Woodrow Wilson is not a showy fighter, but he is a tenacious and a courageous one.

A little story came to me at the White House, illustrating alike the calmness and the fighting quality of Woodrow Wilson. The incident happened while he was a student at the University of Virginia. It appears that some of the University boys went to a circus and had got into a fight with the circus men and been sadly worsted. They called a meeting at "wash hall," as they termed it. Many of the boys made ringing speeches, denouncing the brutality and unfairness of the circus people and there was much excitement. It was then moved that all the boys present should proceed to the circus and give proper battle, to vindicate the honour of the college. Just before the motion was put a slim, black-haired, solemn youth arose from his seat in the rear of the hall, and walking up the aisle, requested a hearing. He stated that perhaps he was being forward, because he was a "first-year" man, in asking to be heard; that he felt that the action of the circus men deserved the severest condemnation; that it was a natural impulse to want to punish cowardly acts and to "clean up" the show; but that it was lawlessness they were about to engage in; that it would bring disgrace on the college, as well as on the state and the Southland; more than this, many of the showmen would be armed with clubs, knives, and pistols, and if the boys did go, some of them might not come back alive and others might be maimed or crippled for life. He then paused, but resuming, said, "However, if my views do not meet with your approval; if you decide to go as a body, or if a single man wants to go to fight, I shall ask to go with him."

Was not his attitude in this incident characteristic of his dealing with Germany? He was patient with Germany and stood unmoved under the bitterest criticism and ridicule; but when he found that patience was no longer a virtue, he went into the war in the most ruthless way and punished Germany for her attempt to control the high seas.

I recall my own antagonism to him in New Jersey when I was engaged, as now certain of his enemies are engaged, in attacking him, and I recall how my opposition abated and altogether disappeared by the recital by one of his friends to me one day of the controversy among the Princeton Trustees that arose over the now-famous Proctor gift. I was discussing the Princeton professor with this old friend one day and I said to him that I suspected that Wall Street interests were back of his candidacy for the governorship. My friend said, "Tumulty, you are wrong. There is no unwholesome interest or influence back of Wilson. I tell you he is a fine fellow and if he is elected governor, he will be a free man." He then cited the instance of the Princeton fight over the Proctor gift. It will be recalled that Mr. Proctor bequeathed to Princeton University a large sum of money, but attached certain conditions to the gift that had to do with the policy or internal control of the University. The gift was made at a time when Princeton was in sore need of funds. President Wilson, in a prolonged fight, bitterly waged by some who had been his close personal friends, persuaded the Board of Trustees to vote, by a narrow margin, for rejection of the gift on the grounds that a great educational institution could not afford to have its internal policies dictated by purchase on the part of a rich man. By his position he alienated from his leadership many of the wealthy, influential Princeton alumni, especially in the larger Eastern cities, but he stood like a rock on the principle that the educational policy of a college must be made by those authorized to make it and not changed at the bidding of wealthy benefactors. This was a convincing answer to my attack upon the Princeton professor.

This same moral courage was given free play on many an occasion during our intimacy. It was made manifest in the famous Panama Tolls fight, at a time when he was warned that a fight made to rectify mistakes in the matter of Panama tolls would destroy his political future.

He was always a fair fighter and a gentleman throughout every contest he engaged in. Many unkind and untrue things were said about Woodrow Wilson from the time he entered politics, but there is one charge that has never been made against him and that is the charge of untruthfulness or "hitting below the belt." No one in the country during his eight years at the White House ever charged him with making an untrue statement. No politician or statesman ever said that Wilson had broken a promise, though many have complained that he would not make promises.

In the matter of promises I never met a man who was so reluctant to give a promise, especially in the matter of bestowing office upon willing candidates. I have known him on many occasions to make up his mind for months in advance to appoint a certain man and yet he would not say so to his most intimate friends who urged it. Speaking to me one day about the matter of promises, he said, "The thing to do is to keep your mind open until you are bound to act. Then you have freedom of action to change your mind without being charged with bad faith."

One reason for the charge made against him of coldness and "political ingratitude" was that he steadfastly refused to barter public offices for political support. He is by instinct, as well as by conviction, utterly opposed to the "spoils system." He considers government the people's business to be conducted as such and not as a matter of personal exchange of political favours. Nor can those who failed to get from him what they fancied their political services earned, complain truthfully that they were deceived by him into supposing that he shared their own opinion of their deserts. Frequently they had explicit warning to the contrary. There was the case of Jim Smith and the New Jersey machine, for instance. When those gentlemen paid the president of Princeton University an unsolicited call to suggest that he be candidate for the Democratic nomination for the governorship of New Jersey, Mr. Wilson, after thanking them for the compliment, with disconcerting directness asked, "Gentlemen, why do you want me as the candidate?" They replied, because they believed he could be elected and they wanted a Democratic governor. He asked why they believed he could be elected, he who had never held any public office. They answered that the people of New Jersey would have confidence in him. "Precisely," said Mr. Wilson; "they will have confidence in me because they will believe that I am free of the political entanglements which have brought distress to New Jersey, because they are tired of political bargain and sale, because they want their government delivered back into their hands. They want a government pledged to nobody but themselves. Now, don't you see, gentlemen, that if I should consider your flattering suggestion, I must be what the people think I am. I must be free to consider nothing but their interests. There must be no strings tied to your proposal. I cannot consider it an obligation of returned personal favours to any individual. We must clearly understand that we are acting in the interest of the people of New Jersey and in the interest of nobody else." If the self-constituted committee thought this merely handsome talk without specific meaning, they had only themselves to thank for their subsequent predicament. They found he meant exactly what he said.

There has never been a public man in America with a profounder faith in popular government, or a stronger conviction that the bane of free government is secret bargaining among those ambitious to trade public office for private benefits. Mr. Wilson could no more pay for political support from public offices than he could pay for it from the public treasury. He abhors all forms of political favoritism including nepotism. He not only would not appoint kinsmen to office; he would discountenance their appointment by others. He resisted the efforts of well-meaning friends to have his brother, Mr. Joseph R. Wilson, Jr., who had rendered a substantial service to the 1912 campaign by his effective work as a trained journalist, elected secretary of the United States Senate, saying that his brother in this position would inevitably be misunderstood, would be thought a spy on the Senate to report matters to the President. His son-in-law, Mr. Francis B. Sayre, is by profession a student of international law, a professor of the subject in Harvard University, and as such was employed by Colonel House on the research committee preparatory to the Paris Conference. Mr. Sayre assumed he was to go to Paris, but the President set his personal veto on this, saying that it would not do for the President's son-in-law to be on a list of those who were going abroad at the public expense. When Mr. Sayre asked if he could not go and pay his own expenses, the President replied, "No, because it would not be believed that you had really paid your own expenses." Mr. Sayre, respecting the President's views, did not press the claim.

If it has appeared that the President has sometimes "leaned backward" in these matters, it is because of his strong conviction that politicians have leaned too far forward in using public office for private rewards, a bad system toward which the President's attitude may be stated in Hamlet's impatient injunction to the players, "Oh, reform it altogether!"

My experiences with him, where one could witness the full play of the Scotch and Irish strains in him, came particularly in the matter of the numerous pardon cases and the applications for Executive Orders, placing this man or that woman under the classified civil service. The latter were only issued in rare instances and always over the protest of the Civil Service Commission. In many of these applications there was a great heartache or family tragedy back of them and to every one of them he gave the most sympathetic consideration.

I remember his remark to me one day when I was urging him to sign an Executive Order in behalf of a poor woman, the widow of an old soldier. After I had argued with him for a time he turned to me and said, "Every unfortunate person in distress seems to come to me for relief, but I must not let my sympathies get the best of me, it would not be right to do these things upon any basis of sympathy." Although I stood rebuked, the order was signed. It was a thing urged against him in the last campaign, that he held the record for the number of Executive Orders issued by him. His Scotch nature would also assert itself on many occasions. While I was living with the President at the White House one summer, on a night after dinner we engaged in the discussion of an article which appeared that month in one of the popular magazines of the country. In this article Woodrow Wilson was portrayed as a great intellectual machine. Turning to me, he said, "Tumulty, have you read that article? What do you think of it?" I said that I thought in many respects it was admirable. "I don't agree with you at all," he said. "It is no compliment to me to have it said that I am only a highly developed intellectual machine. Good God, there is more in me than that!" He then said, rather sadly, "Well, I want people to love me, but I suppose they never will." He then asked me this question, "Do you think I am cold and unfeeling?" I replied, "No, my dear Governor, I think you are one of the warmest hearted men I ever met."

