begins to look as if W. J. B. [he thus referred to Mr. Bryan] and I have
come to the parting of the ways on the Currency Bill. He is opposed to the
bank-note feature of the bill as drawn. We had a long discussion about the
matter after Cabinet meeting to-day. In thoroughly kindly way Mr. Bryan
informed me that he was opposed to that feature of the bill. Of course,
you know, W. J. B. and I have never been in agreement on the money
question. It is only fair, however, to say that in our discussion Mr.
Bryan conducted himself in the most generous way, and I was deeply touched
by his personal attitude of friendliness toward me. He even went so far as
to say that in order that I might not be embarrassed in the handling of
the bill, he was willing to resign and leave the country and make no
public criticism of the measure. In the meantime, Mr. Bryan has promised
to say nothing to any one about the matter until he has a further
discussion with me."

The President then frankly discussed with me the effect of the possible
resignation of Mr. Bryan. The President suggested that I drop in on Mr.
Bryan very soon and if possible casually invite a discussion of the
Federal Reserve Act, telling Mr. Bryan of his [the President's] interests
in it, and how much he appreciated Mr. Bryan's personal attitude toward
him.

I realized the seriousness and delicacy of the situation I was asked to
handle, and, being on the friendliest terms with Mr. Bryan, I telephoned
him and invited myself to his home--the old Logan Mansion, a beautiful
place in the northwest part of Washington. I found Mr. Bryan alone when I
arrived. We went at once to his library and, in a boyish way, he showed me
a picture which the President had autographed for him only a few days
previous. As we stood before this picture Mr. Bryan gave expression to his
sincere admiration and affection for the President. He related, with deep
feeling, how much Mr. Bryan had enjoyed his contact and official
companionship with him and how he had come to have a very deep affection
for him. As we turned away from the picture, he grew serious and began the
discussion of the very thing the President and I had conferred on only a
few hours before. He freely discussed his differences with the President
over the Federal Reserve Act, and asked me the direct question: "Who from
Wall Street has been discussing this bill with the President? I am afraid
that some of the President's friends have been emphasizing too much the
view of Wall Street in their conferences with the President on this bill."
I frankly told Mr. Bryan that this imputation did a great injustice to the
fine men with whom the President conferred on the matter of banking reform
and that I was certain that the President's only intimate advisers in this
matter were Mr. McAdoo, Senator Owen of Oklahoma, and Mr. Glass of
Virginia, and that I personally knew that in their discussions the
President never argued the point of view of the Eastern financial
interests. Mr. Bryan was reassured by my statement and proceeded to lay
before me his objections to the character of the currency issue provided
for in the bill. He then took from the library shelves a volume containing
all the Democratic National platforms and read excerpts from them bearing
upon the question of currency reform. He soon convinced me that there was
great merit in his contention. Before leaving him, I told him of my
interview with the President and how deeply distressed he [the President]
was that Mr. Bryan was not disposed to support him in the matter of the
Federal Reserve Act. It was evident that Mr. Bryan felt a keen sympathy
for the President and that he was honestly trying to find a way out of his
difficulties that would enable him to give the President his whole-hearted
support. He showed real emotion when I disclosed to him the personal
feelings of the President toward him, and I feel sure I left him in a more
agreeable frame of mind. I told him that I would talk with the President,
Mr. McAdoo, and Mr. Glass and report to him on the following day.

I returned to the President's study and reported to him in detail the
results of my conference with Mr. Bryan. I called his attention to Mr.
Bryan's criticism of the bill and then ventured the opinion that Mr.
Bryan, according to the traditional policy of the Democratic party, was
right in his attitude and that I felt that he [Mr. Wilson] was wrong. For
a moment the President showed a little impatience with this statement and
asked me to point out to him where the party in the National platforms had
ever taken the view Mr. Bryan indicated in his discussion with me. I then
showed him the book Mr. Bryan had given me, containing the Democratic
platforms, and he read very carefully plank after plank on the currency.
He finally closed the book, placed it on his desk, and said: "I am
convinced there is a great deal in what Mr. Bryan says." We then discussed
ways of adjusting the matter. I finally suggested that the President allow
me to talk with Mr. Glass and place before him Mr. Bryan's position and
that he have Mr. Glass confer with Secretary McAdoo and Senator Owen. This
was arranged. I had no way of ascertaining just what took place at this
conference, but after the Cabinet meeting on the following Tuesday Mr.
Bryan walked around to where the President was sitting, and said to him:
"Mr. President, we have settled our differences and you may rely upon me
to remain with you to the end of the fight." The President thanked him
cordially, and thus the first break in the Cabinet line was averted.




CHAPTER XXIII

RENOMINATED


As the days of the 1916 Convention at St. Louis approached, it was a
foregone conclusion that there would be no serious contender against the
President for the nomination and that he would win the prize by a
practically unanimous vote. While at times the friends of Mr. Bryan and
Mr. Clark were hopeful that the President might withdraw from the contest,
after the Democrats at the Convention were assured that the President was
ready to accept a renomination, the field was made clear for the setting
of the Convention stage to accomplish that end.

It was thought that the St. Louis Convention would be a trite affair; that
there would be no enthusiasm in it. This anticipation arose from the idea
expressed by many of the devoted friends of the Democratic party, that the
cause of Democracy in 1916 was little less than hopeless. Much of this
feeling came from the inordinately high estimate which many placed upon
Mr. Justice Hughes both as a candidate and as a campaigner. Indeed, many
Democrats who had canvassed the national situation felt that without a
continuation of the split in the ranks of the Republican party the road to
Democratic success was indeed a hard and difficult one to travel.

There is no doubt that in the opinion of the country Mr. Justice Hughes
was the strongest man the Republicans could put forward. The fact that he
was resigning from the Supreme Court bench and that he had a remarkably
progressive record as Governor of New York added a glamour and prestige to
this nomination. I, myself, never lost confidence, however, in our ability
to win. The Congressional elections of 1914, when the Democratic majority
in the House was reduced to thirty-five, had dispirited Democratic friends
throughout the country and made them feel that the nomination at St. Louis
would be a purely formal matter and without fruitful results.

In a letter addressed to Colonel Harvey in 1914 I had expressed the
opinion that the reduced Democratic majority in the Congressional
elections of 1914, which was being construed as an apparent defeat of the
party, was not a final judgment upon the work of the President and the
achievements of his administration; that it was not a reversal
irretrievable in character; that it should not depress the Democratic
workers throughout the country, and that the field of conquest for the
Democratic party in 1916 _was the West and the Pacific coast_. A calm
analysis of the election results in 1914 convinced me that if the
Presidential election of 1916 was to be won, our efforts for victory had
to be concentrated upon a cultivation of sentiment throughout the West in
favour of the Democratic cause.

My letter to Colonel Harvey is as follows:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    November 7, 1914.

    DEAR COLONEL HARVEY:

    Now that the clouds have cleared away, let me send you just a line or
    two expressing an opinion of last Tuesday's election.

    It is my feeling that we are making unmistakable gains in sections of
    the country where Democratic hopes never ran high before this time.
    Note the results in the states of Utah, Michigan, Minnesota,
    Wisconsin, South Dakota, North Dakota, Washington and California. It
    now appears from the returns, regardless of what the Eastern papers
    may say, that our majority in the House will be approximately from
    thirty-five to forty; that our majority in the Senate will be sixteen.

    We have elected for the first time in the history of the Democratic
    party, so far as I can recall, Democratic Senators in the great
    Republican States of California, Wisconsin and South Dakota. The gains
    we have made in the West, along the Pacific coast, are mighty
    interesting and show a new field of conquest for the Democratic party
    in 1916. To elect a congress, retaining a majority of the party in
    power, after a revision of the tariff, is unprecedented. Once before
    it happened, in 1897, after the passage of the Dingley Tariff Act when
    the Republican majority was reduced from 47 to 10. We are not in the
    least bit disturbed by the situation. We have for the first time
    elected Democratic Congressmen from the states of Utah, Washington,
    South Dakota and North Dakota.

    With best wishes, I am,
    Cordially and sincerely yours,
      J. P. TUMULTY,
     Secretary To The President.

    COLONEL GEORGE HARVEY,
      Hotel Chamberlain,
     Old Point Comfort, Virginia.

While the Democratic Convention was in session at St. Louis the President
remained in the White House, keeping in close touch by direct telephonic
communication with affairs there.

What at first appeared to be an ordinary and rather spiritless convention
was quickly turned into a most enthusiastic and fervent one by the notable
speeches of Governor Glynn, of New York, the temporary chairman of the
Convention, and Senator Ollie M. James, of Kentucky, the permanent
chairman.

The key-note speech delivered by Governor Glynn, contained this ringing
defense of the President's policy of neutrality:

    "This policy may not satisfy those who revel in destruction and find
    pleasure in despair. It may not satisfy the fire-eater or the
    swashbuckler but it does satisfy those who worship at the altar of the
    god of peace. It does satisfy the mothers of the land at whose hearth
    and fireside no jingoistic war has placed an empty chair. It does
    satisfy the daughters of the land from whom bluster and brag have sent
    no loving brother to the dissolution of the grave. It does satisfy the
    fathers of this land and the sons of this land who will fight for our
    flag, and die for our flag when Reason primes the rifle, when Honor
    draws the sword, when Justice breathes a blessing on the standards
    they uphold."

And Senator James in a masterly oration paid this splendid tribute to
Woodrow Wilson:

    "Four years ago they sneeringly called Woodrow Wilson the school-
    teacher; then his classes were assembled within the narrow walls of
    Princeton College. They were the young men of America. To-day he is
    the world teacher, his class is made up of kings, kaisers, czars,
    princes, and potentates. The confines of the schoolroom circle the
    world. His subject is the protection of American life and American
    rights under international law. The saving of neutral life, the
    freedom of the seas, and without orphaning a single American child,
    without widowing a single American mother, without firing a single
    gun, without the shedding of a single drop of blood, he has wrung from
    the most militant spirit that ever brooded above a battlefield an
    acknowledgment of American rights and an agreement to American
    demands."

These eloquent utterances prepared the way for the great slogan of the
1916 campaign: "_He kept us out of war._"

The President himself never used that slogan, however. From the first
declaration of hostilities in Europe he realized the precarious position
of the United States and the possibility that, whether we would or not, we
might be swept into the conflict. As early as August, 1914, he expressed
his anxious apprehension that "something might occur on the high seas
which would make our neutrality impossible." He emphatically believed at
that time that America's neutrality would best serve the interests of the
world; he respected the American tradition of noninterference in European
quarrels; with his almost mystic ability to assess and understand the
opinion of the people of the country at large he knew that the American
people did not want war; in his comparative seclusion he read the mind of
America clearer than did the "mixers" of the Pullman smoking compartments
who mistook the clamour for intervention among certain classes along the
north Atlantic seaboard for the voice of America at large; while the
German rape of Belgium stirred his passionate indignation, he knew that
there was no practical means by which the United States could stop it,
that we could not immediately transport armies to the theatre of war, and
that public opinion, especially in the West and South, was not prepared
for active intervention; and in addition to all this he was genuinely, not
merely professedly, a passionate lover of peace. But with all this he,
realizing the magnitude of the war, had already glimpsed its wider
significance, which caused him to say later that "this is the last war of
its kind, or of any kind that involves the world, that the United States
can keep out of. The business of neutrality is over." He saw that if the
war should continue long, as it promised to do, our participation might be
inevitable and the American tradition of isolation for ever destroyed by
circumstances beyond human control. With patience mingled with firmness,
he trod his difficult path, doing all he could to keep us from getting
involved without sacrificing fundamental principles of human and national
rights, but he neither believed nor pretended to believe that he could
give guaranties for the future. Nor did any of those who were closest to
him make rash promises. For instance, the Cabinet officers who actively
participated in the campaign were careful to say in their speeches that he
had done all that a president could honourably do to keep us out of war
and that he could be depended upon to continue in the future the same
course so long as it should prove humanly possible, for "peace" was not
merely a word on his lips but a passion in his heart, but that neither he
nor any other mortal could "look into the seeds of time" and say what
would be and what would not be. The event was on the knees of the gods.
Those who spoke with responsibility adhered strictly to the tense of the
verb, the past tense: "kept." None rashly used, explicitly or by
implication, the future tense: "will keep." In strictest truth they
recited what had been, and, from their knowledge of the President's
character and convictions, said that he would not be driven into war by
the clamour of his critics, that he would refrain from hostility so long
as it was humanly and honourably possible to refrain.

[Illustration:

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    CORNISH, N. H.,
      August 6, 1915

    Dear Tumulty:

    Thank you for sending me the editorials from the World and from Life.
    You don't need to have me tell you that I say Amen to everything that
    Life says in the article "Tumulty and Rome." The attitude of some
    people about this irritates me more than I can say. It is not only
    preposterous, but outrageous, and of course you know it never makes
    the slightest impression on me.

    Always
    Affectionately yours,
    (signed) Woodrow Wilson

    Hon. Joseph P. Tumulty,
      Secretary to the President.

Showing the President's confidence in and loyalty toward his secretary.]

The President had sent Secretary of War Baker to the Convention to
represent him before the various committees and to collaborate with the
Committee on Resolutions in the preparation of a suitable platform.

Shortly after Mr. Baker's arrival in St. Louis the question of the
attitude of the Convention and the party toward the "hyphen" vote came up
for consideration, and there were indications that certain members of the
Committee on Resolutions were inclined to ignore the matter of the hyphen
and to remain silent on this grave issue.

While the Committee on Resolutions was meeting at St. Louis, it was
reported to me by Mr. Henry C. Campbell, one of the editors of the
Milwaukee _Journal_, and a devoted friend, that the Democratic party,
through its representatives on the Committee on Resolutions, was engaged
in "pussyfooting" on the hyphen issue and that this would result in bitter
disappointment to the country. At the time of the receipt of this
telephone message from St. Louis the President was away from town for a
day and I called his attention to it in the following letter:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    June 13, 1916.

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    It is clear, as the editorial appearing in this morning's New York
    _World_ says, that the "hyphenate vote is a definite factor that
    cannot be discredited"; and that from the activities of the German-
    American Alliance every effort, as their own supporters declare,
    should be made to elect Justice Hughes. That there is abundant proof
    of this is clear, so that he who runs may read. This is evident from
    the attitude of the German-American press, and from the statements of
    professional German agitators, and from the campaign that has been
    carried on against you from the very beginning.

    I have not read the platform to be proposed by you. The only part that
    I have any knowledge of is that which you read to me over the
    telephone some nights ago; that had to do with the question of
    Americanism.

    Frankly, your mention of Americanism is on all fours with the
    declarations found in the Bull Moose and regular Republican platforms.
    The characteristic of all these references to Americanism is vagueness
    and uncertainty as to what is really meant. I believe that the time
    has come when the Democratic party should set forth its position on
    this vital matter in no uncertain terms. Efforts will soon be made,
    from stories now appearing in the newspapers, by professional German-
    Americans, to dominate our Convention, either in an effort to
    discredit you or to have embodied in the platform some reference to
    the embargo question, or a prohibition against the sale of munitions
    of war. We ought to meet these things in a manly, aggressive and
    militant fashion. It is for that reason that I suggest an open letter
    to the chairman of the Committee on Resolutions, setting forth your
    position in this matter so that the Convention may know before it
    nominates you the things for which you stand. Mr. Baker at the
    Convention will doubtless know when the representatives of the German-
    American Alliance make their appearance, asking for consideration at
    the hands of the Committee of their resolutions. As soon as they do,
    it appears to me to be the time for you to strike.

    I discussed this matter over the telephone yesterday with Mr. Henry C.
    Campbell, one of our devoted friends, and editor of the Milwaukee
    _Journal_. Mr. Frank Polk, Counsellor of the State Department, who was
    at the Convention, tells me that he was discussing this matter with
    Mr. Nieman, of the Milwaukee _Journal_, and that Mr. Nieman made the
    statement that both parties were "pussyfooting" and that he would not
    support the Democratic party unless its attitude in this matter was
    unequivocal. When Mr. Campbell discussed this matter with me over the
    telephone, I told him to send me a telegram, setting forth what he
    thought ought to find lodgment in the platform, by way of expressing
    our attitude in the matter. This morning I received the attached
    telegram from Senator Husting, expressing Mr. Campbell's and Mr.
    Nieman's views. The part I have underlined I think should be expressed
    in less emphatic language.

    The purpose of this letter, therefore, is to urge you as strongly as I
    can to address at once an open letter to the chairman of the Committee
    on Resolutions, expressing fully your views in the matter.

    TUMULTY.

As a result of the Husting telegram, the President wired Secretary Baker,
insisting upon a definite and unequivocal repudiation of the hyphen vote.
The President's "fighting" telegram to Baker which contained the substance
of Husting's telegram resulted in the insertion in the platform of the
following plank:

    Whoever, actuated by the purpose to promote the interest of a foreign
    power, in disregard of our own country's welfare or to injure this
    Government in its foreign relations or cripple or destroy its
    industries at home, and whoever by arousing prejudices of a racial,
    religious or other nature creates discord and strife among our people
    so as to obstruct the wholesome processes of unification, is faithless
    to the trust which the privileges of citizenship repose in him and is
    disloyal to his country. We, therefore, condemn as subversive of this
    nation's unity and integrity, and as destructive of its welfare, the
    activities and designs of every group or organization, political or
    otherwise, that has for its object the advancement of the interest of
    a foreign power, whether such object is promoted by intimidating the
    Government, a political party, or representatives of the people, or
    which is calculated and tends to divide our people into antagonistic
    groups and thus to destroy that complete agreement and solidarity of
    the people and that unity of sentiment and purpose so essential to the
    perpetuity of the nation and its free institutions. We condemn all
    alliances and combinations of individuals in this country of whatever
    nationality or descent, who agree and conspire together for the
    purpose of embarrassing or weakening the Government or of improperly
    influencing or coercing our public representatives in dealing or
    negotiating with any foreign power. We charge that such conspiracies
    among a limited number exist and have been instigated for the purpose
    of advancing the interests of foreign countries to the prejudice and
    detriment of our own country. We condemn any political party which in
    view of the activity of such conspirators, surrenders its integrity or
    modifies its policy.

There is no doubt that for a while after the Convention at Chicago which
nominated Mr. Hughes there was deep depression in the ranks of our party
throughout the country, the opinion being that the former Supreme Court
Justice was an invincible foe. I had engaged in sharp controversies with
many of my friends, expressing the view that Mr. Hughes would not only be
a sad disappointment to the Republican managers, but that in his
campaigning methods he would fall far short of the expectations of his
many Republican friends.

Previous to the nomination of Mr. Hughes the President was his cordial
admirer and often spoke to me in warm and generous terms of the work of
Mr. Hughes as Governor of New York, which he admired because of its
progressive, liberal character. Previous to the Republican Convention, he
and I had often discussed the possible nominee of the Republican
Convention. The President, for some reason, could not be persuaded that
Mr. Justice Hughes was a serious contender for the nomination and often
expressed the opinion that the idea of a nomination for the Presidency was
not even remotely in the thoughts of the then Justice of the Supreme
Court. I did not share this view. Although the newspaper men who conferred
with Justice Hughes from day to day at his home in Washington informed me
of the Judge's feelings toward the nomination for the Presidency, I was
always strongly of the opinion that the Justice was in no way indifferent
to the nomination and that he was not inclined to go out of his way
publicly to resent the efforts that his friends were making to land it for
him. When I expressed the opinion to the President, that as a matter of
fact Mr. Justice Hughes was a candidate and was doing nothing outwardly to
express his disapproval of the efforts being made by his friends, the
President resented my statements.

There was a warm feeling of friendship on the part of all the members of
the President's family toward Mr. Justice Hughes, and at the Sayre
wedding, held in the White House, one of Justice Hughes' sons had played a
prominent part. Owing to the personal feelings of friendship of the whole
Wilson family for Mr. Hughes, the curt character of the Justice's letter
of resignation to the President deeply wounded the President and the
members of his family who had been Mr. Hughes' stout defenders and
supporters.

I recall that on the day Mr. Hughes was nominated, and after the news of
his nomination was published throughout the country, there came to the
Executive offices a coloured messenger, bearing the following abrupt note
to the President:

    SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES,
      WASHINGTON, D. C.

    June 10, 1916.

