Woodrow Wilson as I Know Him Part 17

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 circ.u.mstances 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 pa.s.sed between Willc.o.x, 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 reelection, 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 st.u.r.dy 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 const.i.tuted 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 pa.s.sionate, 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 a.s.sociate 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 pa.s.sionate feelings to govern his public acts.

It would have been a dramatic adventure to accept Germany's a.s.sault 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 a.s.sistance 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 pa.s.sions 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 sh.o.r.es. 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 Amba.s.sador 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 embarra.s.s 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 embarra.s.sing 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 a.s.sailing 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 att.i.tude 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 pa.s.sionate 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 G.o.d'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 att.i.tude 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 circ.u.mstances 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 a.n.a.lysis 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 dispa.s.sionately 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 G.o.d, 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 a.s.sociated 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 hara.s.sed 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 embarra.s.s 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 const.i.tuted 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 a.n.a.lysis, 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.