And when I say this of Woodrow Wilson I mean it. I hope I have all of the generous tendencies of my race and that I know a great heart when I see its actions. I could not have been associated with him all these years, witnessing the great heart in action, without having full faith in what I now say. No man of all my acquaintance, with whom I have discussed life in all of its phases and tragedies, at least those tragedies that stalked in and out of the White House, was more responsive, more sympathetic, and more inclined to pity and help than Woodrow Wilson. His eyes would fill with tears at the tale of some unfortunate man or woman in distress. It was not a cheap kind of sympathy. It was quiet, sincere, but always from the heart. The President continued talking to me—and now he spoke as the canny Scot—"I am cold in a certain sense. Were I a judge and my own son should be convicted of murder, and I was the only judge privileged to pass judgment upon the case, I would do my duty even to the point of sentencing him to death. It would be a hard thing to do but it would be my solemn duty as a judge to do it, but I would do it, because the state cannot be maintained and its sovereignty vindicated or its integrity preserved unless the law is strictly enforced and without favour. It is the business of the judge to uphold it and he must do it to the point of every sacrifice. If he fails, justice fails, the state falls. That looks cold- blooded, doesn't it? But I would do it." Then his voice lowered and he said, "Then, after sentencing my own son to death, I would go out and die of a broken heart, for it would surely kill me."

That is one key to the character of the man that was revealed before my own eyes in the years of our intimacy.

It showed itself on many other occasions. It was his idea of the duty of the trustee, the judge, the guardian.

I remember a visit that two very warm friends from the Pacific Coast made to him, both of whom had worked night and day for his cause in the great state of the Golden West.

Their son had been convicted and was incarcerated in the Federal Prison. They had every personal reason for feeling that a mere appeal on their part on behalf of this son would be a winning one, for their friendship with the President was one of long standing and most affectionate in character. I can see him now, standing in the centre of the room, with the two old people grouped about him, shaking his head and saying, "I wish I could do it, but I must not allow personal consideration to influence me in the least. I know it is hard for you to believe that I will turn away from your request, but the only basis upon which you make it is our friendship. I would be doing an injustice to many a boy like yours who has similarly offended and for whom no one is able to speak or approach me in the intimate contact which is your privilege. Please do not think me cold- hearted, but I cannot do it."

I remember one of the last pardon cases we handled in the White House was that of an old man, charged with violating the banking laws and sentenced to imprisonment. I pleaded with the President to pardon the old man; the Attorney General had recommended it, and some of the warm-hearted members of the President's family had gone to him and sought to exert their influence in behalf of the old man. It seemed as if everything was moving smoothly and that the old man might be pardoned, until the family influence was brought to bear. It was the last pardon case I brought to his attention before the fall of the curtain on March fourth. I went to him, and said, "My dear Governor, I hope you will close your official career here by doing an act of mercy." He smiled at me and I thought I could see the prison gates open for the old man, but when I mentioned the name in the case, the President stiffened up, stopped smiling, and looking at me in the coldest way, said, "I will not pardon this man. Certain members of my family to whom I am deeply devoted, as you know, have sought to influence my judgment in this matter. They have no right to do it. I should be unworthy of my trust as President were I to permit family interference of any kind to affect my public actions, because very few people in the country can exert that kind of influence and it must not be tolerated." The case was closed; the pardon refused.

He often spoke to me in the frankest way of his personal appearance; how he looked and appeared and of the "old Scotch face," as he called it, which gave him the appearance of what Caesar called a "lean and hungry look." Speaking at the annual banquet of the Motion Picture Board of Trade, he discussed his personal appearance in this way:

"I have sometimes been very much chagrined in seeing myself in a motion picture. I have wondered if I really was that kind of a 'guy.' The extraordinary rapidity with which I walked, for example, the instantaneous and apparently automatic nature of my motion, the way in which I produced uncommon grimaces, and altogether the extraordinary exhibition I made of myself sends me to bed very unhappy. And I often think to myself that, although all the world is a stage and men and women but actors upon it, after all, the external appearance of things are very superficial indeed."

He knew that his facial expression gave one the impression that he was a cold and canny Scot. In repose one would get that impression, but when that old Scotch face took on a winning smile it was most gracious and appealing. One of his favourite limericks was:

For beauty I am not a star, There are others more handsome by far. But my face I don't mind it, For I am behind it, It's the people in front that I jar.

Behind the cold exterior and beneath the "gleam of the waters" there was a warm, generous heart. I have often thought of the character discussed by Israel Zangwill in his book "The Mantle of Elijah." These lines, in my opinion, draw a perfect picture of Woodrow Wilson as I knew him:

Speaking of Allegra's father Zangwill said:

"With him freedom was no nebulous figure, aureoled with shining rhetoric, blowing her own trumpet, but Free Trade, Free Speech, Free Education. He did not rail against the Church as the enemy, but he did not count on it as a friend. His Millennium was earthly, human; his philosophy sunny, untroubled by Dantesque depths or shadows; his campaign unmartial, constitutional, a frank focussing of the new forces emergent from the slow dissolution of Feudalism and the rapid growth of a modern world. Towards such a man the House of Commons had an uneasy hostility. He did not play the game. Whig and Tory, yellow and blue, the immemorial shuffling of Cabinet cards, the tricks and honours—he seemed to live outside them all. He was no clubman in 'The best club in England.' He did not debate for argument's sake or to upset Ministers. He was not bounded by the walls of the Chamber nor ruler from the Speaker's chair; the House was resentfully conscious it had no final word over his reputation or his influence. He stood for something outside it, something outside himself, something large, vague, turbulent, untried, unplumbed, unknown—the People."

A little incident illustrating the warmth of the heart of Woodrow Wilson and the sympathetic way he manifested his feeling came to me in a letter received at the White House in 1920 from a Red Cross nurse, who was stationed at the Red Cross Base Hospital at Neuilly, France. An excerpt from it follows:

I might interest you to recite an incident within my own personal knowledge that proves the depths of his sympathy—his sincerity. I was one of the unit of Red Cross Workers who went to France to help our soldiers blinded in battle. I was at the time of this incident stationed at the Red Cross Base Hospital No. I at Neuilly. After a visit of the President and Mrs. Wilson to the hospital, one of my charges, a totally blind private to whom Mr. Wilson had spoken, said to me: "Miss Farrell, I guess the President must be very tired." I said, "Why do you think that, Walter?" "Well, because," replied the soldier, "he laughed and joked with all the other fellows but was so quiet when he talked with me and just said, 'Honourable wound, my boy,' so low I could hardly hear him. But say," continued Walter, "look at my hand please and see if it is all there, will you? The President sure has some hand and he used it when he shook hands. I'll say."

The fact was, Walter was the first blind soldier the President had met in France and knowing from experience the appeal the blind make to our emotions, I knew the President was so touched that he was overcome and couldn't joke further—he was scarcely able to manage the one remark and could not trust himself to venture another, 'Twas with tears in his eyes and a choking voice that he managed the one. Both he and Mrs. Wilson wept in that blind ward.

As a political fighter, he was gallant and square. No one ever heard him call an opponent a name or knew him unworthily to take advantage of an opponent.

Illustrative of the magnanimous attitude of the President toward his political enemies was the striking incident that occurred a few weeks before the close of the last Presidential campaign, 1920. Early one afternoon two Democratic friends called upon me at the Executive offices and informed me that they could procure certain documents that would go a long way toward discrediting the Republican campaign and that they could be procured for a money consideration. They explained the character of the documents to me and left it to me to say what I considered a fair price for them. They explained the serious nature of these documents, and it was certainly a delicate situation for me to handle and embarrassed me greatly. I was reluctant to offend these gentlemen, and yet I was certain from what they said that the documents, as they explained them to me, even though they might discredit the Republican campaign, were not of a character that any party of decent men ought to have anything to do with. When the gentlemen told me the name of the person who claimed to have these damaging papers in his possession, I at once recalled that we had in the files of the White House certain letters that could be used to discredit this very man who claimed to possess these incriminating documents. I thought it wise, therefore, to listen politely to these gentlemen until I could get a chance to confer with the President. I did this at once.

At this time the President was lying ill in his sick room at the White House. The nurse raised him up in the bed and I explained the whole situation to him, saying to him that it was my opinion that the Democratic party ought not to have anything to do with such a matter and that I thought we should at once apprise the Republican managers of the plan that was afoot to discredit by these unfair means the Republican candidate and campaign. When I told the President of the character of these documents that had been offered to me he was filled with indignation and said, "If we can't win this fight by fair means, we will not attempt to win it by unfair means. You have my authority to use whatever files we have against this party who would seek unfairly to attack the Republican nominee and you must at once notify the Republican managers of the plan proposed and explain the whole situation to them. Say to the Attorney General that he must place at the disposal of Mr. Harding and his friends every officer he has, if necessary, to disclose and overcome this plot. I am sure that Governor Cox will agree with me that this is the right and decent thing to do."

Acting upon the President's suggestion, I at once called upon a certain Republican senator from the West, now a member of President Harding's Cabinet, and told him of the proposed plot that was afoot to discredit the Republican campaign. I told him I was acting upon the express authority of the President. He expressed his high appreciation of the information I had brought him and informed me that he would place the matter in our hands with the utmost confidence in us to handle it honourably.

It ought to be said here that upon investigation, personally made by myself, I found that there was nothing in this whole matter that in the slightest degree reflected upon the honour or the integrity or high standing of President Harding.