    TO THE PRESIDENT:

    I hereby resign the office of Associate Justice of the Supreme Court
    of the United States.

    I am, Sir,
    Respectfully yours,
      CHARLES E. HUGHES.

When I brought this letter of resignation to the White House the President
was in conference with that sturdy Democrat from Kentucky, Senator Ollie
M. James. When the President read the letter and observed its rather harsh
character he was deeply wounded and disappointed. When he showed it to
Senator James, the Senator read it and advised that by reason of its
character the President ought not to dignify it by any acknowledgment. The
President turned quickly to the Kentucky statesman and said: "No, my dear
Senator, the President of the United States must always do the gentlemanly
thing."

The President replied to Mr. Hughes in the following note:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    June 10, 1916.

    DEAR MR. JUSTICE HUGHES:

    I am in receipt of your letter of resignation and feel constrained to
    yield to your desire. I, therefore, accept your resignation as Justice
    of the Supreme Court of the United States to take effect at once.

    Sincerely yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

    HON. CHARLES E. HUGHES,
      Washington, D. C.

On the first of August, 1916, I prepared the following memorandum which
explained my feelings regarding the campaign of 1916 and what appeared to
me to be the weakness of the Republican party and the strength of our own
candidacy:

    One of the principal arguments upon which the Republican managers lay
    great stress in favour of Hughes' candidacy is his strength as a
    campaigner as evidenced in his Youngstown speech delivered years ago
    in a campaign in which Mr. Bryan was the leader of the Democratic
    hosts. The strength of that speech lies in its cool analysis of the
    attitude of a great emotional orator [Bryan] on public questions at a
    time when the Democracy was advocating economic principles of doubtful
    strength and virtue. In other words, the position of Justice Hughes in
    that campaign was that of attacking an economic principle which had
    cut the Democratic party in two.

    The position of Hughes as a candidate in this the [1916] campaign will
    be radically different for he will have to face a candidate
    representing a united party; one whose power of analysis is as great
    as Hughes', and to this will be added this feature of strength in the
    Democratic candidate--the power of appeal to the emotional or
    imaginative side of the American people. Added to this will be the
    strength of conviction in urging his cause that comes to a man who has
    passed through a world crisis amid great dangers and who has brought
    to consummation substantial (not visionary) achievements unparalleled
    in the political history of the country. He will not speak to the
    country as the representative of a party divided in its counsels or as
    a dreamer or doctrinaire, but rather will he stand before the country
    as the practical idealist, defending, not apologizing for, every
    achievement of his administration.

    In his Youngstown speech, Justice Hughes found no difficulty in
    attacking the economic theories of Bryan. In this attack he not only
    had the sympathy of his own party but there came to him the support of
    many Democrats. In this campaign he will have to attack achievements
    and not principles of doubtful virtue. _I predict that the trip of
    Hughes to the West will be a disastrous failure._

When Justice Hughes' Western trip was announced, there was consternation
in the ranks of the Democratic party, especially those Democrats with whom
I came in contact in Washington. They declared that he would make a
tremendous impression on the West and that he would destroy that great
salient, and make it impossible for the Democrats to make any gains there.

In a letter which I addressed to Mr. Raymond T. Baker, Director of the
Mint, I expressed the opinion that Mr. Hughes' Western trip would prove as
distinct a disappointment to his friends as had his speech of acceptance.
The letter is as follows:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    August 4, 1916.

    DEAR RAY:

    You have rightly sensed the feelings of the East as to the Hughes
    speech of acceptance, and I was indeed glad to know from your
    telegram, which came as welcome news from you, that the sentiment that
    the speech was a hit-and-miss affair was well nigh universal
    throughout the West.

    There is no apparent slump that I can find here in Democratic ranks;
    the same buoyancy and optimism which pervaded the whole Washington
    atmosphere while you were here still predominate.

    _My belief is that Hughes' trip to the West will prove another
    distinct disappointment to his friends._ A candidate following the
    path of expediency as exemplified by Hughes will find himself in an
    unenviable position in the West, merely criticizing, finding fault,
    and setting forth no policy of a constructive character.

    _As I told you and the boys some weeks ago, Mr. Hughes is going to
    prove a distinct disappointment as a candidate._ He is so eager for
    the office that he will follow any path that may lead to it, even
    though it may be the rough path of expediency. We face the foe
    unafraid, and will soon have our big guns trained upon the frowning
    fortresses of the enemy. They look formidable at this time, but as we
    approach them it is my belief that they will be found to be made of
    cardboard and will fall at the touch of the President's logic and the
    record of his great achievements.

    Sincerely yours,
      TUMULTY.

    MR. RAYMOND T. BAKER,
      Oakland, California.




CHAPTER XXIV

THE ADAMSON LAW


Between the Democratic Convention and the time of his departure for his
summer home at Long Branch, New Jersey, the President was engaged in
Washington in completing the most important items of his legislative
programme, including the Income Tax, Child Labour Law, and the Adamson
Eight-Hour Law.

A disastrous strike, involving the whole system of railroad
transportation, now seemed imminent. At this critical juncture the
President intervened. On August 13th he invited the disputants, before
reaching any final decision, to confer with him personally at Washington.
His intervention evoked general expressions of relief and approval.

At these conferences the railway men stood firm for an eight-hour day. The
railway managers refused these demands. How to meet this grave situation,
which if not checked might have resulted in giving Germany a victory, was
one of the pressing problems that confronted the President that critical
summer. Not only were American business interests involved in this matter,
but the Allied governments of western Europe, then in the throes of the
great war, were no less anxious, for a railroad strike would have meant a
cutting off of the supplies to the Allied forces that were so much needed
at this important juncture.

The President sent for the Brotherhood representatives and for the
managers, to confer with him at the White House, and suggested arbitration
by way of settling the controversy. The labour leaders, conscious of their
strength, refused to arbitrate. The railroad managers were equally
obdurate. I well remember the patience of the President at these
conferences day after day. He would first hold conferences with the
Brotherhood representatives and then with the railroad managers; but his
efforts were unavailing. It is regrettable that the men on both sides were
indifferent to the President's appeal and apparently unmindful of the
consequences to the country that would inevitably follow a nation-wide
strike.

I remember what he said to me as he left the Green Room at the conclusion
of his final conference with the heads of the Brotherhoods. Shaking his
head in a despairing way, he said: "I was not able to make the slightest
impression upon those men. They feel so strongly the justice of their
cause that they are blind to all the consequences of their action in
declaring and prosecuting a strike. I was shocked to find a peculiar
stiffness and hardness about these men. When I pictured to them the
distress of our people in case this strike became a reality, they sat
unmoved and apparently indifferent to the seriousness of the whole bad
business. I am at the end of my tether, and I do not know what further to
do."

His conferences with the managers were equally unproductive of result.
Gathered about him in a semicircle in his office, they were grim and
determined men, some of them even resentful of the President's attempt to
suggest a settlement of any kind to prevent the strike. I shall never
forget his last appeal to them. I sat in a little room off the Cabinet
room and could hear what went on. Seated about him were the heads of all
the important railroads in the country. Looking straight at them, he said:
"I have not summoned you to Washington as President of the United States
to confer with me on this matter, for I have no power to do so. I have
invited you merely as a fellow-citizen to discuss this great and critical
situation. Frankly, I say to you that if I had the power as President I
would say to you that this strike is unthinkable and must not be permitted
to happen. What I want you to see, if you will, is the whole picture that
presents itself to me and visualize the terrible consequences to the
country and its people of a nation-wide strike at this time, both as
affecting our own people and in its effect upon the Allied forces across
the sea. For a moment I wish you to forget that I am President, and let us
as fellow-citizens consider the consequences of such action. A nation-wide
strike at this time would mean absolute famine and starvation for the
people of America. You gentlemen must understand just what this means.
Will your interests be served by the passions and hatreds that will flow
from such an unhappy condition in the country? If this strike should
occur, forces will be released that may threaten the security of
everything we hold dear. Think of its effect upon the people of this
country who must have bread to eat and coal to keep them warm. They will
not quietly submit to a strike that will keep these things of life away
from them. The rich will not suffer in case these great arteries of trade
and commerce are temporarily abandoned, for they can provide themselves
against the horror of famine and the distress of this critical situation.
It is the poor unfortunate men, and their wives and children, who will
suffer and die. I cannot speak to you without a show of emotion, for, my
friends, beneath the surface in America there is a baneful seething which
may express itself in radical action, the consequences of which no man can
foresee. In asking your cooperation to settle this dispute I am but
striving, as we stand in the shadow of a great war, to keep these forces
in check and under control."

Getting closer to the men, and lowering his voice, he said: "The Allies
are fighting our battle, the battle of civilization, across the way. They
cannot 'carry on' without supplies and means of sustenance which the
railroads of America bring to them. I am probably asking you to make a
sacrifice at this time, but is not the sacrifice worth while because of
the things involved? Only last night I was thinking about this war and its
far-reaching effects. No man can foresee its extent or its evil effects
upon the world itself. It is a world cataclysm, and before it ends it may
unsettle everything fine and wholesome in America. We of America, although
we are cut off from its terrible sweep, cannot be unmindful of these
consequences, for we stand in the midst of it all. We must keep our own
house in order so that we shall be prepared to act when action becomes
necessary. Who knows, gentlemen, but by to-morrow a situation will arise
where it shall be found necessary for us to get into the midst of this
bloody thing? You can see, therefore, that we must go to the very limit to
prevent a strike that would bring about a paralysis of these arteries of
trade and commerce. If you will agree with me in this matter, I will
address Congress and frankly ask for an increase of rates and do
everything I can to make up for the loss you may sustain. I know that the
things I ask you to do may be disagreeable and inconvenient, but I am not
asking you to make a bloody sacrifice. Our boys may be called upon any
minute to make that sacrifice for us."

On August 29, 1916, the President appeared before a joint session of the
Congress and recommended immediate legislation to avert the impending
strike. Following this, the chairman of the Interstate Commerce Commission
of the House, Mr. Adamson, of Georgia, brought in a bill, now known as the
Adamson Eight-Hour Law, which, after several unsuccessful attempts by
members of the House and Senate to amend it, was signed by the President
on September 5th.




CHAPTER XXV

GERMAN PROPAGANDA


Early in January, 1916, German sympathizers throughout the country began a
drive on both Houses of Congress for the passage of a resolution warning
or forbidding Americans to travel on passenger ships belonging to citizens
or subjects of the belligerent nations. Petitions of various kinds,
demanding vigorous action in this matter, began to pour in upon us at the
White House from various parts of the country. While these petitions were
signed by many devoted, patriotic Americans, it was clear to those of us
who were on the inside of affairs that there lay back of this movement a
sinister purpose on the part of German sympathizers in this country to
give Germany full sway upon the high seas, in order that she might be
permitted to carry on her unlawful and inhuman submarine warfare. This
movement became so intense that leading Democratic and Republican senators
and representatives soon became its ardent advocates, until it looked as
if the resolution might pass with only a small minority found in
opposition to it. Those of us who were in the Executive offices, and
intimately associated with the President, kept in close touch with the
situation on Capitol Hill and were advised that the movement for the
resolution was in full swing and that it could not be checked. A
resolution was finally introduced by Representative McLemore, of Texas,
and quickly received the support of Senator Gore of Oklahoma, and Senator
Stone of Missouri, chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations. What
the attitude of the President should be toward it was the subject of
discussion between the President, two of his Cabinet officers, and myself,
after a session of the Cabinet early in February, 1916.

The President was advised by the Cabinet officers with whom he conferred
regarding the matter that it would be a hopeless task on his part to
attempt to stem the tide that was now running in favour of the passage of
the McLemore resolution, and that were he to attempt to prevent its
passage it might result in a disastrous defeat of his leadership, that
would seriously embarrass him on Capitol Hill and throughout the nation.

At the conclusion of this conference the President asked me whether my
information about affairs on Capitol Hill and the attitude of the members
of the House and Senate toward the McLemore resolution was in accord with
the information he had just received from his Cabinet officers. I told him
that it was, but that so far as I was concerned I did not share the
opinion of the Cabinet officers and did not agree with the advice which
they had volunteered, to the effect that it would be useless for him to
throw down the gage of battle to those who sought to pass the McLemore
resolution. I informed him that regardless of what the attitude of those
on Capitol Hill was toward the resolution, he could not afford to allow
the matter to pass without a protest from him, and that, indeed, he could
afford to be defeated in making a fight to maintain American rights upon
the high seas. The discussion between the President, the Cabinet officers,
and myself became heated. They were reluctant to have the President go
into the fight, while I was most anxious to have him do so. Evidently,
what I said made an impression upon the President and he asked me, as our
conference was concluded, to let him have as soon as possible a memorandum
containing my views upon the subject.

Shortly after the conference, Senator Stone, chairman of the Committee on
Foreign Relations of the Senate, asked for an appointment with the
President, to confer with him on the next morning, February 25th,
regarding the McLemore resolution. I suggested to the President that
inasmuch as Senator Stone was to see him in the morning it would be wise
and prudent if, in answer to his letter asking for an appointment, the
President should frankly state his views with reference to the proposed
resolution. The President acted upon this suggestion and the letter was
immediately dispatched to Senator Stone.

My letter to the President, advising him of the situation, was as follows:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    February 24, 1916.

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    What I have heard since leaving you this morning confirms me in my
    belief that now is the time (before the night passes) to set forth
    your position to the country on the McLemore resolution in terms that
    no one can misunderstand. In the last hour I have talked with Speaker
    Clark, Senator Pittman, and Mr. Sims of Tennessee, and have received
    impressions from them which lead me to conclude: first, that the
    consideration of this resolution cannot much longer be postponed, as
    Speaker Clark so informed me, although Congressman Doremus and Senator
    Pittman say the situation on the hill is quieting down. I am more than
    convinced that underlying this resolution is a purpose to discredit
    your leadership, for the forces that are lined up for this fight
    against you are the anti-preparedness crowd, the Bryan-Kitchen-Clark
    group, and some of the anti-British Senators like Hoke Smith and Gore.
    Therefore, I cannot urge you too strongly at once to send an identic
    letter to both Representative Flood, chairman of the Foreign Relations
    Committee of the House, and Senator Stone, chairman of the Foreign
    Relations Committee of the Senate. The letter, in my opinion, should
    embody the following ideas:

    First, explain in the frankest fashion just what Secretary Lansing
    attempted to obtain when he suggested to the Entente nations an
    agreement on the arming of merchantmen, how this government was
    informed by Germany of her intention to destroy armed merchantmen
    without giving the passengers a moment of warning, and how, in order
    to stave off such a contingency, we tried as the friend and in the
    interest of humanity to get an agreement between both sides that would
    bring submarine warfare within the bounds of international law.

    Second, explain that a possible adjustment of this matter is in
    process of negotiation right now, and that, of course, while we cannot
    change international law upon our own initiative, we are still of the
    hope that some general agreement among the belligerents may eventually
    be obtained. Explain how embarrassing such a resolution as the
    McLemore one will be to negotiations now being threshed out between
    the executive branches of the Government charged with the conduct of
    foreign relations, and foreign governments.

    Third, then say that in the absence of any general agreement, the
    United States cannot yield one inch of her rights without destroying
    the whole fabric of international law, for in the last analysis this
    is what is involved. To yield one right to-day means another to-
    morrow. We cannot know where this process of yielding on the ground of
    convenience or expediency may lead us. These laws are the product of
    centuries. Our forefathers fought to establish their validity, and we
    cannot afford for the sake of convenience when our very life is
    threatened, to abandon them on any ground of convenience or
    expediency.

    Fourth, to pass such a resolution at this time would seriously
    embarrass the Department of State and the Executive in the conduct of
    these most delicate matters at a time when everything is being done to
    bring about a peaceful solution of these problems.

    Fifth, might you not diplomatically suggest, in your letter to Senator
    Stone, that to pass favorably upon a resolution of this kind at this
    time would be showing lack of confidence in the Government, and
    particularly in its Chief Executive?

    The morning papers have outlined the details of the opposition among
    the Democrats. The afternoon papers are repeating the same thing with
    emphasis on the fact that Joe Cannon, Jim Mann, and Lodge are going to
    support you. I would suggest that you insert the following in your
    letter to Senator Stone:

        "I think that not only would such a vote on this resolution be
        construed as a lack of confidence in the executive branch of the
        Government in this most delicate matter but if the division
        continues as I am informed within the ranks of the Democratic
        party, it will be difficult for me to consider that the majority
        party speaks the will of the nation in these circumstances and as
        between any faction in my party and the interests of the nation, I
        must always choose the latter, irrespective of what the effect
        will be on me or my personal fortunes. What we are contending for
        in this matter is of the very essence of the things that have made
        America a sovereign nation. She cannot yield them without
        admitting and conceding her own impotency as a nation and the
        surrender of her independent position among the nations of the
        world."

    Sincerely,
      TUMULTY.

The letter of the President to Senator Stone was published in the morning
papers of February 25, 1916, and is as follows:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    February 25, 1916.

    MY DEAR SENATOR:

    I very warmly appreciate your kind and frank letter of to-day, and
    feel that it calls for an equally frank reply. You are right in
    assuming that I shall do everything in my power to keep the United
    States out of war. I think the country will feel no uneasiness about
    my course in that respect. Through many anxious months I have striven
    for that object, amid difficulties more manifold than can have been
    apparent upon the surface, and so far I have succeeded. I do not doubt
    that I shall continue to succeed.

    The course which the central European powers have announced their
    intention of following in the future with regard to undersea warfare
    seems for the moment to threaten insuperable obstacles, but its
    apparent meaning is so manifestly inconsistent with explicit
    assurances recently given us by those powers with regard to their
    treatment of merchant vessels on the high seas that I must believe
    that explanations will presently ensue which will put a different
    aspect upon it. We have had no reason to question their good faith or
    their fidelity to their promises in the past, and I for one feel
    confident that we shall have none in the future.

    But in any event our duty is clear. No nation, no group of nations,
    has the right, while war is in progress, to alter or disregard the
    principles which all nations have agreed upon in mitigation of the
    horrors and sufferings of war; and if the clear rights of American
    citizens should very unhappily be abridged or denied by any such
    action we should, it seems to me, have in honour no choice as to what
    our own course should be.

    For my own part I cannot consent to any abridgment of the rights of
    American citizens in any respect. The honour and self-respect of the
    nation is involved. We covet peace, and shall preserve it at any cost
    but the loss of honor. To forbid our people to exercise their rights
    for fear we might be called upon to vindicate them would be a deep
    humiliation, indeed. It would be an implicit, all but an explicit,
    acquiescence in the violation of the rights of mankind everywhere and
    of whatever nation or allegiance. It would be a deliberate abdication
    of our hitherto proud position as spokesmen, even amid the turmoil of
    war, for the law and the right. It would make everything this
    government has attempted and everything that it has accomplished
    during this terrible struggle of nations meaningless and futile.

    It is important to reflect that if in this instance we allowed
    expediency to take the place of principle the door would inevitably be
    opened to still further concessions. Once accept a single abatement of
    right, and many other humiliations would follow, and the whole fine
    fabric of international law might crumble under our hands piece by
    piece. What we are contending for in this matter is of the very
    essence of the things that have made America a sovereign nation. She
    cannot yield them without conceding her own impotency as a nation and
    making virtual surrender of her independent position among the nations
    of the world.

    I am speaking, my dear Senator, in deep solemnity, without heat, with
    a clear consciousness of the high responsibilities of my office and as
    your sincere and devoted friend. If we should unhappily differ, we
    shall differ as friends, but where issues so momentous as these are
    involved we must, just because we are friends, speak our minds without
    reservation.

    Faithfully yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

    SENATOR WILLIAM J. STONE,
      United States Senate.

The publication of the letter of the President to Senator Stone worked a
complete reversal of opinion on the Hill.

Quickly the effect of the President's letter was seen, and the McLemore
resolution was overwhelmingly defeated.

Early in August, 1916, the President took up his residence at Shadow Lawn,
New Jersey, and began the preparation of his speech of acceptance. He
forwarded me a draft of this speech which brought from me the following
comment upon it:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    August 22, 1916.

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    I think the failure to bring out the hyphen question in your speech of
    acceptance will be vigorously criticized even by our loyal friends.
    Mr. Hughes will soon be compelled to speak out on this question.
    Roosevelt's speeches in the main will force him to do this. You might
    open the subject in that part of your speech in which you discuss
    neutrality, showing the embarrassments under which you have laboured
    in trying to keep the Nation at peace. After discussing these
    embarrassments, consisting of plots against our industries, etc.,
    could you not introduce a sentence like this?: "While I am the
    candidate of the Democratic party, I am above all else an American
    citizen. I neither seek the favour nor fear the wrath of any alien
    element in America which puts loyalty to any foreign power first."

    As to Huerta: I believe your reference to him could be strengthened. I
    think you ought to bring out the fact that the work of assassination
    shall never receive the endorsement, so far as you are concerned, of
    this American Republic. I suggest the following: "The United States
    will refuse, so long as that power remains with me, to extend the hand
    of welcome to one who gains power in a republic through treachery and
    bloodshed." (This is not only sound statesmanship but good morals.)
    "No permanency in the affairs of our sister republics can be attained
    by a title based upon intrigue and assassination."

    Respectfully,
      TUMULTY.

The President, always welcoming advice, approved and embodied some of
these suggestions in his speech of acceptance.

It has often been said by unfair critics that Mr. Wilson was so tenacious
of his own opinion and views that he resented suggestions from the outside
in any matter with which he was called upon to deal.

As an intimate associate of his for eleven years, I think I was in a
position to find out and to know how unfair the basis of this criticism
really was. In my contact with public men I never met a more open-minded
man; nor one who was more willing to act upon any suggestion that had
merit in it. I have seen him readily give up his own views and often yield
to the influence of a better argument. I always felt free in every public
matter that he discussed and in every attitude which he took on public
questions frankly to express my own opinion and openly to disagree with
him. In his speeches and public statements he had no pride of opinion, nor
did he attempt to hold his friends off at arms' length when they had
suggestions of any kind to make.

[Illustration:

    Dear Tumulty,

    Here is the expurgated stuff. Do what you please with it.

    W. W.

           *       *       *       *       *

    19 Nov., 1916.

    Dear Tumulty,

    Here is the message. I wish you would read it and give me your
    impression of it.

    And please keep it very carefully from any eyes but your own. It is
    still in provisional shape only, and there are a number of points I am
    still keeping under advisement.

    Faithfully,
    (signed) W. W.

           *       *       *       *       *

    17 May, 1916.

    THE WHITE HOUSE.
    WASHINGTON.

    Dear Tumulty,

    Thank you for the memorandum about peace suggestions. I have read it
    very carefully and find my own thoughts travelling very much the same
    route. You may be sure I am doing a great deal of serious thinking
    about it all.

    Faithfully,
    (signed) W. W.

Some insights into day-to-day affairs at the White House]

In these reminiscences I am including my letters to him, embodying
suggestions of various kinds, many of which he acted upon and many of
which he rejected, in order that proof may be given of the fact, that
despite what his critics may say, he not only did not resent suggestions,
but openly invited them.




CHAPTER XXVI

WILSON VERSUS HUGHES


After the delivery of the speech of acceptance on September 2nd quiet
ruled over the Wilson camp at Shadow Lawn. This lull in the matter of
politics was intensified by the President's absence from Shadow Lawn
because of the death of his only sister, which called him away and for a
while took his mind and his energies from the discussion of politics.

On September 11th, the state elections in Maine were carried by the
Republicans. The total vote was the largest ever cast in Maine in a state
election. The Republican majorities ranged from 9,000 to 14,000. There had
been a vigorous contest in Maine by both parties and the Republicans were
greatly heartened by the result in the hope that "as goes Maine so goes
the Union."

There is no doubt that the result in Maine, which many Democrats were of
the opinion was a forecast of the results throughout the nation in
November, had a depressing effect. The Republicans accepted it as a
harbinger of victory and the Democrats as an indication of defeat. On the
night of the Maine elections I kept close to the telephone at the
Executive offices and engaged in conferences with two or three practical
politicians from New Jersey. It was interesting to watch the effects of
the returns from Maine upon these men. When the returns, as complete as we
could get them at twelve o'clock on the night of September 11th, came in,
James Nugent, one of the leading politicians of Essex County, New Jersey,
who was in the room, took from my desk a copy of the "World Almanac", and
referring to the returns of previous elections, said: "Of course, the
Republicans will hail this as a great victory, but if they will sit down
and analyze the gains they have made, they will find no comfort in them,
for to me they indicate a Democratic victory in November. If the Democrats
make proportionate gains in other states, you can absolutely count upon a
Democratic victory in 1916."

This prophecy was verified by the results of the election of November 7th.

It was difficult and almost impossible between the date of the speech of
acceptance and the first of October to revive interest in the Democratic
campaign and to bring about a renewal of hope of success that had almost
been destroyed by the psychological results of the Maine election.

Frequent demands were made upon us at the Executive offices at Asbury Park
to get busy and to do something. "Wilson was not on the front page and
Hughes was busily engaged in campaigning throughout the West." But the
President in his uncanny way knew better than we the psychological moment
to strike. He went about his work at the Executive offices and gave to us
who were closely associated with him the impression that nothing unusual
was afoot and that no Presidential campaign was impending. I made frequent
suggestions to him that he be up and doing. He would only smile and calmly
say: "The moment is not here. Let them use up their ammunition and then we
will turn our guns upon them."

The psychological moment came, and the President took full advantage of
it. One afternoon in September the President telephoned me at the
Executive offices at Asbury Park to have the newspaper men present for a
conference that afternoon; that he would give out a reply to a telegram he
had received. With the newspaper group, I attended this conference. It
appeared that an Irish agitator named Jeremiah O'Leary, who had been
organizing and speaking against the President and trying to array the
Irish vote against him, wrote an offensive letter to the President,
calling attention to the results of the Maine elections and to the New
Jersey primaries, and to his anticipated defeat in November. The President
handed to the newspaper men the following reply to O'Leary:

    I would feel deeply mortified to have you or anybody like you vote for
    me. Since you have access to many disloyal Americans and I have not, I
    will ask you to convey this message to them.

This sharp and timely rebuke to the unpatriotic spirit to which O'Leary
gave expression won the hearty and unanimous approval of the country to
the President. Nothing like this bold defiance came from Hughes until a
few days before the election.

The Democratic campaign, within twenty-four hours after the publication of
the O'Leary telegram, was on again in full swing.

At this same newspaper conference the President, who had not seen the
newspaper group since his arrival at Long Branch, discussed the campaign,
so that they might have what he called the "inside of his mind." His
criticism of the campaign that Justice Hughes was conducting contained
bitter irony and, sarcasm. Evidently, the petty things to which Mr. Hughes
had adverted in his campaign speeches by way of criticizing the President
and his administration had cut the President to the quick. One of the
newspaper men asked him what he thought of Mr. Hughes' campaign, and he
laughingly replied: "If you will give that gentleman rope enough he will
hang himself. He has forgotten many things since he closeted himself on
the bench, and he will soon find himself out of touch with the spirit of
the nation. His speeches are nothing more or less than blank cartridges
and the country, unless I mistake the people very much, will place a true
assessment upon them."

The newspaper men left this conference heartened by the reply he had made
to O'Leary and with the firm conviction that the Democratic candidate was
just "playing" with Hughes and would pounce upon him at the psychological
moment.

In the delivery of the campaign speeches at Shadow Lawn each Saturday
afternoon President Wilson took full advantage of the swing toward the
Democratic side which was manifest after the publication of the famous
O'Leary telegram. While the Republican candidate was busily engaged in
invading the West in his swing around the circle, the Democratic candidate
each week from his porch at Shadow Lawn was delivering sledge-hammer blows
at the Republican breastworks. As the Republican candidate in an effort to
win the West was heaping maledictions upon Dr. E. Lester Jones, the head
of the Geodetic Survey, a Wilson appointee, the President calmly moved on,
ripping to pieces and tearing to shreds the poor front behind which the
Republican managers were seeking to win the fight.

Mr. Hughes campaigned like a lawyer, Mr. Wilson like a statesman. Mr.
Hughes was hunting small game with bird shot, Mr. Wilson trained heavy
artillery on the enemies' central position. The essential difference
between the two men and the operations of their minds was made clear in
the campaign. No one would wish to minimize the unusual abilities of Mr.
Hughes, but they are the abilities of an adroit lawyer. He makes "points."
He pleases those minds which like cleverness and finesse. He deals with
international affairs like an astute lawyer drawing a brief. But has he
ever quickened the nation's pulse or stirred its heart by a single
utterance? Did he ever make any one feel that behind the formalities of
law, civil or international, he detected the heartbeats of humanity whom
law is supposedly designed to serve? Mr. Wilson was not thinking of Mr.
Hughes, but perhaps he was thinking of the type of which Mr. Hughes is an
eminent example when he said in Paris: "This is not to be a lawyers'
peace."

Every speech of President Wilson's was, to use a baseball phrase, a home
run for the Democratic side. They were delivered without much preparation
and were purely extemporaneous in character. The Republican opposition
soon began to wince under the smashing blows delivered by the Democratic
candidate, and outward proof was soon given of the fear and despair that
were now gathering in the Republican ranks. With a few short trips to the
West, and his final speech at Long Branch, President Wilson closed his
campaign, with Democratic hopes on the rise.

The happenings of Election Day, 1916, will long linger in my memory. I was
in charge of the Executive offices located at Asbury Park, while the
President remained at Shadow Lawn, awaiting the news of the first returns
from the country. The first scattered returns that filtered in to the
Executive offices came from a little fishing town in Massachusetts early
in the afternoon of Election Day, which showed a slight gain for the
President over the election returns of 1912. Then followed early drifts
from Colorado and Kansas, which showed great Wilson gains. Those of us who
were interested in the President's cause were made jubilant by these early
returns. Every indication, though imperfect, up to seven o'clock on the
night of the election, forecasted the President's reëlection.

In the early afternoon the President telephoned the Executive offices to
inquire what news we had received from the country and he was apprised of
the results that had come in up to that time. Then, quickly, the tide
turned against us in the most unusual way. Between seven and nine o'clock
the returns slowly came in from the East and Middle West that undeniably
showed a drift away from us.

About nine-thirty o'clock in the evening I was seated in my office, when a
noise outside in the hallway attracted my attention and gave me the
impression that something unusual was afoot. The door of my office opened
and there entered a galaxy of newspaper men connected with the White House
offices, led by a representative of the New York _World_, who held in his
hands a bulletin from his office, carrying the news of Hughes' election.
The expression in the men's faces told me that a crisis was at hand. The
_World_ man delivered his fateful message of defeat for our forces,
without explanation of any kind. To me the blow was stunning, for the New
York _World_ had been one of our staunchest supporters throughout the
whole campaign and yet, I had faith to believe that the news carried in
the bulletin would be upset by subsequent returns. Steadying myself behind
my desk, I quickly made up my mind as to what my reply should be to the
_World_ bulletin and to the query of the newspaper men whether we were
ready to "throw up the sponge" and concede Hughes' election. Concealing
the emotion I felt, I dictated the following statement, which was flashed
through the country:

    When Secretary Tumulty was shown the _World_ bulletin, conceding
    Hughes' election, he authorized the following statement: "Wilson will
    win. The West has not yet been heard from. Sufficient gains will be
    made in the West and along the Pacific slope to offset the losses in
    the East."

Shortly after the flash from the _World_ bulletin was delivered to me,
conceding Hughes' election, the President again telephoned me from Long
Branch to find out the latest news of the election. From what he said he
had already been apprised by Admiral Grayson of the bulletin of the New
York _World_. Every happening of that memorable night is still fresh in my
memory and I recall distinctly just what the President said and how
philosophically he received the news of his apparent defeat. Laughingly he
said: "Well, Tumulty, it begins to look as if we have been badly licked."
As he discussed the matter with me I could detect no note of sadness in
his voice. In fact, I could hear him chuckle over the 'phone. He seemed to
take an impersonal view of the whole thing and talked like a man from
whose shoulders a great load had been lifted and now he was happy and
rejoicing that he was a free man again. When I informed him of the drifts
in our favour from other parts of the country and said that it was too
early to concede anything, he said: "Tumulty, you are an optimist. It
begins to look as if the defeat might be overwhelming. The only thing I am
sorry for, and that cuts me to the quick, is that the people apparently
misunderstood us. But I have no regrets. We have tried to do our duty." So
far as he was concerned, the issue of the election was disposed of, out of
the way and a settled thing. That was the last telephone message between
the President and myself until twenty-four hours later, when the tide
turned again in our favour.

An unusual incident occurred about 8:30 o'clock in the evening, shortly
after my talk with the President. I was called to the telephone and told
that someone in New York wished to speak to me on a highly important
matter. I went to the 'phone. At the other end in New York was an
individual who refusing to give his name, described himself as a friend of
our cause. I thought he was one of the varieties of crank, with whom I had
been accustomed to deal at the White House on frequent occasions during my
life there; but there was something about his talk that convinced me that
he was in close touch with someone in authority at Republican
headquarters. In his first talk with me, and in subsequent talks during
the night of the election and on the following day, there was a warning to
us, in no way, or by the slightest sign, to give up the fight, or to
concede Hughes' election. He said: "Early returns will naturally run
against Wilson in the East, particularly in Illinois and Iowa," and
intimated to me that the plan at Republican headquarters would be to
exaggerate these reports and to overwhelm us with news of Republican
victories throughout the country. Continuing his talk he said: "The Wilson
fight will be won in the West. I shall keep you advised of what is
happening in Republican headquarters. I can only tell you that I will
_know_ what is happening and you may rely upon the information I shall
give you."

All night long the loyal newspaper men and I kept vigil at the Executive
offices. As I read over the bulletins that came to me, particularly those
from Republican headquarters in New York, I was quick to notice that
although the Republican managers were blatantly proclaiming to the country
that the fight was over, for some reason or other, the Republican
candidate, Mr. Hughes, who was at his headquarters at the Hotel Astor, was
silent.

Just about this time there was another message from the mysterious
stranger in New York. The message, as I recall it, was as follows: "They
[meaning the Republican managers] are trying to induce Hughes to claim the
election, but he is unwilling to make an announcement and is asking for
further returns. You boys stand pat. Returns that are now coming in are
worrying them. Don't be swept off your feet by claims from Republican
headquarters. I know what is happening there."

Shortly after this telephone message came a bulletin from Republican
headquarters, stating that the Republican managers were then in conference
with Mr. Hughes and that a statement from Mr. Hughes would soon be
forthcoming. This unusual coincidence convinced me that the man who was
telephoning me either was on the inside of affairs at Republican
headquarters, or had an uncanny way of knowing just what the managers were
doing.

Up to eleven o'clock every bit of news ran against us. Finally, the
Brooklyn _Eagle_, a supporter of the President, and then the New York
_Times_, our last line of defense, gave way and conceded Hughes' election,
but the unterrified Democrats at the Executive offices stood out against
any admission of defeat.

The mysterious stranger was again on the wire, saying that there was
consternation in the Republican ranks; that George Perkins had just
conferred with National Chairman Willcox and had left Willcox's room,
shaking his head and saying to one of the attachés of headquarters, that
"things were not looking well." A few minutes later a bulletin came from
Republican headquarters confirming the story the mysterious stranger had
just told over the 'phone.

All the while I was keeping in touch with our headquarters in New York
City, and about 10:30 o'clock Robert W. Woolley, the publicity man of the
Democratic National Committee, 'phoned me and advised me not to concede
anything and assured me that the returns from the West, now coming in
greater drifts, indicated Wilson's reelection.

When I left the telephone booth, David Lawrence, the Washington
correspondent of the New York _Evening Post_, who a few weeks before had
predicted, in a remarkable article, the election of Wilson, and who was my
friend and co-labourer during that night (in conjunction with Mr. L. Ames
Brown, a noted newspaper man of Washington, connected with the Democratic
National Committee) conferred with me, and from a table he had prepared
showed me how the small states of the West, which the returns indicated
were now coming into the Wilson column, would elect the Democratic
candidate, and that under no circumstances must we, by any chance, in any
statement, concede the election of Hughes.

All night long telephone messages, very brief, would come from the
mysterious stranger in New York, and quickly there would follow bulletins
from Republican headquarters confirming everything that he said. These
messages came so rapidly that I was soon convinced that this individual,
whoever he was, had the real inside of the Republican situation. So
convinced was I that I followed up my statement of the early evening with
additional statements, claiming the election for Mr. Wilson.

Just about the break of day on Wednesday morning, as David Lawrence, Ames
Brown, and my son Joe, were seated in my office, a room which overlooked a
wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, we were notified by Democratic
headquarters of the first big drift toward Wilson. Ohio, which in the
early evening had been claimed by the Republicans, had turned to Wilson by
an approximate majority of sixty thousand; Kansas followed; Utah was
leaning toward him; North Dakota and South Dakota inclining the same way.
The Wilson tide began to rise appreciably from that time on, until state
after state from the West came into the Wilson column. At five o'clock in
the morning the New York _Times_ and the New York _World_ recanted and
were now saying that the election of Mr. Hughes was doubtful.

Without sleep and without food, those of us at the Executive offices kept
close to the telephone wire. We never left the job for a minute. The last
message from the mysterious stranger came about one o'clock, the day
following the election, when he 'phoned me that, "George Perkins is now at
Republican headquarters and is telephoning Roosevelt and will soon leave
to inform Roosevelt that, to use his own words, 'the jig is up,' and that
Wilson is elected." Shortly after, from Republican headquarters came a
bulletin saying: "George Perkins is on his way to confer with Mr.
Roosevelt."

Some months after the election the mysterious stranger came to the White
House offices, and without identifying himself, informed me that he was
the individual who on the night of the election had kept me in touch with
Republican headquarters, and then astounded me by telling me that in some
mysterious way, which he did not disclose, he had succeeded in breaking in
on the Republican National Committee wire and had listened in on every
conversation that had passed between Willcox, Hughes, George Perkins,
Harvey, and Theodore Roosevelt himself during the night of the election
and the day following.

Mr. Wilson arose the morning after the election, confident that he had
been defeated. He went about his tasks in the usual way. The first news
that he received that there had been a turn in the tide came from his
daughter, Margaret, who knocked on the door of the bathroom while the
President was shaving and told him of the "Extra" of the New York _Times_,
saying that the election was in doubt, with indications of a Wilson
victory. The President thought that his daughter was playing a practical
joke on him and told her to "tell that to the Marines," and went on about
his shaving.

When the President and I discussed the visit of his daughter, Margaret, to
notify him of his reëlection, he informed me that he was just beginning to
enjoy the reaction of defeat when he was notified that the tide had turned
in his favour. This will seem unusual, but those of us who were close to
the man and who understood the trials and tribulations of the Presidency,
knew that he was in fact for the first time in four years enjoying the
freedom of private life.

Mr. Wilson's imperturbability on election night was like that of sturdy
Grover Cleveland, though temperamentally the men were unlike. Mr.
Cleveland used to tell his friends how in 1884 he had gone to bed early
not knowing who was elected, and how he learned the news of his election
next morning from his valet, after having first made inquiries about the
state of the weather. In 1892 Mr. Cleveland, his wife, and two friends
played a quiet game of cards while the returns were coming in. In reciting
these reminiscences, the old warrior used to say that he never could
understand the excitement of candidates on election nights. "The fight is
all over then," he would say, "and it is merely a matter of counting the
ballots." Mr. Wilson preserved the same calmness, which appeared almost
like indifference. In 1912 he sat in the sitting room of his little
cottage in Cleveland Lane in Princeton quietly reading from one of his
favourite authors and occasionally joining in the conversation of Mrs.
Wilson and a few neighbours who had dropped in. In a rear room there was a
telegraphic ticker, an operator, and some newspaper boys who at intervals
would take an especially interesting bulletin in to Mr. Wilson, who would
glance at it casually, make some brief comment, and then return to his
book. One of the guests of the evening who read in a newspaper next day a
rather melodramatic and entirely imaginative account of the scene, said:
"The only dramatic thing about the evening was that there was nothing
dramatic."




CHAPTER XXVII

NEUTRALITY


While President Wilson was giving his whole thought and effort to the
solution of exacting domestic tasks, the European war broke upon him and
thus turned his attention and study to the age-long and complicated
political struggle between Germany, France, and England.