One of the things for which President Wilson was unduly censured shortly after he took office was the recognition he gave to his political enemies in the Democratic party. The old-line politicians who had supported him in 1912 could not understand why the loaves and fishes were dealt out to these unworthy ones. Protests were made to the President by some of his close personal friends, but he took the position that as the leader of the party he was not going to cause resentment and antagonisms by seeming to classify Democrats; that as leader of his party he had to recognize all factions, and there quickly followed appointments of Clark men, Underwood men, Harmon men, all over the country. A case in point illustrates the bigness of the President in these matters—that of George Fred Williams as Minister to Greece. In the campaign of 1912 Mr. Williams had travelled up and down the state of Massachusetts making the bitterest sort of attacks upon Woodrow Wilson. I remember how I protested against this appointment. The President's only reply was that George Fred Williams was an eccentric fellow, but that he believed he was thoroughly honest. "I have no fault to find, Tumulty, with the men who disagree with me and I ought not to penalize them when they give expression to what they believe are honest opinions."

I have never seen him manifest any bitterness or resentment toward even his bitterest, most implacable enemies. Even toward William Randolph Hearst, whose papers throughout the country have been his most unrelenting foes, he never gave expression to any ill feeling or chagrin at the unfair attacks that were made upon him. I remember a little incident that shows the trend of his feelings in this regard, that occurred when we were discussing the critical Mexican situation. At this time the Hearst papers were engaged in a sensational propaganda in behalf of intervention in Mexico. The President said to me, "I heard of a delightful remark that that fine old lady, Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, made with reference to what she called her 'big boy Willie.' You know," he continued, "Mrs. Hearst does not favour intervention in Mexico and it was reported to me that she chided her son for his flaming headlines urging intervention, and told him that unless he behaved better she would have to take him over her knee and spank him."

The President has one great failing, inherent in the very character of the man himself, and this is his inborn, innate modesty—his unwillingness to dramatize the part he played in the great events of the war, so that the plain people of the country could see him and better understand him. There is no man living to-day who has a greater power of personal appeal or who is a greater master in the art of presenting ideals, facts, and arguments than Woodrow Wilson. As his secretary for nearly eleven years, I was often vexed because he did not, to use a newspaper phrase, "play up" better, but he was always averse to doing anything that seemed artificially contrived to win applause. Under my own eyes, seated in the White House offices, I have witnessed many a great story walk in and out but the President always admonished us that such things must not be pictured or capitalized in any way for political purposes; and thus every attempt we made to dramatize him, as Colonel Roosevelt's friends had played him up, was immediately placed under the Presidential embargo.

His unwillingness to allow us in the White House to "play him up" as the leading actor in this or that movement was illustrated in the following way: On July 1, 1919, a cable reached the White House from His Holiness, Pope Benedict, expressing the appreciation of His Holiness for the magnificent way in which the President had presented to the Peace Conference the demands of the Catholic Church regarding Catholic missions, and conveying to the President his thanks for the manner in which the President had supported those demands. The cable came at a time when certain leaders of my own church, the Roman Catholic Church, were criticizing and opposing the President for what they thought was his anti- Catholic attitude. I tried to induce the President to allow me to give publicity to the Pope's cable, but he was firm in his refusal. The cable from the Pope and the President's reply are as follows:

Rome, The Vatican. 1 July, 1919.

TO HIS EXCELLENCY, Doctor Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States.

EXCELLENCY:

Monsignor Carretti, upon his return from Paris, hastened to inform us with what spirit of moderation Your Excellency examined the demands regarding the Catholic Missions which we presented to the Peace Conference, and with what zeal Your Excellency subsequently supported these demands. We desire to express to you our sincere gratitude and at the same time we urge Your Excellency to be good enough to employ your great influence, also, in order to prevent the action, which according to the Peace Treaty with Germany it is desired to bring against the Kaiser and the highly placed German commanders. This action could only render more bitter national hatred and postpone for a long time that pacification of souls for which all nations long. Furthermore, this trial, if the rules of justice are to be observed, would meet insurmountable difficulties as may be seen from the attached article from the Osservatore Romano, which deals exclusively with the trial of the Kaiser, the newspaper reserving right to treat in another article the question of the trial of the generals.

It pleases us to take advantage of this new occasion to renew to Your Excellency the wishes which we entertain for your prosperity and that of your family, as well as for the happiness of the inhabitants of the Confederation of the United States.

(Signed) BENEDICTUS PP. XV.

* * * * *

The White House, Washington, D. C.

15 August, 1919.

YOUR HOLINESS:

I have had the pleasure of receiving at the hands of Monsignor Cossio the recent letter you were kind enough to write me, which I now beg to acknowledge with sincere appreciation. Let me assure you that it was with the greatest pleasure that I lent my influence to safeguarding the missionary interests to which you so graciously refer, and I am happy to say that my colleagues in the Conference were all of the same mind in this wish to throw absolute safeguards around such missions and to keep them within the influences under which they had hitherto been conducted.

I have read with the gravest interest your suggestion about the treatment which should be accorded the ex-Kaiser of Germany and the military officers of high rank who were associated with him in the war, and beg to say that I realize the force of the considerations which you urge. I am obliged to you for setting them so clearly, and shall hope to keep them in mind in the difficult months to come. With much respect and sincere good wishes for your welfare,

Respectfully and sincerely yours, (Signed) WOODROW WILSON.

His Holiness, Pope Benedict XV.



There was something too fine in his nature for the dramatics and the posturings of the political game, as it is usually played. He is a very shy man, too sincere to pose, too modest to make advances. He craves the love of his fellow-men with all his heart and soul. People see only his dignity, his reserve, but they cannot see his big heart yearning for the love of his fellow-men. Out of that loving heart of his has come the passion which controlled his whole public career—the passion for justice, for fair dealing, and democracy.

Never during the critical days of the war, when requests of all kinds poured in upon him for interviews of various sorts, did he lose his good- nature. Nor did he show that he was disturbed when various requests came from this or that man who claimed to have discovered some scientific means of ending the war.

The following letter to his old friend, Mr. Thomas D. Jones of Chicago, is characteristic of his feeling toward those who claimed to have made such a scientific discovery:

The White House, Washington, 25 July 1917.

My dear friend:

It was generous of you to see Mr. Kenney and test his ideas. I hope you derived some amusement from it at least. I am afraid I have grown soft-hearted and credulous in these latter days, credulous in respect to the scientific possibility of almost any marvel and soft-hearted because of the many evidences of simple-hearted purpose this war has revealed to me.

With warmest regard,

Cordially and faithfully yours, (Signed) WOODROW WILSON.

Nor did the little things of life escape him, as is shown by the following letter to Attorney General Gregory:

The White House, Washington, 1 October, 1918.

MY DEAR GREGORY:

The enclosed letter from his wife was handed to me this morning by a rather pitiful old German whom I see occasionally looking after the flowers around the club house at the Virginia Golf Course. I must say it appeals to me, and I am sending it to you to ask if there is any legitimate way in which the poor old fellow could be released from his present restrictions.

In haste,

Faithfully yours, (Signed) WOODROW WILSON.



I recall a day when he sat at his typewriter in the White House, preparing the speech he was to deliver at Hodgensville, Kentucky, in connection with the formal acceptance of the Lincoln Memorial, built over the log cabin birthplace of Lincoln. When he completed this speech, which I consider one of his most notable public addresses—perhaps in literary form, his best— he turned to me and asked me if I had any comment to make upon it. I read it very carefully. I then said to him, "Governor, there are certain lines in it that might be called a self-revelation of Woodrow Wilson." The lines that I had in mind were:

I have read many biographies of Lincoln; I have sought out with the greatest interest the many intimate stories that are told of him, the narratives of nearby friends, the sketches at close quarters, in which those who had the privilege of being associated with him have tried to depict for us the very man himself "in his habit as he lived"; but I have nowhere found a real intimate of Lincoln. I nowhere get the impression in my narrative or reminiscence that the writer had in fact penetrated to the heart of his mystery, or that any man could penetrate to the heart of it. That brooding spirit had no real familiars. I get the impression that it never spoke out in complete self-revelation, and that it could not reveal itself complete to any one. It was a very lonely spirit that looked out from underneath those shaggy brows, and comprehended men without fully communing with them, as if, in spite of all its genial efforts at comradeship, it dwelt apart, saw its visions of duty where no man looked on. There is a very holy and very terrible isolation for the conscience of every man who seeks to read the destiny in the affairs for others as well as for himself, for a nation as well as for individuals. That privacy no man can intrude upon. That lonely search of the spirit for the right perhaps no man can assist.

To Woodrow Wilson the business of government was a solemn thing, to which he gave every ounce of his energy and his great intellectual power. No President in the whole history of America ever carried weightier responsibilities than he. Night and day, with uncomplaining patience, he was at his post of duty, attending strictly to the pressing needs of the nation, punctiliously meeting every engagement, great or small. Indeed, no man that I ever met was more careless about himself or thought less of vacations for the purpose of rest and recuperation.

There are three interesting maps which show the mileage covered by Presidents Roosevelt, Taft, and Wilson. These maps show the states traversed by each of the Presidents. Great black smudges show the trail covered by President Roosevelt, which included every state in the Union, and equally large black marks show the territory covered by President Taft, but only a thin line shows the peregrinations and wanderings of President Wilson. The dynamic, forceful personality of Mr. Roosevelt, which radiated energy, charm, and good-nature, and the big, vigorous, lovable personality of Mr. Taft, put the staid, simple, modest, retiring personality of the New Jersey President, Mr. Wilson, at a tremendous disadvantage. Into the atmosphere created by these winning personalities of Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Taft the personality of Mr. Wilson did not easily fit, and he realized it, when he said to me one day, "Tumulty, you must realize that I am not built for the dramatic things of politics. I do not want to be displayed before the public, and if I tried it, I should do it badly."

Without attempting to belittle the great achievements of former Presidents of the United States, particularly Roosevelt, it is only fair to say that, comparing the situations which confronted them with those that met President Wilson from the very beginning of his incumbency, their jobs were small. As a genial Irishman once said to me, "Hell broke loose when Wilson took hold." Every unusual thing, every extraordinary thing, seemed to break and break against us. From the happening of the Dayton flood, which occurred in the early days of the Wilson Administration, down to the moment when he laid down the reins of office, it seemed as if the world in which we lived was at the point of revolution. Unusual, unprecedented, and remarkable things began to happen, things that required all the patience, indomitable courage, and tenacity of the President to hold them steady. The Mexican situation, left on our door-step, was one of the great burdens that he carried during his administration. Then came the fight for the revision of the tariff, the establishment of the Federal Reserve System, all items that constituted the great programme of domestic reform which emanated from the brain of Woodrow Wilson, and then in the midst of it all came the European war, the necessity for neutrality, the criticism which was heaped upon the President for every unusual happening which his critics seemed to think called for intervention of the United States in this great cataclysm. It was not a time for the camaraderie and good- fellowship that had characterized the good old days in which Mr. Roosevelt served as President.

And yet no man was less exclusive in dealing with the members of the Senate and House. In preparing the Federal Reserve Act in collaboration with Senator Glass, he was constantly in touch with the members of the Senate Banking and Currency Committee, in an endeavour to make clear the road for the passage of this important piece of constructive legislation. Constant demands were made upon his time and he gave of his energy and of the small reserve of strength that he had uncomplainingly and without a protest. No rest, no recreation, no vacation intervened. Every measure that he sought to press to enactment was the challenge to a great fight, as, for instance, the tariff, the currency, the rural credits, and the Panama tolls acts.

I have often been asked whether anger or passion ever showed itself in the President, and I am reminded of a little incident that happened at the White House during one of those conferences with the newspaper men, which, before the days of the war, and for a long time afterward, took place in the Executive offices. At the time of this particular conference, the President's first wife lay seriously ill at the White House, and stories were carried in the various newspapers exaggerating the nature of her illness, some of them going so far as to say she was suffering from this or from that disease. At the very time these stories were appearing in the newspapers there were also articles that his daughter, Margaret, was engaged to marry this man or that man. The President came to the newspaper men's conference this morning fighting mad. It was plain that something serious was afoot. Taking hold of the back of the chair, as if to strengthen himself for what he had to say, he looked squarely at the newspaper men and said, "I hope that you gentlemen will pardon me for a personal word this morning. I have read the stories that have appeared in certain newspapers of the country, containing outrageous statements about the illness of my wife and the marriage of my daughter. I realize that as President of the United States you have a perfect right to say anything you damn please about me, for I am a man and I can defend myself. I know that while I am President it will be my portion to receive all kinds of unfair criticism, and I would be a poor sport if I could not stand up under it; but there are some things, gentlemen, that I will not tolerate. You must let my family alone, for they are not public property. I acquit every man in this room of responsibility for these stories. I know that you have had nothing to do with them; but you have feelings and I have feelings, even though I am President. My daughter has no brother to defend her, but she has me, and I want to say to you that if these stories ever appear again I will leave the White House and thrash the man who dares to utter them."

A little letter came to my notice in which the President replies to an old friend in Massachusetts who had asked him to attempt to interpret himself:

MY DEAR FRIEND:

You have placed an impossible task upon me—that of interpreting myself to you. All I can say in answer to your inquiry is that I have a sincere desire to serve, to be of some little assistance in improving the condition of the average man, to lift him up, and to make his life more tolerable, agreeable, and comfortable. In doing this I try hard to purge my heart of selfish motives. It will only be known when I am dead whether or not I have succeeded.

Sincerely your friend, WOODROW WILSON.



CHAPTER XLV

THE SAN FRANCISCO CONVENTION

During the winter of 1919-1920 President Wilson was the target of vicious assaults. Mrs. Wilson and Admiral Grayson with difficulty curbed his eagerness to take a leading hand in the fight over the Peace Treaty in the Senate, and to organize the Democratic party on a fighting basis. It was not until after the Chicago Convention had nominated Mr. Harding and enunciated a platform repudiating the solemn obligations of the United States to the rest of the world that the President broke his silence of many months. Because he had something he wanted to say to the country he asked me to send for Louis Seibold, a trusted friend and an experienced reporter, then connected with the New York World. When Mr. Seibold arrived in Washington on the Tuesday following Mr. Harding's nomination, the President talked unreservedly and at length with him, discussed the Republican Convention, characterized its platform as "the apotheosis of reaction," and declared that "it should have quoted Bismarck and Bernhardi rather than Washington and Lincoln." During the two days of Mr. Seibold's visit to the White House he had abundant opportunity to observe the President's condition of health which had been cruelly misrepresented by hostile newspapers. Mr. Seibold found him much more vigorous physically than the public had been given to understand and mentally as alert and aggressive as he had been before his illness. Mr. Seibold's article, which by the way was regarded as a journalistic classic and for which Columbia University awarded the author the Pulitzer prize for the best example of newspaper reporting of the year, exposed the absurd rumours about the President's condition and furnished complete evidence of his determination to fight for the principles to establish which he had struggled so valiantly and sacrificed so much.

As the days of the San Francisco Convention approached those of us who were intimately associated with the President at the White House were warned by him that in the Convention fight soon to take place we must play no favourites; that the Convention must be, so far as the White House was concerned, a free field and no favour, and that our attitude of "hands off" and strict neutrality must be maintained. Some weeks before the Convention met the President conferred with me regarding the nominations, and admonished me that the White House must keep hands off, saying that it had always been charged in the past that every administration sought to use its influence in the organization of the party to throw the nomination this way or that. Speaking to me of the matter, he said, "We must make it clear to everyone who consults us that our attitude is to be impartial in fact as well as in spirit. Other Presidents have sought to influence the naming of their successors. Their efforts have frequently brought about scandals and factional disputes that have split the party. This must not happen with us. We must not by any act seek to give the impression that we favour this or that man."

This attitude was in no way an evidence of the President's indifference to the nominee of the Convention, or to what might happen at San Francisco. He was passionately anxious that his party's standard bearer should win at the election if for no other reason than to see his own policies continued and the League of Nations vindicated.

There was another and personal reason why he insisted that no White House interference should be brought into play for any particular nominee. His son-in-law, Mr. William G. McAdoo, was highly thought of in connection with the nomination, and therefore the President felt that he must be more than ordinarily strict in insisting that we keep hands off, for anything that savoured of nepotism was distasteful to him and, therefore, he "leaned backward" in his efforts to maintain a neutral position in the Presidential contest and to take no part directly or indirectly that might seem to give aid and comfort to the friends of his son-in-law. While Mr. McAdoo's political enemies were busily engaged in opposing him on the ground of his relationship to the President, as a matter of fact, the President was making every effort to disassociate himself and his administration from the talk that was spreading in favour of McAdoo's candidacy. While every effort was being made by Mr. McAdoo's enemies to give the impression that the Federal machine was being used to advance his candidacy, the President was engaged wholly in ignoring Mr. McAdoo's candidacy.

Every family visit which Mr. McAdoo and his wife, the President's daughter, paid the White House, was distorted in the newspaper reports carried to the country into long and serious conferences between the President and his son-in-law with reference to Mr. McAdoo's candidacy. I know from my own knowledge that the matter of the nomination was never discussed between the President and Mr. McAdoo. And Mr. McAdoo's real friends knew this and were greatly irritated at what they thought was the gross indifference on the part of the President to the political fortunes of his own son-in-law. So meticulously careful was the President that no one should be of the opinion that he was attempting to influence things in Mr. McAdoo's behalf, that there was never a discussion even between the President and myself regarding Mr. McAdoo's candidacy, although we had canvassed the availability of other Democratic candidates, as well as the availability of the Republican candidates.

I had often been asked what the President's attitude would be toward Mr. McAdoo's candidacy were he free to take part in the campaign. My only answer to these inquiries was that the President had a deep affection and an admiration for Mr. McAdoo as a great executive that grew stronger with each day's contact with him. He felt that Mr. McAdoo's sympathies, like his own, were on the side of the average man; and that Mr. McAdoo was a man with a high sense of public service.