Fully conscious from the very beginning of the difficulties that lay in
his path, he was aware of the eventualities the war now beginning might
lead to. As a profound student of history he saw with a clear vision the
necessity of neutrality and of America remaining disentangled in every way
from the embroilments of Europe. To the people of the country it at first
appeared that the war was one more in a long series of European quarrels
and that we must play our part in the great conflict as mere spectators
and strictly adhere to the American policy of traditional aloofness and
isolation, which had been our immemorial custom and habit. Although we
were bound to maintain a policy of isolation, Woodrow Wilson from the
beginning foresaw its futility, and afterward gave expression to this
conviction in a campaign speech in 1916, when he said:

    This is the last war [meaning the World War] of its kind or of any
    kind that involves the world that the United States can keep out of. I
    say that because I believe that the business of neutrality is over;
    not because I want it to be over, but I mean this, that war now has
    such a scale that the position of neutrals sooner or later becomes
    intolerable.

He knew how difficult it would be to keep a people so variously
constituted strictly neutral. No sooner was his proclamation of neutrality
announced than the differences in points of view in racial stocks began to
manifest themselves in language both intemperate and passionate, until his
advice to his country "to be neutral in fact as well as in name" became a
dead and spiritless thing.

I have often been asked if the policy of neutrality which the President
announced, and which brought a fire of criticism upon him, represented his
own personal feelings toward the European war, and whether if he had been
a private citizen, he would have derided it as now his critics were
engaged in doing.

As an intimate associate of Woodrow Wilson during the whole of the
European war, and witnessing from day to day the play of his feelings,
especially after the violation of the neutrality of Belgium, I am certain
that had he been free to do so he would have yielded to the impulse of
championing a cause that in his heart of hearts he felt involved the
civilization of the world. But it was his devotion to the idea of
trusteeship that held him in check, and the consciousness that in carrying
out that trusteeship he had no right to permit his own passionate feelings
to govern his public acts.

It would have been a dramatic adventure to accept Germany's assault on
Belgium as a challenge to the humane interest of America, but the
acceptance would have been only a gesture, for we were unable to transport
armies to the theatre of war in time to check the outrage. Such action
would have pleased some people in the East, but the President knew that
this quixotic knight errantry would not appeal to the country at large,
particularly the West, still strongly grounded in the Washingtonian
tradition of non-interference in European quarrels.

Colonel Roosevelt himself, who subsequently attacked so strongly the
"pusillanimity" of the Administration's course, said on September 23,
1914:

    A deputation of Belgians has arrived in this country to invoke our
    assistance in the time of their dreadful need. What action our
    government can or will take I know not. It has been announced that no
    action can be taken that will interfere with our entire neutrality. It
    is certainly eminently desirable that we should remain entirely
    neutral and nothing but urgent need would warrant breaking our
    neutrality and taking sides one way or the other.

It was not the policy of a weakling or a timid man. It was the policy of a
prudent leader and statesman, who was feeling his way amid dangers and who
as an historian himself knew the difficulties of an imprudent or
incautious move.

I recall the day he prepared his neutrality proclamation. At the end of
one of the most strenuous days of his life in Washington, he left the
Executive offices where he was engaged in meeting and conferring with
senators and congressmen, and I found him comfortably seated under an elm
tree, serenely engaged with pad and pencil in preparing his neutrality
proclamation, which was soon to loose a fierce storm of opposition and
ridicule upon him. He and I had often discussed the war and its effect
upon our own country, and one day in August, 1914, just after the Great
War had begun, he said to me: "We are going through deep waters in the
days to come. The passions now lying dormant will soon be aroused and my
motives and purposes at every turn will soon be challenged until there
will be left but few friends to justify my course. It does not seem clear
now, but as this war grows in intensity it will soon resolve itself into a
war between autocracy and democracy. Various racial groups in America will
seek to lead us now one way and then another. We must sit steady in the
boat and bow our heads to meet the storm."

Bound as he was by the responsibilities of trusteeship to adhere to a
policy of neutrality, personally he saw that the inevitable results would
be only bitter disappointment. "We cannot remain isolated in this war," he
said, "for soon the contagion of it will spread until it reaches our own
shores. On the one side Mr. Bryan will censure the Administration for
being too militaristic, and on the other we will find Mr. Roosevelt
criticizing us because we are too pacifist in our tendencies."

Dr. William E. Dodd, in his book "Woodrow Wilson and His Work," has sensed
the complicated situation in which the President found himself: "The
British blockade, becoming more effective every day, barred the way of
American goods to Germany and even neutral countries. Hoke Smith and a
score of southern senators and representatives urged him to protest
against the blockade. Representatives of the packers of Chicago and the
farmers of the Northwest urged him to open the way to hungry markets for
their goods. He made his fight during the autumn of 1914 and 1915 against
all the more drastic phases of the British blockade, against British
interference with our cargoes for neutral ports." Every artificial device
for increasing our trade with neutral countries was suggested by those who
sought his aid and counsel in the matter. Cotton of all the commodities
was the hardest hit. When a friend from Georgia urged action by the
President to help in the matter of cotton, the President tried to impress
upon him that, with the World War in progress, the law of supply and
demand was deeply affected and that the sales of cotton were necessarily
restricted by reason of the closure of certain markets to our goods. This
friend, in urging his views upon the President, said: "But you, Mr.
President, can suspend the law of supply and demand." The President
responded fey saying: "If I did, Judge, and you ran your head up against
it, you might get hurt."

Every sympathizer with Germany pursued the President relentlessly with
insistent demand that England should be brought to book for the
unreasonable character of the blockade which she was carrying on against
our commerce on the high seas. The President in every diplomatic way
possible pressed America's claims against England, but these demands did
not satisfy the German sympathizers throughout the country who covertly
sought to bring about a real breach between the two countries. Even I felt
that we should go further in our demands upon England than the President
seemed willing to go.

The pressure upon us at the White House for satisfaction at the hands of
England grew more intense with each day. I recall a conversation I had
with the President shortly before the Congressional elections when the
President's political enemies were decrying his kind treatment of England
and excoriating him for the stern manner in which he was holding Germany
to strict accountability for her actions. This conversation was held while
we were on board the President's train on our way to the West. After
dinner one evening I tactfully broached the subject of the British
blockade and laid before the President the use our enemies were making of
his patient action toward England. My frank criticism deeply aroused him.
Replying to me he pitilessly attacked those who were criticizing him for
"letting up on Great Britain." Looking across the table at me he said: "I
am aware of the demands that are daily being made upon me by my friends
for more vigorous action against England in the matter of the blockade; I
am aware also of the sinister political purpose that lies back of many of
these demands. Many senators and congressmen who urge radical action
against England are thinking only of German votes in their districts and
are not thinking of the world crisis that would inevitably occur should
there be an actual breach at this time between England and America over
the blockade." Then looking squarely at me, he said: "I have gone to the
very limit in pressing our claims upon England and in urging the British
Foreign Office to modify the blockade. Walter Page, our Ambassador to
England, has placed every emphasis upon our insistence that something be
done, and something will be done, but England, now in the throes of a
great war crisis, must at least be given a chance to adjust these matters.
Only a few days ago Mr. Page wrote me a most interesting letter,
describing the details of a conference he had had with Sir Edward Grey,
the British Foreign Secretary, to discuss our protests against the British
blockade. Mr. Page described the room in which the conference was held, on
the wall of which was hung as a memorial the fifteen-million-dollar check
with which Great Britain paid the _Alabama_ claims in the Civil War. Mr.
Page pointed to this _Alabama_ check and said: 'If you don't stop these
seizures, Sir Edward, some day you will have your entire room papered with
things like that.' Sir Edward replied: 'That may be so, but we will pay
every cent. Of course, many of the restrictions we have laid down and
which seriously interfere with your trade are unreasonable. But America
must remember that we are fighting her fight, as well as our own, to save
the civilization of the world. You dare not press us too far!'" Turning to
me, the President said: "He was right. England is fighting our fight and
you may well understand that I shall not, in the present state of the
world's affairs, place obstacles in her way. Many of our critics suggest
war with England in order to force reparation in these matters. War with
England would result in a German triumph. No matter what may happen to me
personally in the next election, I will not take any action to embarrass
England when she is fighting for her life and the life of the world. Let
those who clamour for radical action against England understand this!"

While the critics of the President were busily engaged in embarrassing and
"hazing" him at every point and insisting upon a "show-down" with Great
Britain over the blockade, the world was startled on May 7, 1915, by the
news of the sinking of the _Lusitania_, off the coast of Ireland,
resulting in the loss of many American lives. A few days later came the
news that the German people were rejoicing at the fine stroke of the
submarine commander in consummating this horrible tragedy.

The President's critics who, a few days before, were assailing him for his
supposed surrender to England, were now demanding an immediate declaration
of war against Germany, but not for a moment did the President waver
before these clamorous demands. To such an extent did he carry this
attitude of calmness and steadiness of purpose that on "the outside" the
people felt that there was in him a heartlessness and an indifference to
the deep tragedy of the _Lusitania_. At my first meeting with him I tried
to call to his attention many of the tragic details of the sinking of the
great ship in an effort to force his hands, so to speak, but he quickly
checked what appeared to be my youthful impetuosity and said: "Tumulty, it
would be much wiser for us not to dwell too much upon these matters." When
he uttered this admonition there was no suggestion of coldness about him.
In fact, he seemed to be deeply moved as I adverted to some of the facts
surrounding this regrettable and tragic affair. At times tears stood in
his eyes, and turning to me he said: "If I pondered over those tragic
items that daily appear in the newspapers about the _Lusitania_, I should
see red in everything, and I am afraid that when I am called upon to act
with reference to this situation I could not be just to any one. I dare
not act unjustly and cannot indulge my own passionate feelings."

Evidently he saw that his turning away from the topic in this apparently
indifferent way did not sit well with me. Quickly he understood my
dissatisfaction and said: "I suppose you think I am cold and indifferent
and little less than human, but, my dear fellow, you are mistaken, for I
have spent many sleepless hours thinking about this tragedy. It has hung
over me like a terrible nightmare. In God's name, how could any nation
calling itself civilized purpose so horrible a thing?"

At the time we were discussing this grave matter we were seated in the
President's study in the White House. I had never seen him more serious or
careworn. I was aware that he was suffering under the criticism that had
been heaped upon him for his apparent inaction in the matter of the
_Lusitania_. Turning to me he said: "Let me try to make my attitude in
this matter plain to you, so that you at least will try to understand what
lies in my thoughts. I am bound to consider in the most careful and
cautious way the first step I shall take, because once having taken it I
cannot withdraw from it. I am bound to consider beforehand all the facts
and circumstances surrounding the sinking of the _Lusitania_ and to
calculate the effect upon the country of every incautious or unwise move.
I am keenly aware that the feeling of the country is now at fever heat and
that it is ready to move with me in any direction I shall suggest, but I
am bound to weigh carefully the effect of radical action now based upon
the present emotionalism of the people. I am not sure whether the present
emotionalism of the country would last long enough to sustain any action I
would suggest to Congress, and thus in case of failure we should be left
without that fine backing and support so necessary to maintain a great
cause. I could go to Congress to-morrow and advocate war with Germany and
I feel certain that Congress would support me, but what would the country
say when war was declared, and finally came, and we were witnessing all of
its horrors and bloody aftermath. As the people pored over the casualty
lists, would they not say: 'Why did Wilson move so fast in this matter?
Why didn't he try peaceably to settle this question with Germany? Why
could he not have waited a little longer? Why was he so anxious to go to
war with Germany, yet at the same time why was he so tender of the
feelings of Great Britain in the matter of the blockade?' Were I to advise
radical action now, we should have nothing, I am afraid, but regrets and
heartbreaks. The vastness of this country; its variegated elements; the
conflicting cross-currents of national feelings bid us wait and withhold
ourselves from hasty or precipitate action. When we move against Germany
we must be certain that the whole country not only moves with us but is
willing to go forward to the end with enthusiasm. I know that we shall be
condemned for waiting, but in the last analysis I am the trustee of this
nation, and the cost of it all must be considered in the reckoning before
we go forward."

Then leaning closer to me, he said: "It will not do for me to act as if I
had been hurried into precipitate action against Germany. I must answer
for the consequences of my action. What is the picture that lies before
me? All the great nations of Europe at war, engaged in a death grapple
that may involve civilization. My earnest hope and fervent prayer has been
that America could withhold herself and remain out of this terrible mess
and steer clear of European embroilments, and at the right time offer
herself as the only mediating influence to bring about peace. We are the
only great nation now free to do this. If we should go in, then the whole
civilized world will become involved. What a pretty mess it would be!
America, the only nation disconnected from this thing and now she is
surrendering the leadership she occupies and becomes involved as other
nations have. Think of the tragedy! I am not afraid to go to war. No man
fit to be President of this nation, knowing the way its people would
respond to any demand that might be made upon them, need have fears or
doubts as to what stand it would finally take. But what I fear more than
anything else is the possibility of world bankruptcy that will inevitably
follow our getting into this thing, Not only world chaos and bankruptcy,
but all of the distempers, social, moral, and industrial, that will flow
from this world cataclysm. No sane man, therefore, who knows the dangerous
elements that are abroad in the world would, without feeling out every
move, seek to lead his people without counting the cost and
dispassionately deliberating upon every move."

In a speech delivered at Helena, Montana, he frankly spoke of the "break
down" of neutrality in these words:

    In the Providence of God, the leadership of this nation was intrusted
    to me during those early years of the war when we were not in it. I
    was aware through many subtle channels of the movements of opinion in
    this country, and I know that the thing that this country chiefly
    desired, the thing that you men out here in the West chiefly desired
    and the thing that of course every loving woman had at her heart, was
    that we should keep out of the war, and we tried to persuade ourselves
    that the European business was not our business. We tried to convince
    ourselves that no matter what happened on the other side of the sea,
    no obligation of duty rested upon us, and finally we found the
    currents of humanity too strong for us. We found that a great
    consciousness was welling up in us that this was not a local cause,
    that this was not a struggle which was to be confined to Europe, or
    confined to Asia, to which it had spread, but that it was something
    that involved the very fate of civilization; and there was one great
    nation in the world that could not afford to stay out of it. There are
    gentlemen opposing the ratification of this treaty who at that time
    taunted the Administration of the United States that it had lost touch
    with its international conscience. They were eager to go in, and now
    that they have got in, and are caught in the whole network of human
    conscience, they want to break out and stay out. We were caught in
    this thing by the action of a nation utterly unlike ourselves. What I
    mean to say is that the German nation, the German people, had no
    choice whatever as to whether it was to go into that war or not, did
    not know that it was going into it until its men were summoned to the
    colours. I remember, not once, but often, that while sitting at the
    Cabinet table in Washington I asked my colleagues what their
    impression was of the opinion of the country before we went into the
    war, and I remember one day one of my colleagues said to me: "Mr.
    President, I think the people of the country would take your advice
    and do what you suggested." "Why," I said, "that is not what I am
    waiting for; that is not enough. If they cannot go in with a whoop
    there is no use of their going in at all. I do not want them to wait
    on me. I am waiting on them. I want to know what the conscience of
    this country is speaking. I want to know what purpose is arising in
    the minds of the people of this country with regard to this world
    situation." When I thought I heard that voice, it was then that I
    proposed to the Congress of the United States that we should include
    ourselves in the challenge that Germany was giving to mankind.

On May 10, 1915, he made a speech in Philadelphia, which contained the
regrettable and much-criticized phrase, "Too proud to fight."
Unfortunately, the headlines of the papers carried only the phrase, "Too
proud to fight," and little or no attention was paid to the context of the
speech in which the phrase was lodged. As a matter of fact, there was
nothing unusual about the character of this speech. The phrase, "Too proud
to fight," was simply expressive of the President's policy since the
outbreak of the war. It was not a new thought with him. Some weeks before
he had said the same thing, only in different words, in a speech delivered
at a banquet of the Associated Press in New York: "My interest in the
neutrality of the United States is not a petty desire to keep out of
trouble. I am interested in neutrality because there is something so much
greater to do than fight. There is a distinction awaiting this nation that
no nation has ever yet got. That is the distinction of absolute self-
control and mastery." The phrase, "Too proud to fight," was simply
expressive of the idea that was close to his heart: a reliance upon means
of settling our difficulties with Germany other than a resort to war. On
our way to Philadelphia on the day of the delivery of this speech I read a
copy of it which the President handed to me, and when I ran across the
phrase, "Too proud to fight," I scented the political danger in it and
warned him, but he declined to be admonished because he was confident in
the moral strength of his position, namely, that self-mastery is sometimes
more heroic than fighting, or as the Bible states it, "He that ruleth his
own spirit is greater than he that taketh a city," and trusted the people
to understand his full meaning. The President himself was so above the
petty tricks by which politicians wrest words from their context and force
upon them unfavourable meaning that he sometimes incautiously played into
the hands of this type of foe. Nor did he fully realize that his gift for
making striking and quotable phrases added to the danger. It was an
unfortunate phrase, "Too proud to fight," but none who thoughtfully read
the context with unprejudiced mind could fail to see the moral grandeur of
the President's position.




CHAPTER XXVIII

PREPAREDNESS


The feelings of the people throughout the country began to be aroused as
they witnessed the outlawry of Germany in ruthlessly attacking and
wantonly interfering with American commerce on the high seas. The
agitation for preparedness to meet a critical world situation was on in
full swing. Congress and the President were harassed by conflicting
demands from every side immediately to "put our house in order" and to set
America safely on the road to national preparedness. Theodore Roosevelt
was clamorously demanding universal compulsory military service and was
ably aided by General Wood and Admiral Peary, who urged the adoption of
conscription. Secretary of War Garrison and Senator Chamberlain, of
Oregon, were converted to this radical movement and unwittingly became
part and parcel of the Roosevelt-Wood preparedness propaganda. These
gentlemen could see only the direct route to the accomplishment of the
purpose they had in mind and were alike unmindful of the difficulties and
obstacles that lay in the President's path. To them it appeared that all
it was necessary for the President to do was boldly to announce his
programme of preparedness and serenely to await its approval at the hands
of Congress. They were unmindful of the difficulties of the situation and
of the consummate tact that Would be required on the part of the President
to induce Congress to turn away from the old volunteer system and to put
into effect at once a system that overnight would transform America into
an armed camp. The President was bound to consider the stern actualities
of the situation and to withhold himself as far as possible from a too
vigorous insistence on any programme of preparedness that was not
traditionally, fundamentally American. It was a case of honest men seeing
the same thing in the same way but differing as to the practicable means
of accomplishing it. The President early realized that the volunteer
system was unsuited to our present needs and that it could not be quickly
turned into an active force to answer emergencies, but he was certain,
also, that the people of the country must be convinced of this before they
would agree to cut themselves away from the volunteer system under which
previous American wars had been fought to a successful conclusion. The
President felt that the old volunteer system was antiquated and not to be
considered, but the duty lay upon him to convince the leaders of the
Senate and House and the people that this was a fact. This was no easy
task to accomplish. Haste or impetuous action on his part in advocating
conscription could only, in his opinion, delay matters and embarrass the
very purpose that lay in his mind.

While Roosevelt and Garrison were criticizing Congressional inaction, the
President's mind was "open and to let" on the question of what constituted
the best means of putting America in a state of actual and aggressive
preparedness. As President, he was bound to take cognizance of the deep-
seated antagonism on the part of the American people to any system of
military preparedness that had a compulsory feature as its basic element.
It was the President's opinion that the people of a country so big and
varied as America had to be convinced by alternative methods as to what,
in the last analysis, was the best means of preparing the country against
aggression.

While he was convinced that we had to be prepared and ready to meet any
emergency, he was not to be rushed in the matter and was keeping his mind
open to find the best and most practical method of accomplishing what he
thought the average opinion of the country demanded in the way of
preparedness.

I had often discussed the matter with the President and, watching the
agitation for preparedness from the side-lines, had stated my views in
letters reading in part as follows:

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    In my opinion, there is left to the Republican party but two available
    issues for the campaign of 1916,--the tariff and the question of
    national defense. How we are to meet the enemy on these questions is a
    subject which we ought thoroughly to consider and discuss in the
    coming months.

    As to National Defense: In this matter we must have a sane, reasonable
    and workable programme. That programme must have in it, the
    ingredients that will call forth the hearty support of, first, the
    whole Cabinet (and particularly the Secretary of War); second, the
    leaders of the party in the Senate and House; third, the rank and file
    of Democrats in both Houses; fourth, the Army and the Navy; and last
    but not least, the great body of the American people.