And while the President kept silent with reference to Mr. McAdoo, the basis of his attitude was his conviction that to use his influence to advance the cause of his son-in-law was, in his opinion, an improper use of a public trust.

That he was strictly impartial in the matter of Presidential candidates was shown when Mr. Palmer, the Attorney General, requested me to convey a message to the President with reference to his [Palmer's] candidacy for the nomination, saying that he would be a candidate and would so announce it publicly if the President had no objection; or that he would resign from the Cabinet if the announcement would embarrass the President in any way, and that he would support any man the President saw fit to approve for this great office.

I conveyed this message to the President and he requested me to notify Mr. Palmer that he was free to do as he pleased, that he had no personal choice and that the Convention must be left entirely free to act as it thought proper and right and that he would gladly support the nominee of the Convention.

Mr. Homer S. Cummmgs, the permanent chairman of the Convention, Senator Glass of Virginia, and Mr. Colby, Secretary of State, called upon the President at the White House previous to taking the train for San Francisco to inquire if the President had any message for the Convention or suggestion in the matter of candidates or platforms. He informed them that he had no message to convey or suggestions to offer.

Thus, to the end, he maintained this attitude of neutrality. He never varied from this position from the opening of the Convention to its conclusion. There was no direct wire between the White House and the San Francisco Convention, although there were frequent long-distance telephone calls from Colby, Cummings, and others to me; never once did the President talk to any one at the Convention. At each critical stage of the Convention messages would come from someone, urging the President to say something, or send some message that would break the deadlock, but no reply was forthcoming. He remained silent.

There came a time when it looked as if things at the Convention had reached an impasse and that only the strong hand of the President could break the deadlock.

I was informed by long-distance telephone that the slightest intimation from the President would be all that was necessary to break the deadlock and that the Convention would nominate any one he designated.

[Illustration:

THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON

26 September 1920.

My dear Governor:

I think I have found a suitable way to begin our attack if you care to take part in this campaign. The whole country is filled with the poison spread by Lodge and his group and it has to do principally with the attacks made upon you for failing to consult anyone about possible changes in the Treaty and your reluctance toward suggesting to your associates on the other side changes of any kind.

George Creel and I have examined the cables that passed between you and Mr. Taft and we have prepared a statement which is attached to this letter. This statement, with the Taft cables will be a knockout (I know that Mr. Taft is already preparing a book on the Treaty which will carry these cables) and will clear the air and show how contemptible our enemies have been in circulating stories. We have carefully gone over the Covenant and find that nearly every change suggested by Mr. Taft was made and in come cases you went further than he asked.

George Creel is of the opinion that the statement should come from the White House.

Sincerely, (signed) Tumulty

* * * * *

Dear Tumulty,

I have read your letter of September twenty-sixth with a sincere effort to keep an open mind about the suggestions you make, but I must say that it has not changed my mind at all. No answers to Harding of any kind will proceed from the White House with my consent.

It pleases me very much that you and Creel are in collaboration on material out of which smashing answers can be made, and I beg that you will press those materials on the attention of the Speakers' Bureau of the National Committee. It is their clear duty to supply those materials in turn to the speakers of the campaign. If they will not, I am sorry to say I know of no other course that we can pursue,

The President. C. L. S.

An inside view of the Cox campaign]

I conveyed this information to the President. He shook his head. This told me that he would not act upon my suggestion and would in no way interfere with the Convention. To the end he steered clear of playing the part of dictator in the matter of the nomination. That he took advantage of every occasion to show that he was playing an impartial hand is shown by the documents which follow. The Associated Press had carried a story to the effect that Senator Glass had notified certain delegates that Governor Cox was persona non grata to the President. When Governor Cox's friends got me on the long-distance telephone and asked me if there was any foundation for such a story and after Governor Cox himself had talked with me over the 'phone from Columbus, I addressed the following note to the President:

4 July, 1920.

DEAR GOVERNOR:

Simply for your information:

Governor Cox just telephoned me from Columbus. He felt greatly aggrieved at the statement which it is claimed Glass gave out last night, and which he says prevented his nomination. He says that Glass made the statement that the President had said that "Governor Cox would not be acceptable to the Administration."

He says he has been a loyal supporter of the Administration and has asked no favours of it. He also says that Mr. Bryan has been attacking him in the most relentless way and that Mr. Bryan's antagonism toward him became particularly aggravated since the Jackson Day dinner, when the Governor went out of his way to disagree with Mr. Bryan in the matter of the Lodge reservations.

He thinks, whether he himself is nominated or not, this action of Glass's has hurt the Democratic chances in Ohio. He says he does not ask for any statement from the Administration, but he would leave it to the President's sense of justice whether or not he has been treated in fairness.

Sincerely, TUMULTY.

The President read my note and immediately authorized me to issue the following statement:

The White House, Washington, 4 July, 1920.

When a report was brought to Secretary Tumulty's attention of rumours being circulated in San Francisco that the President had expressed an opinion with reference to a particular candidate, he made the following statement:

"This is news to me. I had discussed all phases of this convention with the President and had been in intimate touch with him during its continuance, and I am positive that he has not expressed an opinion to any one with reference to a particular candidate for the Presidency. It has always been his policy to refrain from taking any stand that might be construed as dictation."

The proceedings of the Convention finally resulted in the nomination of Governor Cox. The President expressed his great pleasure at the nomination for Governor Cox had long been a devoted friend and admirer of his, and he was certain that he would not desert him on the issue so close to his heart—the League of Nations.

When Governor Cox visited the White House and conferred with the President, the Governor assured the President that he intended to stand by him. The President showed deep emotion and expressed his appreciation to Governor Cox. Governor Cox afterward told me that no experience of his life had ever touched him so deeply as that through which he had just passed at the White House. He spoke of the modesty of the President, his simplicity and the great spiritual purpose that lay back of his advocacy of the League of Nations. Turning to me, he said, "No man could talk to President Wilson about the League of Nations and not become a crusader in its behalf." Governor Cox may have entered the White House that day as a politician. He left it as a crusader, ready to fight for the cause.

As the campaign progressed we attempted to induce the President to issue weekly statements from the White House, but after long consideration he concluded that in view of the Republican strategy of trying to make him personally, instead of Governor Cox and the League of Nations, the issue, it would be better tactics for him to remain silent. He broke his silence only once, a week before the election, in a message to the people insisting upon the League of Nations as the paramount issue of the campaign.

It was really touching when one conferred with him to find him so hopeful of the result. Time and time again he would turn to me and say, "I do not care what Republican propaganda may seek to do. I am sure that the hearts of the people are right on this great issue and that we can confidently look forward to triumph."

I did not share his enthusiasm, and yet I did not feel like sending reports to him that were in the least touched with pessimism because of the effect they might have upon his feelings.

Then came the news of Governor Cox's defeat and with it the news of the defeat of the solemn referendum on the League of Nations.

The loneliest place in the country on election night is the White House Office, especially when the tide of opinion throughout the country is running strongly against you. I have noticed the difference in the atmosphere of the place and in the crowds that come to congratulate and to rejoice when you are winning and the few loyal ones that remain with you throughout the night of defeat. It takes a stout heart to withstand the atmosphere of the White House on election night.

The first reports from the country were overwhelming, and there was no spot in the country where we could look for hope and consolation. In the early hours of the evening I sent whatever few optimistic reports I could get to the President, so that at least he would not feel the full weight of the blow on election night. His intimate friends had told me that they feared the effect of defeat upon his health; but these fears were groundless and never disturbed me in the least, for I had been with him in many a fight and I was sure that while he would feel the defeat deeply and that it would go to his heart, its effect would only be temporary.

My feeling in this regard was justified for in my talk with him the day after the election no bitterness was evident. He said, "They have disgraced us in the eyes of the world. The people of America have repudiated a fruitful leadership for a barren independence. Of course, I am disappointed by the results of the election for I felt sure that a great programme that sought to bring peace to the world would arouse American idealism, and that the Nation's support would be given to it. It is a difficult thing, however, to lead a nation so variously constituted as ours quickly to accept a programme such as the League of Nations. The enemies of this enterprise cleverly aroused every racial passion and prejudice, and by poisonous propaganda made it appear that the League of Nations was a great Juggernaut which was intended to crush and destroy instead of saving and bringing peace to the world. The people will have to learn now by bitter experience just what they have lost. There will, of course, be a depression in business for the isolation which America covets will mean a loss of prestige which always in the end means a loss of business. The people will soon witness the tragedy of disappointment and then they will turn upon those who made that disappointment possible."

[Illustration:

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON.

20 October 1920.

My Dear Governor:

Of course nothing will be done in the Root matter, according to your suggestion to me of this morning; but I feel it my duty to advise you that nearly all the reports from the men whose judgment and opinion are usually good are to the effect that unless you will intervene and take a more active interest in the campaign, the Administration will be repudiated at the election.