    Successfully to carry through this programme will tax your leadership
    in the party to the last degree. On the eve of the campaign of 1916,
    your attitude and accomplishment in this matter will be accepted by
    the country as the final test of your leadership and will be of
    incalculable psychological importance to the party; and, therefore, in
    the carrying out of this programme we cannot afford to hesitate or to
    blunder, because as election day approaches trivial mistakes will be
    magnified and exaggerated by the opposition, to the hurt and injury of
    our party and your prestige as leader.

    TUMULTY.

    THE PRESIDENT,
      Cornish, New Hampshire.

           *       *       *       *       *

    MY DEAR GOVERNOR:

    I cannot impress upon you too forcibly the importance of an appeal to
    the country at this time on the question of preparedness. No matter
    what the character of the information is that you are receiving, I
    have it from all sources that there is no enthusiasm on the "hill" for
    preparedness, and that the country itself is indifferent because of
    its apparent inability to grasp the importance and full significance
    of this question. This indifference arises out of two things: first,
    the attitude of the pacifists whose feelings have been nurtured by the
    preachings of Mr. Bryan; second, the attitude of those in the country
    who believe in preparedness and who are frightened because of the big
    talk of Roosevelt and others on their plan for military conscription.

    There is no doubt how the body of the American people feel on this
    question of preparedness. You can, therefore, with much greater
    reason, address them on this question and with greater force and
    earnestness. I am afraid if you delay in this matter, it will be too
    late to act, because our enemies are already busy and active.

    If some unfortunate thing should arise in international affairs or in
    Mexico within the next few weeks and announcement came then that you
    were to make an appeal to the country, it would appear as an anti-
    climax and an attempt upon your part to retrieve yourself. Now is the
    psychological moment to make your plea for national defense and
    incidentally to discuss Mexico and our foreign relations. In other
    words, you must ask the country to accept your leadership or the
    leadership of others who can't lead. Your voice is the only
    responsible voice in America that can speak with certainty, authority,
    and calmness as to the need for preparedness. There is no doubt of the
    will of a large majority of our people, but it lacks articulate
    expression. I am sure they will not fail to respond.

    TUMULTY.

Upon conferring with the President in the matter of preparedness, I found
that he had been slowly and patiently revolving the whole matter in his
own mind and was then considering the advisability of taking a direct
message to the people concerning the situation and was only awaiting the
psychological moment to strike.

On January 27, 1916, the President commenced his tour of the North and
Middle West, assuming the leadership of the movement for preparedness that
had been started by his opponents, and called the attention of the country
to the critical world situation and to the necessity that America "put her
house in order." In St. Louis he declared that America must have
comparably the greatest navy in the world. It was noticeable in his
speeches that he never employed the term "universal military service" and
that he was careful to explain that there was to be no militarism in the
country.

When the President returned from his preparedness tour, he found himself
at the centre of conflicting views as to method; on the one hand,
Representative Hay of the Military Affairs Committee, advocated the use of
the National Guard as the new army; on the other hand, Secretary Garrison
advocated an increase of the Regular Army to 142,000 men and a new
"continental army" of 400,000 men, with reserves of state militia. It was
the recurrent conflict between the Army and Congress, between the military
department's desire for a strong force and Congress' fear of "militarism."
The Garrison plan met with decided opposition in the House, and upon the
President's refusal to lend support to his Secretary of War in the
programme he had outlined in his report of 1915, Mr. Garrison resigned.
Immediately all the enemies of the President centred about the retiring
Secretary and proclaimed him a very much abused official. The letter which
the President addressed to Secretary Garrison is as follows:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
      WASHINGTON

    January 17, 1916.

    MY DEAR MR. SECRETARY:

    I am very much obliged to you for your letters of January twelfth and
    January fourteenth. They make your views with regard to adequate
    measures of preparation for national defence sharply clear. I am sure
    that I already understood just what your views were, but I am glad to
    have them restated in this succinct and striking way. You believe, as
    I do, that the chief thing necessary is, that we should have a trained
    citizen reserve and that the training, organization and control of
    that reserve should be under immediate federal direction.

    But apparently I have not succeeded in making my own position equally
    clear to you, though I feel sure that I have made it perfectly clear
    to Mr. Hay. It is that I am not irrevocably or dogmatically committed
    to any one plan of providing the nation with such a reserve and am
    cordially willing to discuss alternative proposals.

    Any other position on my part would indicate an attitude towards the
    Committee on Military Affairs of the House of Representatives which I
    should in no circumstances feel at liberty to assume. It would never
    be proper or possible for me to say to any committee of the House of
    Representatives that so far as my participation in legislation was
    concerned they would have to take my plan or none.

    I do not share your opinion that the members of the House who are
    charged with the duty of dealing with military affairs are ignorant of
    them or of the military necessities of the nation. On the contrary, I
    have found them well informed and actuated with a most intelligent
    appreciation of the grave responsibilities imposed upon them. I am
    sure that Mr. Hay and his colleagues are ready to act with a full
    sense of all that is involved in this great matter both for the
    country and for the national parties which they represent.

    My own duty toward them is perfectly plain. I must welcome a frank
    interchange of views and a patient and thorough comparison of all the
    methods proposed for obtaining the objects we all have in view. So far
    as my own participation in final legislative action is concerned, no
    one will expect me to acquiesce in any proposal that I regard as
    inadequate or illusory. If, as the outcome of a free interchange of
    views, my own judgment and that of the Committee should prove to be
    irreconcilably different and a bill should be presented to me which I
    could not accept as accomplishing the essential things sought, it
    would manifestly be my duty to veto it and go to the country on the
    merits. But there is no reason to anticipate or fear such a result,
    unless we should ourselves take at the outset the position that only
    the plans of the Department are to be considered; and that position,
    it seems to me, would be wholly unjustifiable. The Committee and the
    Congress will expect me to be as frank with them as I hope they will
    be with me, and will of course hold me justified in fighting for my
    own matured opinion.

    I have had a delightfully frank conference with Mr. Hay. I have said
    to him that I was perfectly willing to consider any plan that would
    give us a national reserve under unmistakable national control, and
    would support any scheme if convinced of its adequacy and wise policy.
    More he has not asked or desired.

    Sincerely yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

    HON. LINDLEY M. GARRISON,
      Secretary of War.

It was clear from the President's letter and the attitude of Secretary
Garrison that there was to be no meeting of minds between the President
and his Secretary of War on the matter of preparedness. Their views could
not be reconciled, and when the President refused to support Garrison's
programme, hook, line, and sinker, the Secretary tendered his resignation,
which the President under the circumstances readily accepted. Immediately
the friends of Garrison declared that the Administration had lost its
strongest man and that it was now on the way to destruction. Neither the
President nor his many friends, however, were disturbed by these direful
predictions of disaster; and as the people pondered the President's letter
of acceptance of Mr. Garrison's resignation, wherein he showed his own
mind was open to the best method of preparing the country and that Mr.
Garrison showed petulance and impatience in handling the matter--the
sober, second thought of the country readily and quickly came to the
President's support in the belief that the dogmatic attitude of the
Secretary of War, instead of helping, was embarrassing national
preparedness.

Garrison had rendered distinguished service to the Administration and had
won many friends, especially the newspaper group of Washington, by his
open, frank method of dealing with public questions; but unfortunately for
him he was swept off his feet by the unstinted praise that came to him
from Republican journals throughout the country whenever it appeared that
he was taking an attitude--especially in the two questions of major
importance, preparedness and Mexico--that seemed to be at variance with
the Administration's point of view.

When the President's letter to Garrison was read and the contents fully
understood it showed Garrison autocratic and unyielding, and the President
open-minded and willing to adopt any plan for preparedness that seemed to
be workable. The gentle rebuke of Mr. Garrison contained in the
President's statement that he did not share Mr. Garrison's opinion that
the members of the House charged with the duty of dealing with military
affairs "are ignorant of them or of the military necessities of the
nation," completely won to the President the support of the members of
that committee and put the President in the position of asking for and
obtaining their hearty cooperation and support. Garrison's resignation,
which at first blush appeared to be disastrous to the Administration, was
soon turned to its advantage, with the result that a national defence act
was passed during the summer. It was a compromise measure but it added
very greatly to the military power of the country. In addition, it gave
great powers to the President over the railroads in the event of war and
authorized the establishment of a council of national defence.

Of course, the enemies of the President interpreted the episode as another
example of his inability to cooperate with "strong men" and continued in
the next breath to repeat their accusations that he was autocratic in his
dealings with Congress, ignoring their own inconsistency. It was precisely
because the President respected the constitutional prerogatives of the
Congress, and Mr. Garrison did not, that the break came.

Every method of propaganda was resorted to to force the hand of the
President in the matter of preparedness and to induce him to advocate and
support a programme for universal military service put forth by the
National Security League, whose backers and supporters throughout the
country were mainly Republicans. Publicity on a grand scale, public
meetings and great parades throughout the country were part of this
propaganda. While many sincere, patriotic men and women, without realizing
the politics that lay behind it, aided in this movement, it was easy to
see that back of it was a sinister political purpose to embarrass and, if
possible, to force the hand of the President. One of the leaders of this
movement was General Wood, who established, with the permission of the War
Department, the famous Plattsburg Camp. It will be recalled that this was
the stage from which Mr. Roosevelt, on an occasion, freely gave expression
to his views of bitter antagonism to the President for his seemingly
slothful attitude in urging his views on Congress with reference to the
preparedness programme. One of the favourite methods of rousing the
people, to which the National Security League resorted, was demonstrations
throughout the country in the form of preparedness parades. It was clear
to us at the White House that these parades were part of an organized
movement to "agitate" in favour of a radical programme of preparedness.
The President and I had often discussed these demonstrations. One day I
asked him if they were embarrassing him in any way and he said that they
were not, but that they might affect opinion throughout the country in
such a way as unreasonably to influence Congress for legislation so
radical in its character as to be unnecessary and burdensome to the
taxpayers of the country.

Our Republican opponents on the outside were claiming great political
results from these demonstrations and felt sure they were a mighty force
in embarrassing and weakening the President. It was finally suggested to
the President that he ought to embrace the first opportunity presented to
him of leading in one of the parades himself. Shortly after, the District
of Columbia parade took place, and the President, upon my initiative, was
invited to lead it. The effect of the President's personal participation
in this parade and in the New York parade held subsequently was quickly
evident. As soon as the moving pictures throughout the country began to
feature the President leading the demonstrations, these parades became
less frequent and finally obsolete. By getting into the "front line" the
President had cleverly outwitted his enemies and took command of the
forces in the country demanding preparedness.




CHAPTER XXIX

THE GREAT DECLARATION


In October, 1916, during the Presidential campaign, while the President
was at Shadow Lawn, New Jersey, Ambassador Gerard, at the President's
invitation, paid a visit to him and reported in detail the general
situation in Germany as to the submarine warfare. He said that the
restrictions as to submarines imposed by Germany's acceptance of the
President's ultimatum after the Sussex affair, were growing burdensome and
intolerable to the military and naval masters of Germany and that they
were bringing all kinds of pressure to bear upon the leaders of the Civil
Government, notably Von Bethmann-Hollweg and Foreign Minister Von Jagow,
to repudiate the undertaking. From the critical situation in Germany,
arising out of the controversy over the question of unrestricted submarine
warfare, which Ambassador Gerard laid before him, the President was
convinced that we were now approaching a real crisis in our relations with
Germany and that unless peace could be quickly obtained, the European
struggle would soon enter upon a phase more terrible than any in the
preceding two years, with consequences highly dangerous to the interests
of our country. The passionate wish and deep desire of the President from
the beginning was that we could keep aloof and by conserving our energies
and remaining neutral, hold ourselves in reserve as the only mediating
influence for peace; but with each passing week some untoward event
brought about by the ruthlessness of Germany made the prospect for the
interposition of America's influence daily more unlikely.

The following memorandum prepared by me on January 4, 1916, of a
conversation between the President and myself, shortly after the sinking
of the _Persia_ by a submarine, imperfectly sets forth his idea with
reference to war with Germany:

    About ten minutes to ten o'clock this morning I had a very interesting
    conversation with the President at the White House, my purpose being
    to bring to him the atmosphere of Washington and the country as far as
    I could ascertain with reference to the sinking of the _Persia_ by a
    submarine. The other purpose of my visit was to warn him that Senator
    Stone might induce him to make some admission with reference to his
    attitude which might embarrass the President in the future.

    The President looked very well after his trip and seemed to be in a
    fine mood, although it was plainly evident that the _Persia_ affair
    rested heavily upon him. My attitude toward this matter was for
    action, and action all along the line. This did not seem to meet with
    a very hearty response from the President. He informed me that it
    would not be the thing for us to take action against any government
    without our government being in possession of all the facts. I replied
    that that was my attitude, but I thought there should be action and
    vigorous action as soon as all the facts were ascertained. He agreed
    with me in this. When I began to tell him about the attitude of the
    country and the feeling in the country that there was a lack of
    leadership, he stiffened up in his chair and said: "Tumulty, you may
    as well understand my position right now. If my rejection as President
    depends upon my getting into war, I don't want to be President. I have
    been away, and I have had lots of time to think about this war and the
    effect of our country getting into it, and I have made up my mind that
    I am more interested in the opinion that the country will have of me
    ten years from now than the opinion it may be willing to express to-
    day. Of course, I understand that the country wants action, and I
    intend to stand by the record I have made in all these cases, and take
    whatever action may be necessary, but I will not be rushed into war,
    no matter if every last Congressman and Senator stands up on his hind
    legs and proclaims me a coward." He continued, speaking of the
    severance of diplomatic relations,--"You must know that when I
    consider this matter, I can only consider it as the forerunner of war.
    I believe that the sober-minded people of this country will applaud
    any efforts I may make without the loss of our honour to keep this
    country out of war." He said that if we took any precipitate action
    right now, it might prevent Austria from coming across in generous
    fashion.

The President, ten months later, was re-elected, on the slogan, "_He kept
us out of War_." If it was possible to continue at peace on terms that
would protect and conserve our national honour, he was determined to do
so. I recall how passionately he laid before Senator Tillman of South
Carolina, chairman of the Committee on Naval Affairs, his desire to keep
the nation out of war. At the conclusion of the talk with the Senator, he
said: "But, Senator, it rests with Germany to say whether we shall remain
at peace." Turning to the President, Senator Tillman said: "You are right,
Mr. President, we must not go around with a chip on our shoulder. I am for
peace, but I am not for peace at any damn price." This was really
expressive of the President's attitude. He earnestly desired peace, but he
was not willing to remain at peace at the price of the nation's honour.

Early in May, 1916, the President and I had conferred regarding the
European situation and had discussed the possibility of our suggesting to
both sides that they consider the United States as a mediating influence
to bring about a settlement. Early in May, 1916, I had addressed the
following letter to the President with reference to the matter:

    THE WHITE HOUSE,
       WASHINGTON

    May 16, 1916.

    MY DEAR GOVERNOR:

    As I have discussed with you on frequent occasions, it seems to me
    that the time is now at hand for you to act in the matter of _Peace_.
    The mere process of peace negotiations may extend over a period of
    months. Why should we wait until the moment of exhaustion before ever
    beginning a discussion? Everybody admits that the resources of the
    nations involved cannot last through another year without suffering of
    an untold character. It is now May. Let us assume that everybody
    accepts your offer. It would be physically impossible to get
    commissioners from various parts of the world, including Japan, in
    less than two months. Then the discussion would perhaps last until the
    fall, no matter what conclusion might be reached. Therefore, allowing
    for the time that might be consumed in persuading all the parties that
    the time is now ripe, the whole business will require almost a year in
    itself, during which time the hostilities would be continuing and
    certainly the chance of getting a truce would be better after the
    discussion had been in progress for some time. Similarly, as the time
    for the winter campaign approached, the inducement to agree on a truce
    on any terms would become more powerful each day.

    Let us look at it from the point of view of postponement. If we waited
    until the fall and the negotiations stretched out through the winter,
    the temptation for making new drives in the spring, with the
    preparations made throughout the winter, would incline the
    militaristic element in the various countries involved to block peace
    negotiations. _It seems, therefore, that the time to act is now when
    these drives are spending their force._

    As to the Procedure:

    It seems that no belligerent should be put in the position by your
    note of weakening or of suing for peace, for we must keep in mind the
    pride and sensibilities of all. The initiative must be ours--to all
    nations, on equal terms. One way to do this would be to send a note,
    saying that from the German note and from statesmen representing the
    Entente powers the Government of the United States assumes that the
    belligerent powers are willing at least to discus suggestions for
    peace, each only reserving to itself liberty of action. The United
    States can, therefore, announce that it is willing to meet at The
    Hague a commission sent by the respective governments to discuss means
    for making peace, _and for establishing a world court or international
    tribunal to safeguard the peace of the world after the close of the
    war_.

    In the latter, namely, _world peace_, the United States has a direct
    interest. The United States can in the note assume that commissioners
    will meet with it and hopes to be advised if there is any feeling to
    the contrary.

    My idea is to go ahead with the plan on the theory that all the
    belligerents are in accord with the idea, so that in answering our
    note they will not have accepted anything but our proposals to
    discuss, first, the suggestion of peace, and, secondly, the idea of a
    world court.

    The President should say, in order to elicit the sympathy of the world
    and mankind in general, that the note of the United States suggesting
    a meeting between the powers will be made public within a few days and
    after its receipt by the respective powers. This will give each
    government not only its own public opinion to reckon with, but the
    public opinion of the civilized world. The nation that objects to a
    discussion of peace will by no means be in an enviable position.

    I hope you will read the article I am sending you by Mr. Strunsky,
    "Post Impressions," especially that part I have indicated in the
    margin. It is from this article that I got the idea of suggesting the
    alternative proposition of a world court. Your note setting forth your
    position in this matter should be an appeal to the heart and to the
    conscience of the world.

    TUMULTY.

Evidently the President seriously had been considering this very matter as
was shown by the following reply to my note:

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    DEAR TUMULTY:

    Thank you for the memorandum about peace suggestions. I have read it
    very carefully and find my own thoughts travelling very much the same
    route. You may be sure I am doing a great deal of serious thinking
    about it all.

    Faithfully,
      W. W.

The President, through the State Department and various instrumentalities
to which he had access for information, was keeping in touch with the
German situation and understood from the beginning what the German game
was with reference to peace, and to the various offers which he was
making. He knew that the German peace offers were merely an attempt on the
part of the civil government of Germany to avert a resumption of
ruthlessness at sea; that they were mere gestures on the part of the
German Government made to bolster up the morale of the German people and
that these German offers did not indicate the real desire for peace on
equitable terms, as subsequent events showed, but that they were the terms
of peace of a nation which thought itself the victor, and, therefore, in a
position ruthlessly to dictate a final settlement.

Many of the advisers of the President suggested that he should ignore
these offers. But the President was wiser than those around him in
accepting the German bid at its face value, and he finally called upon
Germany to state the practical terms upon which she was willing to
consider a settlement for peace. There was another reason for the
President's patience. Foreseeing an inevitable crisis with Germany over
the frequent sinking of our ships, he was fully conscious that he could
not draw the whole country with him in aggressive action if before he took
the step leading to war he had not tried out every means of peace. While
his enemies denounced his meekness and apparent subservience to German
diplomacy, and while some went so far as to characterize his conduct as
cowardly, he serenely moved on and forced Germany to a show-down. He not
only asked Germany to state her terms, but he frankly asked the Allies to
give to the world their statement of what they considered the basis of
peace.

One of the phrases in his note to the Allies which caused great irritation
was that "neither side had stated the object for which the war had been
started." While he was criticized for this at the time, it did just what
he intended it to do. It forced Germany openly to avow what she believed
to be the basis of peace, and gave the Allies their chance, as if they
were being forced to do it by the American President, to say what they
thought would be a just settlement.

In the latter part of January Germany announced to the United States that
she was going to begin, on February first, unrestricted submarine warfare
in the zone around the British Isles, and undertook to specify the route
which a restricted number of American ships might take through this zone.

I vividly recall the day the Associated Press bulletin reached the White
House. I took it immediately to the President who was at his desk in his
private office. As I entered, he looked up from his writing, casual
inquiry in his eyes. Without comment I laid the fateful slip of paper on
his desk, and silently watched him as he read and then re-read it. I
seemed to read his mind in the expressions that raced across his strong
features: first, blank amazement; then incredulity that even Germany could
be guilty of such perfidy; then gravity and sternness, a sudden grayness
of colour, a compression of the lips and the familiar locking of the jaw
which always characterized him in moments of supreme resolution. Handing
the paper back to me, he said in quiet tones: "This means war. The break
that we have tried so hard to prevent now seems inevitable."

On February 4th, he addressed Congress, announcing the severance of
diplomatic relations with Germany, and stating his hope that Germany would
pause before it was too late. On February 26th, the steamship. _Aneona_,
with Americans on board, was sunk, and on the next day the President
addressed Congress, suggesting the proclamation of armed neutrality as a
final effort to apply pressure to the Government of Germany, to show that
the United States was in earnest and would protect its rights against
lawless attacks at sea; but these measures failed. Germany seemed bent
upon a break with us, and on April 6, 1917, in response to a memorable
address delivered by the President on April second, the Congress of the
United States declared solemnly that a state of war existed between the
United States and the Imperial German Government.

In concluding his war message, the President said:

    It is a fearful thing to lead this great, peaceful people into war,
    into the most terrible and disastrous of all wars, civilization itself
    seeming to be in the balance. But the right is more precious than
    peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have always carried
    nearest our hearts, for democracy, for the right of those who submit
    to authority to have a voice in their own governments, for the rights
    and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by
    such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all
    nations and make the world itself at last free. To such a task we can
    dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and
    everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day
    has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might
    for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace
    which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no other.

I accompanied the President to Capitol Hill on the day of the delivery of
his war message, and on that fateful day I rode with him from the Capitol
back to the White House, the echo of applause still ringing in my ears.

For a while he sat silent and pale in the Cabinet Room. At last he said:
"Think what it was they were applauding" [he was speaking of the people
who were lined along the streets on his way to the Capitol]. "My message
to-day was a message of death for our young men. How strange it seems to
applaud that."

That simple remark is one key to an understanding of Woodrow Wilson. All
politicians pretend to hate and to dread war, but Woodrow Wilson really
hates and dreads it in all the fibres of his human soul; hates it and
dreads it because he has an imagination and a heart; an imagination which
shows his sensitive perception the anguish and the dying which war
entails; a heart which yearns and aches over every dying soldier and
bleeds afresh with each new-made wound.

I shall never forget that scene in the Cabinet Room between the President
and myself. He appeared like a man who had thrown off old burdens only to
add new ones.

It was apparent in his talk with me that he felt deeply wounded at the
criticism that for months had been heaped upon him for his seeming
unwillingness to go to war with Germany. As he discussed the step he had
just taken, it was evident to me that he keenly felt the full solemnity
and tragedy of it all. Turning to me, he said: "Tumulty, from the very
beginning I saw the end of this horrible thing; but I could not move
faster than the great mass of our people would permit. Very few understood
the difficult and trying position I have been placed in during the years
through which we have just passed. In the policy of patience and
forbearance I pursued I tried to make every part of America and the varied
elements of our population understand that we were willing to go any
length rather than resort to war with Germany. As I told you months ago,
it would have been foolish for us to have been rushed off our feet and to
have gone to war over an isolated affair like the _Lusitania_. But now we
are certain that there will be no regrets or looking back on the part of
our people. There is but one course now left open to us. Our consciences
are clear, and we must prepare for the inevitable--a fight to the end.
Germany must be made to understand that we have rights that she must
respect. There were few who understood this policy of patience. I do not
mean to say this in a spirit of criticism. Indeed, many of the leading
journals of the country were unmindful of the complexities of the
situation which confronted us."

The President then took out of his pocket an old and worn newspaper
clipping, saying: "I wish to read you an analysis of my position and my
policy by a special writer for the _Manchester Guardian_, who seemed,
without consulting me or ever conferring with me, to know just what I am
driving at."

This special writer, commenting upon the Wilson policy, had said:

    Mr. Wilson's patience, now derided and criticized, will inevitably be
    the means by which he will lead his people by easy stages to the side
    of the Allies. By his methods of patience and apparent subservience to
    Germany, he will convince the whole American people that no other
    course save war is possible. This policy of Wilson's, now determined
    on, will work a complete transformation in his people. It will not
    evidence itself quickly or overnight. The moral preachment of Wilson
    before and after war will be the cause that will finally bring his
    people to the side of the Allies.

Again turning to me, the President said: "Our course from this time on is
clear. The whole business of war that we are now engaged upon is fraught
with the gravest difficulties. There will be great enthusiasm in the
country from this day. I trust it will not slacken or weaken as the
horrors of the war and its tragedies are disclosed. Of course our motives
will be misconstrued, our purposes misunderstood; some of our best friends
will misinterpret what we seek to do. In carrying on the war we will be
obliged to do certain unusual things, things that will interfere with the
lives and habits of our people, which will bring down upon us a storm of
criticism and ridicule. Our life, therefore, until this thing is over, and
God only knows when it will be over, will be full of tragedy and
heartaches."

As he spoke, he was no longer Woodrow Wilson, the protagonist of peace,
but Woodrow Wilson, the stern warrior, now grimly determined to pursue the
great cause of America to the end.

The President continued talking to me. He said: "It has not been easy to
carry these burdens in these trying times. From the beginning I saw the
utter futility of neutrality, the disappointment and heartaches that would
flow from its announcement, but we had to stand by our traditional policy
of steering clear of European embroilments. While I have appeared to be
indifferent to the criticism which has been my portion during these
critical days, a few have tried to understand my purpose and have
sympathized throughout with what I sought to do."

Then, as he lowered his voice, he said: "There is a fine chap in
Springfield, Massachusetts, editor of a great paper there, who understood
my position from the beginning and who has sympathized with me throughout
this whole business." For a moment he, paused, and then went on: "I want
to read you the letter I received from this fine man." As he read, the
emotion he felt at the tender sympathy which the words conveyed gripped
him. The letter is as follows:

    Springfield, Massachusetts,
    March 28, 1917.

    MY DEAR MR. PRESIDENT:

    In acknowledging your very kind and appreciative note of March 22nd, I
    must say at once that the note has given me the greatest possible
    pleasure. I prize this word from you all the more because after the
    political experience and conflicts of the past few years, I am
    conscious of a very real yet peculiar feeling of having summered and
    wintered with you, in spite of the immeasurable and rather awful
    distance that separates our respective places in the life and work of
    our time. Your note, for the moment, suddenly annihilates the distance
    and brings to me what I recognize as a very human touch.

    There is summering and wintering to come,--with more wintering perhaps
    than we shall enjoy;--even so, I shall hope to be of timely service,
    as opportunity favours me.

    I have the honour to be your admirer and friend.

    Most sincerely,
      (Signed) WALDO L. COOK.

"That man understood me and sympathized." As he said this, the President
drew his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away great tears that stood
in his eyes, and then laying his head on the Cabinet table, sobbed as if
he had been a child.




CHAPTER XXX

CARRYING ON


The critics of the President will ask the question: "What was the
President doing to prepare the country for war, which to him seemed
inevitable?" From the inside, and without the blare of trumpets, he was
quietly engaged in conferring with the heads of the Army and Navy
departments. Indeed, from the minute the third _Lusitania_ note was
dispatched, actual preparations for war were begun. Immediately upon the
dispatch of the note, the following statement was issued from the White
House, under date of July 21, 1916.

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    July 21, 1916.

    The President in association with the heads of departments, regardless
    of present-day conditions or controversies, has long been giving a
    great deal of consideration to the preparation of a reasonable and
    adequate naval programme, which he intends to propose to Congress at
    the proper time.

    That is one of the things he is now considering in the quiet of
    Cornish. He feels, now that the note has been dispatched, that it is
    best, for the time being, to drop the discussion of it as far as he is
    concerned and is turning to questions of permanent national policy.

    Of course, he realizes that he must have the best practical advice
    obtainable in this matter and is seeking for it from every available
    source. In fact, it is known that the best minds of the various
    departments of the Government, both of the Army and the Navy, are now
    and have been at work on these important matters for some time; that
    is, he is seeking advice from the men in those departments who have
    been most directly in touch with the new conditions of defence that
    have been evolved out of modern experience. He not only wishes advice
    from those who have a knowledge of actual modern conditions of
    warfare, but he is seeking light from those who are able to understand
    and comprehend the altered conditions of land and naval warfare. He
    wishes the Navy to stand upon an equality with the most efficient and
    serviceable.

    As to the Army, it is known here that he is preparing to incorporate
    in his next message to Congress a programme in regard to the
    development and equipment of the Army and a proper training of the
    citizens of the United States to arms which, while in every way
    consistent with American traditions and national policy, will be of
    such a character as to commend itself to every patriotic and practical
    mind. In this matter he is working with the Secretary of War and his
    professional associates, who, it is understood, have reached some very
    definite conclusions on these exceedingly important matters. He is
    anxious to have a programme that will be definite and positive, and
    wishes to have the information in hand before laying the matter before
    the committees of the Senate and the House.

 Contemporaneously with this statement was issued the following, which was
prepared by the President, but issued over my name, the full significance
of which was not apparent at the time:

    The note [Third _Lusitania_ note] having been dispatched, the
    President felt that it was best to drop further discussion of the
    matter for the present, as far as he was concerned. He will be free
    now to devote his time to a full consideration of a matter that the
    country has for a long time been thoughtful of, that is a reasonable
    programme of national defense. Of course, this programme will be
    considered regardless of present-day conditions.

    It is known that the President has been considering this important
    matter in all its aspects, and has been in touch with the Secretary of
    War and the Secretary of the Navy regarding it. It is also known in
    official circles here that the President had taken steps before
    leaving for Cornish to instruct the Army and Navy departments to make
    ready for his consideration a careful programme of national defense in
    preparation for the presentation of his views to Congress at the
    proper time.

    He desires to have the programme based on the most practicable lines
    obtainable from the departments and it is said that the best minds in
    the departments are at present at work on the subject. He hopes that
    the programme will express the best traditions of the country and not
    lose sight of modern experience. He is anxious to have a programme
    that will be definite and positive, and wishes to have the information
    in hand before laying the matter before the committees of the Senate
    and the House.

On July 21, 1915, he addressed the following letters to the Secretary of
War and the Secretary of the Navy, respectively:

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    July 21, 1915.

    MY DEAR MR. SECRETARY:

    I have been giving scarcely less thought than you yourself have to the
    question of adequate preparation for national defense, and I am
    anxious, as you know, to incorporate in my next message to Congress a
    programme regarding the development and equipment of the Army and a
    proper training of our citizens to arms which, while in every way
    consistent with our traditions and our national policy, will be of
    such a character as to commend itself to every patriotic and practical
    mind.

    I know that you have been much in conference with your professional
    associates in the department and that you have yourself come to some
    very definite conclusions on these exceedingly important matters. I
    shall be away from Washington for a few days, but I would be very much
    obliged if you would be kind enough to prepare for me a programme,
    with estimates, of what you and the best-informed soldiers in your
    counsels think the country ought to undertake to do. I should like to
    discuss this programme with you at as early a time as it can be made
    ready. Whether we can reasonably propose the whole of it to the
    Congress immediately or not we can determine when we have studied it.
    The important thing now is to know and know fully what we need.
    Congress will certainly welcome such advice and follow it to the limit
    of its opportunity.

    Cordially and faithfully yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

           *       *       *       *       *

    HON. LINDLEY M. GARRISON,
      Secretary Of War.

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    July 21, 1915.

    MY DEAR MR. SECRETARY:

    I have been giving, as I am sure you have also, a great deal of
    thought to the matter of a wise and adequate naval programme to be
    proposed to the Congress at its next session, and I would like to
    discuss the whole subject with you at the earliest possible date.

    But first we must have professional advice. I would be very much
    obliged to you if you would get the best minds in the department to
    work on the subject: I mean the men who have been most directly in
    contact with actual modern conditions, who have most thoroughly
    comprehended what the Navy must be in the future in order to stand
    upon an equality with the most efficient and most practically
    serviceable. I want their advice, a programme by them formulated in
    the most definite way. Whether we can reasonably propose the whole of
    it to the Congress immediately or not we can determine when we have
    studied it. The important thing now is to know fully what we need.
    Congress will certainly welcome such advice and follow it to the limit
    of its opportunity.

    It should be a programme planned for a consistent and progressive
    development of this great defensive arm of the nation and should be of
    such a kind as to commend itself to every patriotic and practical man.

    I shall return to Washington in a few days and shall be glad to take
    this important matter up with you at your early convenience.

    Cordially and faithfully yours,
      WOODROW WILSON.

    HON. JOSEPHUS DANIELS,
      Secretary of the Navy.

Immediately after the war message there arose an insistent demand for a
coalition cabinet. It was the beginning of the Republican drive for what
was called a bi-partisan government. Republicans chose to forget the
experiences of England and France under their coalition cabinets, and when
the President refused to act upon the suggestion, the impression was
subtly conveyed to the unthinking that the President's refusal arose from
his dislike of counsel and coöperation, and his unwillingness to share the
responsibilities and glories of the war with people outside his own party.

As an historian, the President knew the troubles of Washington with a
coalition cabinet, Lincoln's embarrassments from Cabinet members not of
his own party, McKinley's sagacious refusal in 1898 to form a coalition
cabinet. He also knew human nature; knew that with the best intentions,
men sometimes find it difficult to work whole-heartedly with a leader of a
political party not their own. He could not risk a chance of division, in
his own official family in the face of the common enemy.

The President looked upon the agitation for a coalition cabinet as a
partisan effort to hamper and embarrass his administration, and so he
coldly turned away from every suggestion that looked toward the
establishment of a cabinet of the kind suggested by his too-solicitous
Republican friends.

The following note which I addressed to the President and his reply, bear
upon the subject:

    THE WHITE HOUSE
      WASHINGTON

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    The newspaper men asked me this morning what the attitude of the
    Administration was toward the proposed super-cabinet. I hedged as much
    as I could, but I asked if it was not the same proposition that came
    up some months ago, advocated by Senator Weeks, in a new disguise--if
    it was not the same kind of a commission that had harassed Mr.
    Lincoln. I think we ought to let our attitude be known unofficially
    for the guidance of men who wish to help us. If we do nothing at this
    time to let it be known, it would seem that our opposition to this
    kind of legislation had been silenced by the furore over the fuel
    order. In other words, we ought to show by our attitude that the
    tantrums on the Hill are making no impression on us whatever.

    TUMULTY.

           *       *       *       *       *

    DEAR TUMULTY:

    Of course, I am opposed to the idea of a "super-cabinet," and regard
    it as nothing more nor less than a renewal of the perpetual effort of
    the Republicans to force representation in the Administration.
    Republicans of the finest sort and of the finest capacity are working
    for and with the Administration on all hands and there is no need
    whatever for a change at the head of the administering departments. I
    am utterly opposed to anything of the sort and will never consent to
    it. You will know how to create the impression on the minds of the
    newspaper men that I regard it as merely a partisan effort to hamper
    and embarrass the Administration.

    THE PRESIDENT.

There were many misgivings in the minds of the people when war was
declared in April, 1917, and the nation embarked upon the most gigantic of
all its wars, under the leadership of a college professor, a doctrinaire,
who did not believe in war as a method of permanently solving
international problems, and a Secretary of War who was an avowed pacifist.
There was another matter which greatly disturbed the peace of mind of the
average American. The political party that was conducting the struggle was
the Democratic party, the party of the plain folk, of the average men and
women of America. Our Republican friends had so cleverly "advertised"
their conduct of the Civil War and the Spanish-American War, that many
people in the country felt that the Republican party, because of its
leading minds and the business genius of its masters, was the only
political organization that could be depended upon successfully to carry
on a great war.

Colonel Roosevelt's diary, first made public on September 28, 1921, throws
interesting light on Republican claims of efficient management by
Republicans of the Spanish-American War. Under date of May 7, 1898, the
Colonel, then a lieutenant-colonel, recorded in his diary: "The delays and
stupidity of the Ordnance Department surpass belief. The Quartermaster's
Department is better, but bad. The Commissary Department is good. There is
no management whatever in the War Department. Against a good nation we
should be helpless," and these animadversions are reiterated in subsequent
entries. Interesting comments from the greatest of contemporary
Republicans on the divine right of the Republican party to conduct all
American wars and transact all other American business of importance. But
doubtless the Colonel had forgotten all this in 1917, and many other good
Americans had also forgotten what was notorious in 1898 and the ineptitude
of the Republican War Department, which, as Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt
said under date of May 21, 1898, had "no head, no energy, no
intelligence." But the old myth sedulously cultivated by Republicans
continued in 1917, that only Republicans are fit to govern, no matter how
badly they govern. Direful prophecies and predictions of disaster to the
country by reason of the Democratic auspices under which the war was to be
conducted were freely made.

It is an unpleasant fact that some of the leading Republicans in the
Senate and the House harboured for the President a partisan and personal
hatred which made the wish father to the thought. Yet the expected did not
happen, to the amazement and chagrin of the Republican enemies of the
President. No other war was attended with so little scandal and with
greater expedition. The cause was plain. It was the magnificent and
aggressive leadership of Woodrow Wilson exerting itself all along the
line, and that leadership was based upon certain fundamental resolutions
which had been taking form in the President's mind for many months
previous to his appearance before Congress asking for the passage of a war
declaration. They were as follows: (1) There was to be no "politics" in
the conduct of the war; (2) no political generals would be selected; (3)
every ounce of energy and force in the nation was to be put back of the
heads of the Army and the Navy in a supreme effort to make our influence,
moral and physical, quickly felt. Every effort was made to cut out scandal
and to put an absolute embargo on the activities of army speculators,
contractors, and profiteers.

Speaking to me one day about the conduct of the war, shortly after the
delivery of his war message, he said: "We must not in our conduct of this
war repeat the scandals of the Civil and the Spanish-American wars. The
politics of generals and admirals must be tabooed. We must find the best
trained minds that we can get and we must back them up at every turn. Our
policy must be 'the best man for every job,' regardless of his political
affiliations. This must be the only test, for, after all, we are the
trustees of the boys whose lives will be spent in this enterprise of war."

This was not an easy policy to pursue. Every kind of harassing demand came
from Democratic senators and representatives to induce the President to
recognize political considerations in the conduct of the war, the argument
being that after all the responsibility for its conduct resting with the
Democrats, the administration of the war ought to be under Democratic
tutelage throughout. But the President was firm--in his resolve to see the
war through to the end without political considerations. The political
predilections of generals, admirals, and war workers of every kind was
ignored.

Mr. Creel by furnishing a list of Republicans appointed by the President
to conspicuous office has disproved the charge against the President of
niggard partisanship. Although the President would not tolerate a
coalition cabinet, he gave to Republicans all manner of opportunities to
share in the conduct and the credit of the war. I quote from Mr. Creel:

    The search for "the best man for the place" was instituted without
    regard to party, faction, blood strain, or creed, and the result was a
    composite organization in which Democrats, Republicans, and
    Independents worked side by side, partisanship forgotten and service
    the one consideration.

    It stood recognized as a matter of course that the soldier selected to
    command our forces in France might well develop into a presidential
    possibility, yet this high place was given without question to Gen.
    John J. Pershing, a life-long Republican and the son-in-law of Senator
    Warren, one of the masters of the Republican machine.

    Admiral William S. Sims, a vociferous Republican, was sent to English
    waters in high command, and while Secretary Daniels was warned at the
    time that Sims's partisanship was of the kind that would not recognize
    the obligations of loyalty or patriotism, he waved the objection aside
    out of his belief that Sims was "the best man for the job".

    For the head of the Aircraft Board, with its task of launching
    America's great aviation programme, Mr. Howard E. Coffin, a
    Republican, was selected and at his right hand Mr. Coffin placed Col.
    Edward A. Deeds, also a Republican of vigour and regularity.

    It is to be remembered also that when failure and corruption were
    charged against the Aircraft Board, the man appointed by the President
    to conduct the highly important investigation was Charles E. Hughes.