There is a slight drift towards Cox, but unless you take advantage of it and speed it up, there is very little hope.

The President.

* * * * *

The White House, Washington

(Manuscript: Of course I will help. I was under the impression that I was helping. But I will do it at my own time and in my own way. W. W.)

Further light on the Cox campaign.]

When I intimated to him that the Cox defeat might in the long run prove a blessing, he rebuked me at once by saying: "I am not thinking of the partisan side of this thing. It is the country and its future that I am thinking about. We had a chance to gain the leadership of the world. We have lost it, and soon we will be witnessing the tragedy of it all."

After this statement to me with reference to the result of the election, he read to me a letter from his old friend, John Sharp Williams, United States senator from Mississippi, a letter which did much to bolster and hearten him on this, one of the most trying days of his life in the White House. The letter follows:

DEAR MR. PRESIDENT:

God didn't create the world in one act. I never expected that we would win in the United States the first battle in the campaign for a league of nations to keep the peace of the world. Our people were too "set" by our past history and by the apparent voice of the Fathers in an opposite course, a course of isolation. This course was hitherto the best for accomplishing the very purpose we must now accomplish by a seemingly contrary course. We must now begin the war in earnest. We will win it. Never fear, the stars in their courses are fighting with us. The League is on its feet, learning to walk, Senate coteries willy-nilly.

As for the vials of envy and hatred which have been emptied on your head by all the un-American things, aided by demagogues who wanted their votes and got them, abetted by yellow journals, etc., these lines of Byron can console you:

"There were two cats in Kilkenny They fit and fit until of cats there weren't any."

This is almost a prophecy of what will happen now between Borah, Johnson & Co. and Root, Taft & Co., with poor Lodge mewing "peace" when there is no peace—except a larger peace outside their horizon. They have been kept united by hatred of you, by certain foreign encouragements, and by fear of the Democratic party. With the necessity to act, to do something, the smouldering fire of differences will break forth into flame. Conserve your health. Cultivate a cynical patience. Give them all the rope you can. Now and then when they make too big fools of themselves, throw in a keynote veto—not often— never when you can give them the benefit of the doubt and with it responsibility. They have neither the coherence nor the brains to handle the situation. Events will work their further confusion, events in Europe. God still reigns. The people can learn, though not quickly.

With regards, (Signed) JOHN SHARP WILLIAMS.

One would think that after the election the President would show a slackening of interest in the affairs of the nation; that having been repudiated by a solemn referendum, he would grow indifferent and listless to the administrative affairs that came to his desk. On the contrary, so far as his interest in affairs was concerned, one coming in contact with him from day to day after the election until the very night of March 3rd would get the impression that nothing unusual had happened and that his term of office was to run on indefinitely.

One of the things to which he paid particular attention at this time was the matter of the pardon of Eugene V. Debs. The day that the recommendation for pardon arrived at the White House, he looked it over and examined it carefully, and said: "I will never consent to the pardon of this man. I know that in certain quarters of the country there is a popular demand for the pardon of Debs, but it shall never be accomplished with my consent. Were I to consent to it, I should never be able to look into the faces of the mothers of this country who sent their boys to the other side. While the flower of American youth was pouring out its blood to vindicate the cause of civilization, this man, Debs, stood behind the lines, sniping, attacking, and denouncing them. Before the war he had a perfect right to exercise his freedom of speech and to express his own opinion, but once the Congress of the United States declared war, silence on his part would have been the proper course to pursue. I know there will be a great deal of denunciation of me for refusing this pardon. They will say I am cold-blooded and indifferent, but it will make no impression on me. This man was a traitor to his country and he will never be pardoned during my administration."



CHAPTER XLVI

THE LAST DAY

I was greatly concerned lest the President should be unable by reason of his physical condition to stand the strain of Inauguration Day. Indeed, members of his Cabinet and intimate friends like Grayson and myself had tried to persuade him not to take part, but he could not by any argument be drawn away from what he believed to be his duty—to join in the inauguration of his successor, President-elect Harding. The thought that the people of the country might misconstrue his attitude if he should remain away and his firm resolve to show every courtesy to his successor in office were the only considerations that led him to play his part to the end. When I arrived at the White House early on the morning of the 4th of March, the day of the inauguration, I found him in his study, smiling and gracious as ever. He acted like a boy who was soon to be out of school and free of the burdens that had for eight years weighed him down to the breaking point. He expressed to me the feeling of relief that he was experiencing now that his term of office was really at an end. I recalled to him the little talk we had had on the same day, four years before, upon the conclusion of the ceremonies incident to his own inauguration in 1917. At the time we were seated in the Executive office. Turning away from his desk and gazing out of the window which overlooked the beautiful White House lawn and gardens, he said: "Well, how I wish this were March 4, 1921. What a relief it will be to do what I please and to say what I please; but more than that, to write my own impressions of the things that have been going on under my own eyes. I have felt constantly a personal detachment from the Presidency. The one thing I resent when I am not performing the duties of the office is being reminded that I am President of the United States. I feel toward this office as a man feels toward a great function which in his working hours he is obliged to perform but which, out of working hours, he is glad to get away from and resume the quiet course of his own thought. I tell you, my friend, it will be great to be free again."

On this morning, March 4, 1921, he acted like a man who was happy now that his dearest wish was to be realized. As I looked at Woodrow Wilson, seated in his study that morning, in his cutaway coat, awaiting word of the arrival of President-elect Harding at the White House, to me he was every inch the President, quiet, dignified; ready to meet the duties of the trying day upon which he was now to enter, in his countenance a calm nobility. It was hard for me to realize as I beheld him, seated behind his desk in his study, that here was the head of the greatest nation in the world who in a few hours was to step back into the uneventful life of a private citizen.

A few minutes and he was notified that the President-elect was in the Blue Room awaiting his arrival. Alone, unaided, grasping his old blackthorn stick, the faithful companion of many months, his "third leg," as he playfully called it, slowly he made his way to the elevator and in a few seconds he was standing in the Blue Room meeting the President-elect and greeting him in the most gracious way. No evidence of the trial of pain he was undergoing in striving to play a modest part in the ceremonies was apparent either in his bearing or attitude, as he greeted the President- elect and the members of the Congressional Inaugural Committee. He was an ill man but a sportsman, determined to see the thing through to the end. President-elect Harding met him in the most kindly fashion, showing him the keenest consideration and courtesy.

And now the final trip to the Capitol from the White House. The ride to the Capitol was uneventful. From the physical appearance of the two men seated beside each other in the automobile, it was plain to the casual observer who was the out-going and who the in-coming President. In the right sat President Wilson, gray, haggard, broken. He interpreted the cheering from the crowds that lined the Avenue as belonging to the President-elect and looked straight ahead. It was Mr. Harding's day, not his. On the left, Warren Gamaliel Harding, the rising star of the Republic, healthy, vigorous, great-chested, showing every evidence in his tanned face of that fine, sturdy health so necessary a possession in order to grapple with the problems of his country. One, the man on the right, a battle-scarred veteran, a casualty of the war, now weary and anxious to lay down the reins of office; the other, agile, vigorous, hopeful, and full of enthusiasm for the tasks that confronted him. Upon the face of the one were written in indelible lines the scars and tragedies of war; on that of the other, the lines of confidence, hope, and readiness for the fray.

The Presidential party arrived at the Capitol. Woodrow Wilson took possession of the President's room. Modestly the President-elect took a seat in the rear of the room while President Wilson conferred with senators and representatives who came to talk with him about bills in which they were interested, bills upon which he must act before the old clock standing in a corner of the room should strike the hour of twelve, noon, marking the end of the official relationship of Woodrow Wilson with the affairs of the Government of the United States. It was about eleven- thirty. Senators and congressmen of both parties poured into the office to say good-bye to the man seated at the table, and then made their way over to congratulate the President-elect.

It was a few minutes before twelve o'clock. The weary man at the table was still the President, still the ruler of a great people, the possessor for a little while longer, just a little while longer, of more power than any king in Christendom.

Presently there appeared at the door a gray-haired man of imperious manner. Addressing the President in a sharp, dry tone of voice, he said: "Mr. President, we have come as a committee of the Senate to notify you that the Senate and House are about to adjourn and await your pleasure." The spokesman for the committee was Henry Cabot Lodge, the distinguished senator from Massachusetts, the implacable political foe of the man he was addressing.

It was an interesting study to watch the face and manner of Woodrow Wilson as he met the gaze of Senator Lodge who by his attacks had destroyed the great thing of which the President had dreamed, the thing for which he had fought and for which he was ready to lay down his life. It appeared for a second as if Woodrow Wilson was about to give full sway to the passionate resentment he felt toward the man who, he believed, had unfairly treated him throughout the famous Treaty fight. But quickly the shadow of resentment passed. A ghost of a smile flitted across his firm mouth, and steadying himself in his chair, he said in a low voice: "Senator Lodge, I have no further communication to make. I thank you. Good morning."

Senator Lodge and the committee withdrew from the room. I looked at the clock in the corner. A few minutes more and all the power which the weary man at the table possessed would fall from his shoulders. All left the room except the President, Mrs. Wilson, Admiral Grayson, and myself.