    Three Assistant Secretaries of War were appointed by Mr. Baker--Mr.
    Benedict Crowell, a Cleveland contractor; Doctor F. E. Keppel, dean of
    Columbia University, and Emmet J. Scott, formerly Booker Washington's
    secretary--and all three were Republicans. Mr. E. R. Stettinius of the
    J. P. Morgan firm and a Republican was made special assistant to the
    Secretary of War and placed in charge of supplies, a duty that he had
    been discharging for the Allies. Maj. Gen. George W. Goethals, after
    his unfortunate experience in shipbuilding, was given a second chance
    and put in the War Department as an assistant Chief of staff. The
    Chief of Staff himself, Gen. Peyton C. March, was a Republican no less
    definite and regular than General Goethals. Mr. Samuel McRoberts,
    president of the National City Bank and one of the pillars of the
    Republican party, was brought to Washington as chief of the
    procurement section in the Ordnance Section, with the rank of
    brigadier-general, Maj. Gen. E. H. Crowder was appointed Provost-
    Marshal-General, although his Republicanism was well known, and no
    objection of any kind was made when General Crowder put Charles B.
    Warren, the Republican National Committeeman from Michigan, in charge
    of appeal cases, a position of rare power.

    The Emergency Fleet Corporation was virtually turned over to
    Republicans under Charles M. Schwab and Charles Piez. Mr. Vance
    McCormick, chairman of the Democratic National Committee, was made
    chairman of the War Trade Board, but of the eight members the
    following five were Republicans: Albert Strauss of New York, Alonzo E.
    Taylor of Pennsylvania, John Beaver White, of New York, Frank C.
    Munson of New York, and Clarence M. Woolley of Chicago.

    The same conditions obtained in the Red Cross. A very eminent
    Republican, Mr. H. P. Davison, was put in supreme authority, and on
    the Red Cross War Council were placed ex-President Taft; Mr. Charles
    D. Norton, Mr. Taft's secretary while President; and Mr. Cornelius N.
    Bliss, former treasurer of the Republican National Committee. Not only
    was Mr. Taft thus honoured, but upon the creation of a National War
    Labour Board the ex-President was made its chairman and virtually
    empowered to act as the administration's representative in its contact
    with industry.

    Mr. Frank A. Vanderlip, a Republican of iron regularity, was placed in
    charge of the War Savings Stamps Campaign, and when Mr. McAdoo had
    occasion to name Assistant Secretaries of the Treasury he selected
    Prof. L. S. Rowe of the University of Pennsylvania and Mr. H. C.
    Leffingwell of New York.

    Harry A. Garfield, son of the Republican President, was made Fuel
    Administrator, and Mr. Herbert Hoover, now a candidate for President,
    on a platform, of unadulterated Republicanism, was nominated as head
    of the Food Administration.

    The Council of National Defense was an organization of high importance
    and one of tremendous influence from a partisan standpoint, yet its
    executive body was divided as follows: Republicans--Howard E. Coffin,
    Julius Rosenwald, Dr. Hollis Godfrey, Dr. Franklin Martin, Walter S.
    Gifford, Director; Democrats--Daniel Willard and Bernard M. Baruch;
    Independent--Samuel Gompers.

No sooner had the war begun than the preliminary war work of the President
began to bear fruit.

Within a month from the declaration of war the traditional policy of the
nation was reversed, by the enactment of the Selective Service Act. A vast
machinery of registration was created that ran without a hitch, and on
June 5th more than 10,000,000 men were registered quickly and efficiently.

Thirty-two encampments--virtual cities, since each had to house 40,000
men--were built in ninety days from the driving of the first nail,
complete in every municipal detail, a feat declared impossible, and which
will stand for all time as a building miracle.

In June, scarcely two months after the President's appearance before
Congress, General Pershing and his staff reached France, and on July 3rd
the last of four groups of transports landed American fighting men in the
home of La Fayette and Rochambeau. On October 10th our soldiers went on
the firing-line.

Training camps for officers started in June, and in August there were
graduated 27,341 successful aspirants, ready to assume the tasks of
leadership.

In a notable speech, confidential in character, the President on the 8th
day of April, 1918, addressed the foreign correspondents at the White
House concerning "our resolutions" and "actions in the war." The speech
was as follows:

    I am very glad to have this opportunity to meet you. Some of you I
    have met before, but not all. In what I am going to say I would prefer
    that you take it in this way, as for the private information of your
    minds and not for transmission to anybody, because I just want, if I
    may, in a few words to create a background for you which may be
    serviceable to you. I speak in confidence.

    I was rendered a little uneasy by what Mr. Lloyd George was quoted as
    having said the other day that the Americans have a great surprise in
    store for Germany. I don't know in what sense he meant that, but there
    is no surprise in store. I want you to know the sequence of resolves
    and of actions concerning our part in the war. Some time ago it was
    proposed to us that we, if I may use the expression feed our men into
    the French and English armies in any unit that might be ready--
    companies or regiments or brigades--and not wait to train and
    coordinate the larger units of our armies before putting them into
    action. My instinctive judgment in the face of that proposition was
    that the American people would feel a very much more ardent interest
    in the war if their men were fighting under their own flag and under
    their own general officers, but at that time, which was some months
    ago, I instructed General Pershing that he had full authority whenever
    any exigency that made such a thing necessary should occur to put the
    men in any units or in any numbers or in any way that was necessary--
    just as he is doing. What I wanted you to know was that that was not a
    new action, that General Pershing was fully instructed about that all
    along.

    Then, similarly with regard to the impression that we are now going to
    rush troops to Europe. Of course, you cannot rush any faster than
    there is means of rushing and, what I have said recently is what I
    have said all along, that we are getting men over there just as fast
    as we can get them ready and as quickly as we can find the ships to
    transport them. We are doing that now and we have been doing it all
    along. Let me point out some of the circumstances: Our first programme
    was to send over ninety thousand men a month, but for several months
    we were sending over only thirty thousand--one third of the programme.
    Why? Not because we didn't have the men ready, not even because we
    didn't have the means of transportation, but because--and there is no
    criticism of the French Government involved in this--because the ports
    assigned to us for landing couldn't take care of the supplies we had
    to send over. We had to send materials and engineers, and workmen,
    even, over to build the docks and the piers that would be adequate to
    handle the number of men we sent over, because this was happening: We
    began with the ninety-thousand programme and the result was that cargo
    ships that we needed were lying in those ports for several weeks
    together without being unloaded, as there was no means of unloading
    them. It was bad economy and bad practice from every point of view to
    have those ships lying there during a period when they could have made
    two or three voyages. There is still this difficulty which I am afraid
    there is no means of overcoming rapidly, that the railroad
    communication between those ports and the front is inadequate to
    handle very large bodies of men. You may notice that General Pershing
    recommended that Christmas boxes should not be sent to the men. That
    sounded like a pretty hard piece of advice, but if you could go to
    those ports and see those Christmas boxes which are still there, you
    would know why he didn't want them sent. There was no means of getting
    them to the front. Vast accumulations of these gifts were piled up
    there with no means of storing them adequately even.

    I just wanted to create for you this picture, that the channels have
    been inevitably choked. Now we believe that, inasmuch as the
    impediments on the other side are being largely removed, we can go
    ahead with the original programme and add to it in proportion as the
    British can spare us the tonnage, and they are going to spare us the
    tonnage for the purpose. And with the extra tonnage which the British
    are going to spare us we will send our men, not to France but to Great
    Britain, and from there they will go to the front through the channel
    ports. You see that makes a new line where the means of handling them
    are already established and where they are more abundant than they are
    at the French ports. Now, I want to say again that none of this
    involves the least criticism of the French authorities, because I
    think they have done their very best in every respect, but they
    couldn't make ports out of hand, they couldn't build new facilities
    suddenly, and their man power was being drawn on in very much larger
    proportion than our man power. Therefore, it was perfectly proper that
    we should send men over there and send materials to make the means of
    handling the troops and the cargoes more expeditiously.

    I want you gentlemen to realize that there was no wave-like motion in
    this thing so far as our purpose and preparation are concerned. We
    have met with delays, of course, in production, some of which might
    have been avoided and ought to have been avoided, and which are being
    slowly corrected, but apart from that the motive power has been back
    of this thing all the time. It has been the means of action that has
    oscillated, it has been sometimes greater and sometimes less than was
    necessary for the programme.

    I for my own part don't like the idea of having surprises. I would
    like the people to be surprised if we didn't do our duty, but not
    surprised that we did do it. Of course, I don't mean that Mr. Lloyd
    George meant that we would surprise everybody by doing our duty, but I
    don't just know how to interpret his idea of it, because I have said
    the same thing to the British representatives all along as I
    informally expressed it to Lord Reading, that we had been and always
    would be doing our damnedest, and there could not be a more definite
    American expression of purpose than that.

    As to another matter (I am just giving you things to think about and
    not things to say, if you will be kind enough to take it that way).
    That speech I made on Saturday I hope was correctly understood. We are
    fighting, as I understand it, for justice to everybody and are ready
    to stop just as soon as justice to everybody is everybody's programme.
    I have the same opinion privately about, I will not say the policy,
    but the methods of the German Government that some gentlemen have who
    see red all the time, but that is not a proper part of my thought. My
    thought is that if the German Government insist that the thing shall
    be settled unjustly, that is to say by force, then of course we accept
    that and will settle it by force. Whenever we see sincere symptoms of
    their desire to settle it by justice, we will not only accept their
    suggestions but we will be glad and eager to accept them, as I said in
    my speech. I would be ashamed to use the knock-down and drag-out
    language; that is not the language of liberty, that is the language of
    braggadocio. For my part, I have no desire to march triumphantly into
    Berlin. If they oblige us to march triumphantly into Berlin, then we
    will do it if it takes twenty years. But the world will come to its
    senses some day, no matter how mad some parts of it may be now, and
    this is my feeling, that we ought when the thing is over to be able to
    look back upon a course which had no element in it which we need be
    ashamed of. So it is so difficult in any kind of a speech, this kind
    or any other, to express two things that seem to be going in opposite
    directions that I wasn't sure that I had succeeded in expressing them
    on Saturday--the sincere willingness to discuss peace whenever the
    proposals are themselves sincere and yet at the same time the
    determination never to discuss it until the basis laid down for the
    discussion is justice. By that I mean justice to everybody. Nobody has
    the right to get anything out of this war, because we are fighting for
    peace if we mean what we say, for permanent peace. No injustice
    furnishes a basis for permanent peace. If you leave a rankling sense
    of injustice anywhere, it will not only produce a running sore
    presently which will result in trouble and probably war, but it ought
    to produce war somewhere. The sore ought to run. It is not susceptible
    to being healed except by remedying the injustice. Therefore, I for my
    part wouldn't want to see a peace which was based upon compelling any
    people, great or small, to live under conditions which it didn't
    willingly accept.

    If I were just a sheer Machiavelli and didn't have any heart but had
    brains, I would say: "If you mean what you say and are fighting for
    permanent peace, then there is only one way to get it, whether you
    like justice or not." It is the only conceivable intellectual basis
    for it, because this is not like the time, years ago, of the Congress
    of Vienna. Peoples were then not willing, but so speechless and
    unorganized and without the means of self-expression, that the
    governments could sit on their necks indefinitely. They didn't know
    how to prevent it. But they are wide awake now and nobody is going to
    sit comfortably on the neck of any people, big or little, and the more
    uncomfortable he is who tries it, the more I am personally pleased. So
    that I am in the position in my mind of trying to work out a purely
    scientific proposition: "What will stay put?"

    A peace is not going to be permanent until that principle is accepted
    by everybody, that, given a political unit, every people has the right
    to determine its own life. That, gentlemen, is all I have to say to
    you, but it is the real inside of my mind, and it is the real key to
    the present foreign policy of the United States which for the time
    being is in my keeping. I hope it will be useful to you, as it is
    welcome to me to have this occasion of telling you what I really think
    and what I understand we are really doing.




CHAPTER XXXI

THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD


During this time the President was constantly on guard at the Executive
offices, never for a moment out of touch with the situation. He was the
intimate associate of the men who were his co-labourers on the various
boards that had been set up to prosecute the work of the war. He seemed to
know what was going on in every phase. His evenings were given to
examination of the long dispatches that came from diplomatic and consular
representatives of America at the various capitals of Europe, apprising
him of the developments of the great war.

One of the most effective measures for weakening the enemy was the method
of attacking the Central Powers from within by propaganda designed to
incite the masses to rebellion and to drive wedges between Germany and
Austria. As George Creel says, "The projectile force of the President's
idealism, its full military value may be measured by the fact that between
April 6 and December 8, 1917, sixteen States, great and small, declared
war against Germany, or severed diplomatic relations with her. From the
very first the Allies accepted the President as their spokesman." It was
under the influence of Woodrow Wilson's clear vision and magic power of
statement that the true significance of the war became clear. At first it
had seemed a war of nations, and the belligerents had eagerly published
official documents, Red Books, White Books, Yellow Books, and so forth,
through all the colours of the spectrum, to show who had "started the
war." The question of who began it became after a while quite secondary to
the question of the fundamental principles at stake in the contest which
was no longer a national conflict, but a world war, waged to the death
between two irreconcilable views of the relationship of government to
individuals, the autocratic view on the one hand, on the other the
democratic. It was one man who brought the fundamental principle of the
division into the clear light. A contemporary writer has said that the
magical effect of Woodrow Wilson's utterances on all the Allies was due,
not to his rhetoric but to his sublime gift of seeing and stating a
profound truth after which others had been only groping. That is the
prophet's power, to voice the latent, inarticulate aspirations of the
multitude. Proof of the value of the President's method of attacking the
Central Powers from within by propaganda was disclosed in General
Ludendorff's and Von Tirpitz's revelations. In Ludendorff's opinion, the
President's note to Germany had forced the Central Empires to yield to the
President. Ludendorff says:

    In his answer to our second note, Wilson gave us nothing; he did not
    even tell us whether the Entente took its stand on the Fourteen
    Points. He demanded, however, the suspension of the submarine
    campaign, stigmatized our conduct of the war in the west as a
    violation of international law, and once again sought to meddle with
    intimate questions of our domestic politics.

Speaking again of the answer to one of the Wilson notes, Ludendorff says:

    The answer to Wilson was dispatched on the 20th of October. The
    submarine campaign was abandoned. This concession to Wilson was the
    deepest blow to the army, and especially to the navy. The injury to
    the morale of the fleet must have been immeasurable. The Cabinet had
    thrown up the sponge.

On October 23rd, President Wilson sent the following peremptory message to
the Germans:

    It is evident that the German people have no means of commanding the
    acquiescence of the military authorities of the Empire in the popular
    will; that the purpose of the King of Prussia to control the policy of
    the Empire is still unimpaired. If the United States must deal with
    the military masters and monarchical authorities now, or if it is
    likely to have to deal with them later in regard to international
    obligations of the German Empire, it must demand not peace
    negotiations but surrender. Nothing can be gained by leaving this
    essential thing unsaid.

In discussing this and the other Wilson notes, Ludendorff says that they
had dealt a vital blow at the heart of militaristic Germans and finally
loosed the grip they held on the German people. This entire situation is
best expressed in Ludendorff's own words:

    On October 23rd or 24th Wilson's answer arrived. It was a strong
    answer to our cowardly note. This time he had made it quite clear that
    the armistice conditions must be such as to make it impossible for
    Germany to resume hostilities, and to give the powers allied against
    her unlimited power to settle themselves the details of the peace
    accepted by Germany. In my view, there could no longer be doubt in any
    mind that we must continue the fight. I felt quite confident that the
    people were still to be won over to this course.

    On the evening of the 24th, shortly after leaving Spa for Berlin,
    there was brought to me the following proclamation already signed by
    the Field Marshal, which expressed the views prevailing at G. H. Q. on
    the third Wilson note. It appeared essential that G. H. Q. in its
    dealings with Berlin should take up a definite stand to the note in
    order to eliminate its ill effects on the army. The telegram to the
    Army ran thus:

        "For the information of all troops: Wilson says in his answer that
        he is ready to propose to his allies that they should enter into
        armistice negotiations; but that the armistice must render Germany
        so defenseless that she cannot take up arms again. He will only
        negotiate with Germany for peace if she concedes all the demands
        of America's associates as to the internal constitutional
        arrangements of Germany; otherwise, there is no choice but
        unconditional surrender.

        "_Wilson's answer is a demand for unconditional surrender._ It is
        thus unacceptable to us soldiers. It proves that our enemies'
        desire for our destruction, which let loose the war in 1914, still
        exists undiminished. It proves, further, that our enemies use the
        phrase 'peace of justice' merely to deceive us and break our
        resistance. Wilson's answer can thus be nothing for us soldiers
        but a challenge to continue our resistance with all our strength.

        "When our enemies know that no sacrifices will achieve the rupture
        of the German front, then they will be ready for a peace which
        will make the future of our country safe for the broad masses of
        our people.

        "At the front, October 24th, 10 P.M."

This proclamation which was signed by Field Marshal Von Hindenburg was
later signed by Ludendorff. It resulted in the Kaiser's immediate orders
for a special conference at which both of these officials were dismissed
from the Imperial German army.

Von Tirpitz in his Memoirs laid stress on the effect of the Wilson
submarine notes. Ludendorff declares in his book that the "Wilson
propaganda" that found root in Berlin and finally grew there eventually
convinced the German people that it was not they themselves, but the
Government and militarism that the United States was warring against.
_This was the seed of dissension that ruined German morale at home._

_Tirpitz declared that the beginning of the end came when in answer to the
President's_ Sussex _note, "We showed the world that we were going down
before America."_

Probably the most enlightening chapter of either book is that containing
Tirpitz's contention that the influence of the Wilson submarine notes
resulted in Japan's stronger and more active alliance with the Allies. In
this connection Von Tirpitz says:

    Only the transmitting to Germany of the threatening notes of President
    Wilson, when he inveighed against my submarine campaign during the
    latter stages of the war, prevented Japan from coming to us in a great
    Germano-Japanese alliance, which would have ended the war at once.

The overtures of the Pope, in August, 1917, were rejected and again the
attention of the world was arrested by the masterly leadership of the
American President. On August 16, 1917, I addressed the following letter
to the President with reference to the offers of peace made by His
Holiness Pope Benedict XV:

    The White House, Washington,
      16 August, 1917.

    DEAR GOVERNOR:

    I do not believe that the proposals the Pope has submitted should lead
    us into a statement as to the terms of peace beyond that which the
    President has already given expression to in his address in the Senate
    and in his Russian note. In these two documents are discussed the
    fundamentals of international peace. Some of these fundamentals the
    Pope recognizes in his statement to the belligerents. To go beyond a
    discussion of these now might lead to a conflict of opinion even among
    our own allies (for instance, France hopes for the return of Alsace
    Lorraine; Russia, for Constantinople, etc.).

    When the President said in his address of April second, last, that we
    were not making war on the German people, I believe he set the stage
    for the abdication of the Kaiser. And I think our whole note in reply
    to the Pope should be so framed that this idea would always be kept in
    the forefront of our discussion so as to bring home to the people of
    Germany the distrust and utter contempt in which the ruling powers of
    Germany are held by the peoples of the world.

    Our note in reply to the Pope should, I believe, embody the following
    ideas:

    "First--More important now than the terms of peace are the spirit and
    character of the nations who wish to end the war.

    "Second--How can any international agreement to bring an end to the
    conflict be discussed until those who brought it about can be made to
    realize the inviolability of treaty obligations?

    "Third--Attack the good faith of the ruling powers of Germany, calling
    attention to the fact that Germany brought on the war; that Germany
    invaded Belgium; that Germany ravished France, sank the _Lusitania_,
    ravished the women and children of the conquered territories; that
    Germany decreed submarine warfare, and 'erected barbarism into a
    religion.

    "Fourth--And the democratic nations of the world are asked to confide
    their future and the future of the world to a nation that believes
    that force of arms should be substituted for the moral force of right.
    In other words, the ruling powers of Germany must purge themselves of
    contempt before they shall be given the hearing that the Pope feels
    they are entitled to."

    This form of reply will, I am sure, rouse the people of Germany to a
    realization of the situation which confronts them, for there is
    abundant evidence that they are gradually arriving at the conclusion
    that the Kaiser no longer represents them or their ideals.

    In other words, what I should like to see the President do is not to
    discuss in extenso our terms of peace but rather confine himself to a
    general attack upon the lack of good faith on the part of Germany in
    all of her dealings with us.