The old clock in the corner of the room began to toll the hour of twelve. Mechanically I counted, under my breath, the strokes: "One, two, three," on through "twelve," and the silent room echoed with the low vibration of the last stroke.

Woodrow Wilson was no longer President. By the votes of the American people he had been returned to the ranks of his fellow countrymen. A great warrior had passed from the field, a leading actor had made his exit. The dearest wish of his political enemies had at last been realized. The prayers of his devoted friends that he would live to see the eight years of his administration through, had been answered. His own bearing and attitude did not indicate that anything unusual had happened.

Quickly Woodrow Wilson, now the private citizen, turned to make his way to the elevator, leaning on his cane, the ferrule striking sharply on the stone pavement as he walked; but his spirit was indomitable. A few minutes before all interest had been centred upon him. Now but a few loyal friends remained behind. Interest was transferred to the scene being enacted a few feet away in the Senate Chamber, the induction into office of Vice- President Coolidge. By the time we reached the elevator, the brief ceremony in the Senate Chamber had ended, and the multitude outside were cheering Mr. Harding as he appeared at the east front of the Capitol to deliver his inaugural address. We heard the United States Marine Band playing "Hail to the Chief." For a few seconds I looked toward the reviewing stand. The new President, Warren G. Harding, was taking his place on the stand amid the din and roar of applause. He was the focus of all eyes, the pivot around which all interest turned. Not one of the thousands turned to look at the lonely figure laboriously climbing into the automobile. The words of Ibsen flashed into my mind:

The strongest man in the world is he who stands most alone.

THE END



APPENDIX "A"

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 10 December, 1918.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris, France.

Stories that you have agreed to sinking of German ships have caused great deal of unfavourable comment here.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 16 December, 1918.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, C/O American Embassy, Paris, France.

Most popular note in this country in your speech are the words Quote We must rebuke acts of terror and spoliation and make men everywhere aware that they cannot be ventured upon without certainty of just punishment End Quote.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 21 December, 1918.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris.

If it is America's intention to back up the Allies in sinking German ships, the idea is so vague in this country that there ought to be a great deal of elucidation if the President intends to take this stand. Hope the President will be more definite than he has been in speeches in reference to League of Nations and freedom of the seas. His enemies here and abroad hope that he will particularize so that they can attack him. People of the world are with him on general principles. They care little for details.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 22 December, 1918.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, American Embassy, Paris.

Springfield Republican editorially gives expression to fear that President may be made captive by Allied Imperialism and says Quote The conditions and atmosphere which now envelop him may be calculated to fill his mind with doubts as to the wisdom of his previous views and to expose him to the peril of vacillation, compromise, and virtual surrender of vital principles End Quote. Country deeply pleased by impression Mrs. Wilson has made abroad.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 24 December, 1918

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Care Of American Embassy, Paris, France.

Stories appearing here stating in effect that you intend to appeal to people of Europe bound to do great deal of harm. My affectionate Christmas Greetings to Mrs. Wilson and you.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 31 December, 1918.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris, France.

Clemenceau's speech, wherein he advocated a world settlement based upon the old balance of power ideas, demonstrates necessity for and wisdom of your trip, and has set stage for final issue between balance of power and League of Nations. If America fails now, socialism rules the world and if international fair-play under democracy cannot curb nationalistic ambitions, there is nothing left but socialism upon which Russia and Germany have already embarked. You can do nothing more serviceable than without seeming to disagree with Clemenceau, drive home in your speeches differences between two ideals, one, the balance of power means continuance of war; other, concert of nations means universal peace. One has meant great standing armies with larger armaments and burdensome taxation, consequent unrest and bolshevism. If the statesmanship at Versailles cannot settle these things in the spirit of justice, bolshevism will settle them in a spirit of injustice. The world is ready for the issue. Clemenceau has given you great chance; this country and whole world will sustain you. Country ready to back you up when you ask for its support. Everything fine here.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 6 January, 1919.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris.

Hope you will consider the suggestion for your return trip. Your personal contact with peoples of Europe has done much to help your programme. Our people will be with your programme, but it (the programme) must be personally conducted. If you return here without reception or ovation, public opinion on other side liable to misunderstand. The time of your return (in my opinion) is the hour for you to strike in favour of League of Nations. Lodge and leading Republicans constantly attacking, excepting Taft, who is daily warning them of political dangers of their opposition to your programme. Could you not consider stopping upon your return at Port of Boston instead of New York. The announcement of your stopping at Boston would make ovation inevitable throughout New England and would centre attack on Lodge. You have not been to New England in six years. It would be a gracious act and would help much. It would strengthen League of Nations movement in House and Senate and encourage our friends in Senate and House and throughout country. Our people just as emotional as people of Europe. If you return without reception, Lodge and others will construe it as weakness. If the people of our country could have seen you as people of Europe, our situation would be much improved, especially result of last November would have been different. My suggestion would be speech at Faneuil Hall, Boston; speech in Providence, New Haven, New York and reception upon return to Washington, to be participated in by returning soldiers.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 6 January, 1919.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris.

The attitude of the whole country toward trip has changed. Feeling universal that you have carried yourself magnificently through critical situations, with prestige and influence greatly enhanced here and abroad. The criticisms of the cloak-room statesmen have lost their force. I realize difficulties still to be met, but have no doubt of result. Trip admitted here by everybody to be wonderful success. Last week with perils of visit to Vatican most critical. The whole psychology favours the success of your trip. The peoples of Europe and the United States with you for League of Nations and against settlements based upon balance of power. Opinion here is that cards are stacked against you. My own opinion your influence so great in Europe that European leaders cannot stand in your way. Now is the critical moment and there must be no wasting away of your influence in unnecessary delay of conference. Hearts of the peoples of the world for League of Nations and they are indifferent to its actual terms. They are against militarism and for any reasonable plan to effectuate peace.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 13 January 1919.

THE PRESIDENT, Paris.

In past two weeks the trend of newspaper dispatches from Paris has indicated a misunderstanding of your general attitude towards problems pending at peace conference. One newspaper cablegram says today that France, Italy and Great Britain have agreed to subordinate your league of nations programme to the need for counteracting bolshevism and collecting damages from Germany. Another a few days ago reported that Clemenceau had made headway with his insistence upon maintenance of balance of power. Still another outlined victory of Great Britain in her opposition to freedom of seas, stating that you had abandoned your position in response to arguments of France, supporting Great Britain. Similar stories would give impression that you were yielding, although we are aware that some of the suggestions for compromise are probably your own. Situation could easily be remedied if you would occasionally call in the three press association correspondents who crossed on George Washington with you, merely giving them an understanding of the developments as they occur and asking them not to use information as coming from you, but merely for their own guidance. It would show wisdom of various compromises as well as circumstances of such compromises. Proposal of Lloyd George that the Russian Bolshevik be invited to send peace delegates to Paris produced very unfavourable impression everywhere. It is denounced here as amazing.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 16 January 1919.

REAR ADMIRAL CARY T. GRAYSON, Care of President Wilson, Paris.

American newspapers filled with stories this morning of critical character about rule of secrecy adopted for Peace Conference, claiming that the first of the fourteen points has been violated. In my opinion, if President has consented to this, it will be fatal. The matter is so important to the people of the world that he could have afforded to go any length even to leaving the conference than to submit to this ruling. His attitude in this matter will lose a great deal of the confidence and support of the people of the world which he has had up to this time.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, January 16, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

Your cable about misunderstandings concerning my attitude toward problems created by the newspaper cablegrams concerns a matter which I admit I do not know how to handle. Every one of the things you mention is a fable. I have not only yielded nothing but have been asked to yield nothing. These manoeuvres which the cablegram speaks of are purely imaginary. I cannot check them from this end because the men who sent them insist on having something to talk about whether they know what the facts are or not. I will do my best with the three press associations.

WOODROW WILSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, January 17, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

Distressed to hear of your illness. Beg that you will make it your chief duty to take care of yourself and get well. All unite in most affectionate messages. Everything going well here. Very few of the troubles spoken of by the newspapers are visible to me on the spot.

WOODROW WILSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, January 21, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

The issue of publicity is being obscured by the newspaper men and we have won for the press all that is possible or wise to win, namely, complete publicity for real conferences. Publicity for the conversations I am holding with the small group of the great powers will invariably break up the whole thing, whereas the prospects for agreement are now, I should say, very good indeed. Delighted that you are up and beg that you will not expose yourself or exert yourself too soon. Affectionate messages from us all.

WOODROW WILSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 29 January, 1919.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris.

Notice in morning papers discussion with reference to disposition of German colonies. Call your attention to speech of British Premier delivered in January as follows: Quote with regard to German colonies, I have repeatedly declared that they are held at the disposal of a conference whose decision must have primary regard to the wishes of the native inhabitants. The general principle of national self-determination therefore is applicable in their cases as in those of the occupied European territories End quote. I believe that Balfour made a similar statement.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, March 15, 1919.