    TUMULTY.

On August 27, 1917, the President, through, his Secretary of State,
addressed the following reply to the Pope:

    TO HIS HOLINESS BENEDICTUS XV, POPE:

    In acknowledgment of the communication of Your Holiness to the
    belligerent peoples, dated August 1, 1917, the President of the United
    States requests me to transmit the following reply:

    Every heart that has not been blinded and hardened by this terrible
    war must be touched by this moving appeal of His Holiness the Pope,
    must feel the dignity and force of the humane and generous motives
    which prompted it, and must fervently wish that we might take the path
    of peace he so persuasively points out. But it would be folly to take
    it if it does not in fact lead to the goal he proposes. Our response
    must be based upon the stern facts and upon nothing else. It is not a
    mere cessation of arms he desires: it is a stable and enduring peace.
    This agony must not be gone through with again, and it must be a
    matter of very sober judgment what will insure us against it.

     His Holiness in substance proposes that we return to the _status quo
    ante bellum_, and that then there be a general condonation,
    disarmament, and a concert of nations based upon an acceptance of the
    principle of arbitration; that by a similar concert freedom of the
    seas be established; and that the territorial claims of France and
    Italy, the perplexing problems of the Balkan States, and the
    restitution of Poland be left to such conciliatory adjustments as may
    be possible in the new temper of such a peace, due regard being paid
    to the aspirations of the peoples whose political fortunes and
    affiliations will be involved.

    It is manifest that no part of this programme can be carried out
    successfully unless the restitution of the _status quo ante_ furnishes
    a firm and satisfactory basis for it. The object of this war is to
    deliver the free peoples of the world from the menace and the actual
    power of a vast military establishment controlled by an irresponsible
    government which, having secretly planned to dominate the world,
    proceeded to carry the plan out without regard either to the sacred
    obligations of treaty or the long-established practices and long-
    cherished principles of international action and honour; which chose
    its own time for the war; delivered its blow fiercely and suddenly;
    stopped at no barrier either of law or mercy; swept a whole continent
    within the tide of blood--not the blood of soldiers only, but the
    blood of innocent women and children also and of the helpless poor;
    and now stands balked but not defeated, the enemy of four fifths of
    the world. This power is not the German people. It is the ruthless
    master of the German people. It is no business of ours how that great
    people came under its control or submitted with temporary zest to the
    domination of its purpose: but it is our business to see to it that
    the history of the rest of the world is no longer left to its
    handling.

    To deal with such a power by way of peace upon the plan proposed by
    His Holiness the Pope would, so far as we can see, involve a
    recuperation of its strength and a renewal of its policy; would make
    it necessary to create a permanent hostile combination of nations
    against the German people who are its instruments; and would result in
    abandoning the newborn Russia to intrigue, the manifold subtle
    interference, and the certain counter-revolution which would be
    attempted by all the malign influences to which the German Government
    has of late accustomed the world. Can peace be based upon a
    restitution of its power or upon any word of honour it could pledge in
    a treaty of settlement and accommodation?

    Responsible statesmen must now everywhere see, if they never saw
    before, that no peace can rest securely upon political or economic
    restrictions meant to benefit some nations and cripple or, embarrass
    others, upon vindictive action of any sort, or any kind of revenge or
    deliberate injury. The American people have suffered intolerable
    wrongs at the hands of the Imperial German Government, but they desire
    no reprisal upon the German people who have themselves suffered all
    things in this war which they did not choose. They believe that peace
    should rest upon the rights of peoples, not the rights of governments
    --the rights of peoples great or small, weak or powerful--their equal
    right to freedom and security and self-government and to a
    participation upon fair terms in the economic opportunities of the
    world, the German people of course included if they will accept
    equality and not seek domination.

    The test, therefore, of every plan of peace is this: Is it based upon
    the faith of all the peoples involved or merely upon the word of an
    ambitious and intriguing government on the one hand and of a group of
    free peoples on the other? This is a test which goes to the root of
    the matter; and it is the test which must be applied.

    The purposes of the United States in this war are known to the whole
    world, to every people to whom the truth has been permitted to come.
    They do not need to be stated again. We seek no material advantage of
    any kind. We believe that the intolerable wrongs done in this war by
    the furious and brutal power of the Imperial German Government ought
    to be repaired, but not at the expense of the sovereignty of any
    people--rather a vindication of the sovereignty both of those that are
    weak and those that are strong. Punitive damages, the dismemberment of
    empires, the establishment of selfish and exclusive economic leagues,
    we deem inexpedient and in the end worse than futile, no proper basis
    for a peace of any kind, least of all for an enduring peace. That must
    be based upon justice and fairness and the common rights of mankind.

    We cannot take the word of the present rulers of Germany as a guaranty
    of anything that is to endure, unless explicitly supported by such
    conclusive evidence of the will and purpose of the German people
    themselves as the other peoples of the world would be justified in
    accepting. Without such guaranties treaties of settlement, agreements
    for disarmament, covenants to set up arbitration in the place of
    force, territorial adjustments, reconstitutions of small nations, if
    made with the German Government, no man, no nation could now depend
    on. We must await some new evidence of the purposes of the great
    peoples of the Central Powers. God grant it may be given soon and in a
    way to restore the confidence of all peoples everywhere in the faith
    of nations and the possibility of a covenanted peace.

    ROBERT LANSING,
      Secretary of State of the United States.




CHAPTER XXXII

COLONEL ROOSEVELT AND GENERAL WOOD


It will be recalled that early in the war Colonel Roosevelt called at the
White House to confer with the President regarding his desire to lead a
brigade to the other side. I recall distinctly every fact of that meeting.
I was seated a few feet away in the Red Room of the White House at the
time these two men were conferring. Nothing could have been pleasanter or
more agreeable than this meeting. They had not met since they were
political opponents in 1912, but prior to that they had had two or three
friendly visits with each other. Mr. Wilson had once lunched with Colonel
Roosevelt at Sagamore Hill, and when the Colonel was President, he and his
party had been luncheon guests of President and Mrs. Wilson of Princeton
University on the occasion of an Army and Navy game played on the
Princeton gridiron.

They met in the White House in the most friendly fashion, told each other
anecdotes, and seemed to enjoy together what the Colonel was accustomed to
call a "bully time."

The object of the Colonel's call was discussed without heat or bitterness.
The President placed before the Colonel his own ideas regarding Mr.
Roosevelt's desire to serve, and the attitude of the General Staff toward
the volunteer system, a system that would have to be recognized if the
Colonel's ambition was to be realized. As a matter of fact, instead of
being moved by any ill will toward the Colonel, the inclination of the
President was to overrule the recommendation of the General Staff and urge
that the Colonel be granted permission to go over seas. The salutations at
the end of the conference were most friendly and the Colonel, on his way
out, stopped in to see me. He slapped me on the back in the most friendly
way, and said: "By Jove, Tumulty, you are a man after my own heart! Six
children, eh? Well now, you get me across and I will put you on my staff,
and you may tell Mrs. Tumulty that I will not allow them to place you at
any point of danger."

Some weeks later, I received the following letter from Colonel Roosevelt:

    Oyster Bay, Long Island, N. Y.
      April 12, 1917.

    MY DEAR MR. TUMULTY:

    That was a fine speech of Williams. I shall write him and congratulate
    him.

    Now, don't forget that it might be a very good thing to have you as
    one of my commissioned officers at Headquarters. You could do really
    important work there, and tell Mrs. Tumulty and the six children, that
    this particular service would probably not be dangerous. Come, sure!

    Sincerely yours,
      THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

    MR. JOSEPH P. TUMULTY,
      Secretary to the President,
      Washington, D.C.

After the Colonel departed, the President in a boyish way said: "Well, and
how did the Colonel impress you?" I told the President of the very
favourable impression the Colonel had made upon me by his buoyancy, charm
of manner, and his great good nature. The President replied by saying:
"Yes, he is a great big boy. I was, as formerly, charmed by his
personality. There is a sweetness about him that is very compelling. You
can't resist the man. I can easily understand why his followers are so
fond of him."

[Illustration: Colonel Roosevelt sent this letter to Mr. Tumulty shortly
after his one and only call upon President Wilson at the White House.
[Transcriber's note: contains a reproduction of the letter from Roosevelt
quoted above.]]

It was, therefore, with real pain that the President read the account of
this interview as contained in John J. Leary's book entitled "Talks with
T. R.," containing many slighting references made by the Colonel to the
President. It appears that Mr. Leary accompanied the Colonel to the White
House and immediately upon the conclusion of the conference was the
recipient of a confidential statement of the Colonel's impression of the
President. The account in Mr. Leary's book is as follows:

    I found that, though I had written plainly enough, there was confusion
    in his [Wilson's] mind as to what I wanted to do. I explained
    everything to him. He seemed to take it well, but--remember I was
    talking to Mr. Wilson.

           *       *       *       *       *

    Tumulty, by way of a half joke, said he might go to France with me. I
    said: 'By Jove, you come right along! I'll have a place for you.' I
    would, too, but it wouldn't be the place he thinks. It is possible he
    might be sent along as sort of a watchdog to keep Mr. Wilson informed
    as to what was being done. He wouldn't be, though. He'd keep his
    distance from headquarters except when he was sent for.

           *       *       *       *       *

    He [Wilson] has promised me nothing definitely, but as I have said, if
    any other man than he talked to me as he did, I would feel assured. If
    I talked to another man as he talked to me it would mean that that man
    was going to get permission to fight. But I was talking to Mr. Wilson.
    His words may mean much, they may mean little. He has, however, left
    the door open.

Of course, what ultimately happened is clear to everyone, civilian and
soldier, who pauses a moment to reflect; as plans for the conduct of the
war matured, it became continually clearer that it must be a professional
war, conducted by professionals with complete authority over subordinates.
There could be no experimenting with volunteer commanders, no matter how
great their valour, how pure their motives, or how eminent their positions
in the nation. To make an exception of Colonel Roosevelt would have been
to strike at the heart of the whole design. Military experts and the
majority of Congressional opinion were at one in this matter, though
Congress put upon the President the responsibility of making the final
decision, together with whatever obloquy this would entail. It was purely
as a step in the interest of waging the war with greatest effectiveness
that the President announced the decision adverse to the Colonel's wishes.
Personally it would have been pleasanter for the President to grant the
Colonel's request, but President Wilson has never adopted "the easiest
way."

A great deal of criticism was heaped upon the President for what appeared
to the outside as his refusal to send General Leonard Wood to France.
Although a fierce storm of criticism beat upon him, the President
displayed no resentment, nor, indeed, did he seem to notice what his
critics were saying.

As a matter of fact, the President played no part in the movement to keep
General Wood from realizing his ambition to lead his division to France.
Mr. George Creel in his book, "The War, The World and Wilson," has
succinctly summarized this incident; has told how the name of General Wood
did not appear in any of the lists of officers received from General
Pershing; how the President took this as a plain indication that General
Pershing did not desire General Wood in France (the absence of so eminent
a name from the lists was certainly not an oversight 011 the part of the
Commanding General in France); how President Wilson was determined to
support General Pershing in every detail so long as General Pershing in
the President's opinion was meeting the requirements of the great
responsibility laid upon him; how the President was insistent that General
Pershing should not be embarrassed by political considerations of any kind
in the discharge of his great military duty; how the unfortunate feature
of the whole matter was that the recall of General Wood did not come until
"after he had taken his brigade to New York preparatory to sailing for the
other side"; how "General March treated the circumstance as one of
military routine entirely, utterly failing to realize its political
importance"; how "instead of informing General Wood at once that he had
not been chosen to go to France, General March followed the established
procedure and waited for the completion of the training period before
issuing orders to the division commanders"; how "General Wood left Camp
Funston in advance of his division and without waiting to receive his
orders"; how General March sent these orders to New York; how "in
consequence there was an appearance of eleventh-hour action, an effect of
jerking General Wood from the very deck of the transport"; how "General
Wood carried his complaint to the President and was told plainly that the
list would not be revised in the personal interest of any soldier or
politician."

I discussed the matter with General Wood immediately upon the conclusion
of his conference with the President. Walking into my office after his
interview, the General informed me that his talk with the President was
most agreeable and satisfactory and that he was certain, although the
President did not intimate it to him, that the reason for his being held
in America could not be attributed to the President. Turning to me, the
General said: "I know who is responsible for this. It is that man
Pershing." I assured the General that there was nothing in the President's
attitude toward him that was in the least degree unfriendly, and reminded
him how the President had retained him as Chief of Staff when he assumed
office in 1913. The General, very much to my surprise, intimated that back
of Pershing's attitude toward him was political consideration. I tried to
reassure him and, indeed, I resented this characterization of General
Pershing as an unjust and unwarranted imputation upon the Commander of the
American Expeditionary Forces.

I myself felt that General Wood was being unfairly treated, although I did
not admit this to him in our interview. I took the liberty of saying this
to the President over the telephone from my house that evening. I tried to
convince the President that there was a feeling rapidly spreading
throughout the country that Wood was being unfairly treated and that it
was not just that the Administration, which I knew was blameless in the
matter, should be compelled to bear the responsibility of the whole thing
and pay what I was certain would be a great price in the loss of popular
esteem.

The President in his reply to my statement showed irritation at what I
said in General Wood's behalf, and used very emphatic language in
conveying to me the idea that he would not interfere in having the list,
upon which General Wood's name appeared, revised. I urged that if General
Wood was not to be sent to France, he should be given a chance to go to
Italy. Our conversation over the telephone in reference to the Wood matter
was as follows: "I trust, Governor, that you can see your way clear to
send General Wood either to France or to Italy."

Without a moment's hesitation, the President said: "I am sorry, but it
cannot be done."

Whereupon, I said: "It is not fair that the Administration should be
carrying the burden of this whole affair. If General Pershing or the
General Staff is responsible for holding General Wood in this country,
surely they have good reason, and the public ought to be apprised of it,
and thus remove the suspicion that we are playing politics."

The President quickly interrupted me and said: "I am not at all interested
in any squabble or quarrel between General Pershing and General Wood. The
only thing I am interested in is winning this war. I selected General
Pershing for this task and I intend to back him up in every recommendation
he makes."

When I tried to emphasize the feeling of dissatisfaction throughout the
country over the Wood incident, he replied that the responsibility of
winning the war was upon General Pershing and himself and not upon the
critics who thought that General Wood was being badly treated. I then
said: "But it is not fair to you to have it said that by reason of some
feeling that you may have against Wood you are keeping him on this side."

The President replied: "I am sorry, but I do not care a damn for the
criticism of the country. It would not be fair to Pershing if I tried to
escape what appears to be my responsibility. I do not intend to embarrass
General Pershing by forcing his hand. If Pershing does not make good, I
will recall him, but it must not be said that I have failed to support him
at every turn."

His attitude toward Wood and Roosevelt was consistently maintained, in
supporting the General Staff and the War Department throughout the war.
The only thing that seemed to interest him was how quickly and effectively
to do the job and to find the man who could do it.




CHAPTER XXXIII

WILSON, THE WARRIOR


The President had but one object: to throw all the nation's energy into
the scale for the defeat of Germany. Because he did not bluster and voice
daily hymns of hate against Germany, he was singularly misunderstood by
some of his fellow-citizens, who, in their own boiling anger against the
enemy, would sometimes peevishly inquire: "Does he really hate Germany?"
The President was too much occupied with deeds to waste time in word-
vapouring. By every honourable means he had sought to avoid the issue, but
a truculent and fatuous foe had made war necessary, and into that war the
peace-loving President went with the grim resolution of an iron warrior.
In his attitude before and during the war his motto might have been the
familiar words of Polonius:

  Beware of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
  Bear't, that the opposed may beware of thee.

Occasionally, as at Baltimore, on April 6, 1918, the public heard from him
brief, ringing speeches of warlike resolution:

    Germany has once more said that force and force alone shall decide
    whether Justice and Peace shall reign in the affairs of men, whether
    Right as America conceives it or Dominion as she conceives it shall
    determine the destinies of mankind. There is therefore but one
    response possible from us. Force, Force to the utmost, Force without
    stint or limit, the righteous and triumphant Force which shall make
    Right the law of the world, and cast every selfish Dominion down in
    the dust.

Months after hostilities had ended, there appeared from time to time in
the newspapers, without his or my knowledge of proposed publication,
utterances of his to military men during the conflict which showed his
warrior heart and his extraordinary ability to grasp a technical military
problem such as his dispatch to Admiral Sims, his address to the officers
of the Atlantic Fleet, and his interview with Marshal Joffre in the White
House. Perhaps it is not generally known that Mr. Wilson, who has
constantly read and loved the philosophic poetry of Wordsworth, has also
been an intense admirer of Shakespeare's warrior-hero, Henry the Fifth,
and has frequently read aloud to friends, with exclamations of admiration,
the stirring speeches of Henry in the Shakespearean play.

The cable message to Admiral Sims is as follows:

    FROM THE PRESIDENT FOR ADMIRAL SIMS,
       American Embassy, London, July 5, 1917.

    _Strictly confidential_.

    From the beginning of the war, I have been greatly surprised at the
    failure of the British Admiralty to use Great Britain's great naval
    superiority in an effective way. In the presence of the present
    submarine emergency they are helpless to the point of panic. Every
    plan we suggest they reject for some reason of prudence. In my view,
    this is not a time for prudence but for boldness even at the cost of
    great losses. In most of your dispatches you have quite properly
    advised us of the sort of aid and cooperation desired from us by the
    Admiralty. The trouble is that their plans and methods do not seem to
    us efficacious. I would be very much obliged to you if you would
    report to me, confidentially, of course, exactly what the Admiralty
    has been doing, and what they have accomplished, and add to the report
    your own comments and suggestions, based upon independent thought of
    the whole situation, without regard to the judgments of any one on
    that side of the water. The Admiralty was very slow to adopt the
    protection or convoy and it is not now, I judge [protecting] convoys
    on adequate scale within the danger zone, seeming to keep small craft
    with the grand fleet. The absence of craft for convoy is even more
    apparent on the French coast than on the English coast and in the
    Channel. I do not see how the necessary military supplies and supplies
    of food and fuel oil are to be delivered at British ports in any other
    way within the next few months than under adequate convoy. There will
    presently not be ships or tankers enough and our shipbuilding plans
    may not begin to yield important results in less than eighteen months.
    I believe that you will keep these instructions absolutely and
    entirely to yourself, and that you will give me such advice as you
    would give if you were handling and if you were running a navy of your
    own.

    (Signed) WOODROW WILSON.

For sheer audacity, there is not much that can be compared with his
address to the officers of the Atlantic Fleet on August 11, 1917:

    Now, the point that is constantly in my mind, gentlemen, is this: This
    is an unprecedented war and, therefore, it is a war in one sense for
    amateurs. Nobody ever before conducted a war like this and therefore
    nobody can pretend to be a professional in a war like this. Here are
    two great navies, not to speak of the others associated with us, our
    own and the British, outnumbering by a very great margin the navy to
    which we are opposed and yet casting about for a war in which to use
    our superiority and our strength, because of the novelty of the
    instruments used, because of the unprecedented character of the war,
    because, as I said just now, nobody ever before fought a war like
    this, in the way that this is being fought at sea, or on land either,
    for that matter. The experienced soldier--experienced in previous
    wars--is a back number so far as his experience is concerned; not so
    far as his intelligence is concerned. His experience does not count,
    because he never fought a war as this is being fought, and therefore
    he is an amateur along with the rest of us. Now, somebody has got to
    think this war out. Somebody has got to think out the way not only to
    fight the submarine, but to do something different from what we are
    doing.

    We are hunting hornets all over the farm and letting the nest alone.
    None of us know how to go to the nest and crush it; and yet I despair
    of hunting for hornets all over the sea when I know where the nest is
    and know that the nest is breeding hornets as fast as I can find them.
    I am willing for my part, and I know you are willing because I know
    the stuff you are made of--I am willing to sacrifice half the navy
    Great Britain and we together have to crush out that nest, because if
    we crush it the war is won. I have come here to say that I do not care
    where it comes from, I do not care whether it comes from the youngest
    officer or the oldest, but I want the officers of this navy to have
    the distinction of saying how this war is going to be won. The
    Secretary of the Navy and I have just been talking over plans for
    putting the planning machinery of the Navy at the disposal of the
    brains of the Nav