President's Residence, Paris TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

The Plenary Council has positively decided that the League of Nations is to be part of the Peace Treaty. There is absolutely no truth in report to the contrary.

WOODROW WILSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 16 March 1919.

PRESIDENT WILSON, Paris.

Believe your most critical time in setting forward America's position at conference has come. Opposition to League growing more intense from day to day. Its bitterness and pettiness producing reaction. New polls throughout country indicate strong drift toward league. League of Nations and just peace inseparable. Neither half can stand alone. Know you will not be drawn away from announced programme to incorporate League covenant in treaty. You can afford to go any length in insisting upon this. There is no doubt of your success here and abroad. The real friends of a constructive peace have not begun to fight. Everything fine here.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 25 March, 1919.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris.

There is great danger to you in the present situation. I can see signs that our enemies here and abroad would try to make it appear that you are responsible for delay in peace settlement and that delay has increased momentum of bolshevism and anarchy in Hungary and Balkans. Can responsibility for delay be fixed by you in some way?

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cable From the Associated Press at Paris.

Paris, March 27, 1919.

President Wilson to-day issued the following statement:

Quote in view of the very surprising impression which seems to exist in some quarters, that it is the discussions of the commission on the league of nations that are delaying the final formulation of peace, I am very glad to take the opportunity of reporting that the conclusions of this commission were the first to be laid before the plenary conference.

They were reported on February 14, and the world has had a full month in which to discuss every feature of the draft covenant then submitted.

During the last few days the commission has been engaged in an effort to take advantage of the criticisms which the publication of the covenant has fortunately drawn out. A committee of the commission has also had the advantage of a conference with representatives of the neutral states, who are evidencing a very deep interest and a practically unanimous desire to align themselves with the league.

The revised covenant is now practically finished. It is in the hands of a committee for the final process of drafting, and will almost immediately be presented a second time to the public.

The conferences of the commission have invariably been held at times when they could not interfere with the consultation of those who have undertaken to formulate the general conclusions of the conference with regard to the many other complicated problems of peace, so that the members of the commissions congratulate themselves on the fact that no part of their conferences has ever interposed any form of delay End quote.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 25 March, 1919.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Paris.

St. Louis Republic of Saturday reporting speech of Senator Reed referring to provision naming members of League says: Quote he told of what he called a secret protocol and intimated that Germany is included in this secret protocol End quote. Advise whether or not there is any secret protocol such as Senator claims or of any character, attached to League Covenant.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, March 27, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

Statement that there is any sort of secret protocol connected with or suggested in connection with the League of Nations is absolutely false.

WOODROW WILSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, March 28, 1919.

PRESIDENT WILSON, Paris.

Stories here this morning that amendment for Monroe Doctrine and racial discrimination to be excluded from covenant causing a great deal of uneasiness.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, March 30, 1919.

PRESIDENT WILSON, Paris.

In an editorial entitled Treat or Fight, Springfield Republican says: Quote It is plain that the Allies dare not commit themselves to an avowed war on the soviets and that it is not possible for the Allies with the world in its present temper to take the position that the existence of the soviet form of government in any country constitutes a casus belli; that the world would recoil from the proposal to begin a new series of war with so dubious an object; that Russia should be left to manage her own affairs End Quote. Editorial disagreed with policy of French Government towards Russia and soviets. Calls attention to disastrous results of foreign intervention during French Revolution, Editorial further says: Quote Impossible to fight revolution in one place and be at peace elsewhere. If Allies mean to fight Hungary because it has set up a soviet form of government and allied itself to Russia they will have to fight Russia. If they fight Russia they will have to fight the Ukraine. Such a war would mean the end of the League of Nations. It is plain that the Allies dare not commit themselves to an avowed war on the Soviets End Quote.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, March 30, 1919.

PRESIDENT WILSON, Paris.

Dispatches from Simonds and others prove stories of weeks ago were most optimistic now touched with deep pessimism. Simonds in article on Saturday says: Quote No common objective in council; no dominating influence; drifting, etc. End Quote. I fear your real position in council not understood here and that lack of publicity strengthening many false impressions. The responsibility attaching to those associated with you, including France and England, when they accepted Fourteen Points evidently lost sight of by them. Do not know what your real situation is, but it appears to me that Germany is not prepared to accept the kind of peace which is about to be offered, or if she does accept, with its burdensome conditions, it means the spread of bolshevism throughout Germany and central Europe. It seems to me that you ought in some way to reassert your leadership publicly. I know the danger, but you cannot escape responsibility unless you do so. Now is the moment in my opinion to strike for a settlement permanent and lasting.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 2 April, 1919.

PRESIDENT WILSON, Paris.

The proposed recognition of Lenine has caused consternation here.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 4, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

Am still confident that President will win. Encountering difficulties; situation serious. President is the hope of the world more than ever, and with his courage, wisdom, and force he will lead the way. Have you any suggestions as to publicity or otherwise?

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 4, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

The President took very severe cold last night; confined to bed. Do not worry; will keep you advised.

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 5, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

We are naturally disappointed at progress being made but not discouraged. Hopeful everything will turn out all right. Will advise you if anything definite develops. The President is better this morning but confined to bed. No cause for worry.

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 5, 1919.

GRAYSON, % President Wilson, Paris.

In my opinion the President must in some dramatic way clear the air of doubts and misunderstandings and despair which now pervade the whole world situation. He must take hold of the situation with both hands and shake it out of its present indecision, or political sabotage and scheming will triumph. Only a bold stroke by the President will save Europe and perhaps the world. That stroke must be made regardless of the cries and admonitions of his friendly advisers. He has tried to settle the issue in secret; only publicity of a dramatic kind now can save the situation. This occasion calls for that audacity which has helped him win in every fight.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 6, 1919.

TUMULTY, Washington.

The President says the situation here is extremely complex and intricate, but seems to be improving and he expects to have it in hand this week, but if necessary will act according to your suggestions. The President is confined to bed but steadily improving. Thanks for your telegram.

Grayson.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 8, 1919.

TUMULTY, Washington.

President attended conference in his study this afternoon. Situation shows some improvement. President has ordered George Washington to proceed here immediately.

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, April 9,1919.

GRAYSON, Care President Wilson, Paris.

The ordering of the George Washington to return to France looked upon here as an act of impatience and petulance on the President's part and not accepted here in good grace by either friends or foes. It is considered as an evidence that the President intends to leave the Conference if his views are not accepted. I think this method of withdrawal most unwise and fraught with the most dangerous possibilities here and abroad, because it puts upon the President the responsibility of withdrawing when the President should by his own act place the responsibility for a break of the Conference where it properly belongs. The President should not put himself in the position of being the first to withdraw if his 14 points are not accepted. Either he should put himself in the position of being the one who remained at the Conference until the very last, demanding the acceptance of his 14 principles. Nothing should be said about his leaving France, but he ought when the time and occasion arrive to re-state his views in terms of the deepest solemnity and yet without any ultimatum attached and then await a response from his associates. In other words, let him by his acts and words place his associates in the position of those who refuse to continue the Conference because of their unwillingness to live up to the terms of the Armistice. Then the President can return to this country and justify his withdrawal. He cannot justify his withdrawal any other way. Up to this time the world has been living on stories coming out of Paris that there was to be an agreement on the League of Nations. Suddenly out of a clear sky comes an order for the George Washington and unofficial statements of the President's withdrawal. A withdrawal at this time would be a desertion.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram

The White House, Washington, 9 April, 1919.

PRESIDENT WILSON, Paris.

A great number of your friends here fear that the interposition of United States in matter of indemnity and reparation which is a paramount question with European nations and only of indirect interest to us will solidify the opposition of England, France, Italy, and Belgium to a league of nations. Our friends believe that any necessary sacrifices to assure a league of nations should be made. Your supporters would be happy if you could throw upon the other nations the burden of exacting indemnities and at the same time win their support to a league of nations.

TUMULTY.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, 10 April, 1919.

TUMULTY, Washington.

President made good progress to-day by hammering ahead with his own force. His health is improving; out for a short drive this afternoon; first outing since last Thursday.

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 10, 1919.

TUMULTY, White House, Washington.

Have shown your message to the President. From your side of the water your points are well taken, but he has formed his ideas through immediate contact with actual conditions on this side of the world.... More progress has been made in the last two days than has been made for the last two weeks. Am spending all the time I can in guiding correspondents and showing them every attention. I confer with Grasty every day. The President is working too hard following his recent illness. To know that things are going on and not properly handled, and yet be responsible for them, causes him more worry and anxiety and does more harm than actual participation. This is a matter that worries me. If his health ca hold out I am still confident he will win handsomely. Am keeping as cheerful a front as possible over here.

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 12, 1919.

TUMULTY, Washington.

So far as it is possible to tell amidst complexity of selfish interests things seem to be slowly clearing. President sends you his love and says keep stiff upper lip.

GRAYSON.

* * * * *

Cablegram—Paris.

Received at White House, Washington, April 24, 1919.