as a masterpiece in reconciling statesmanship with practical politics,
and his energetic attitude on the Panama Tolls had introduced new
standards into American foreign relations. Page could not sympathize
with all the details of the Wilsonian Mexican policy, yet he saw in it a
high-minded purpose and a genuine humanitarianism. But the outbreak of
war presented new aspects of Mr. Wilson's mind. The President's attitude
toward the European struggle, his conception of "neutrality," and his
failure to grasp the meaning of the conflict, seemed to Page to show a
lack of fundamental statesmanship; still his faith in Wilson was
deep-seated, and he did not abandon hope that the President could be
brought to see things as they really were. Page even believed that he
might be instrumental in his conversion.

But in the summer and autumn of 1915 one agony followed another. The
"too proud to fight" speech was in Page's mind nothing less than a
tragedy. The president's first _Lusitania_ note for a time restored the
Ambassador's confidence; it seemed to show that the President intended
to hold Germany to that "strict accountability" which he had threatened.
But Mr. Wilson's course now presented new difficulties to his
Ambassador. Still Page believed that the President, in his own way and
in his own time, would find a path out of his dilemma that would protect
the honour and the safety of the United States. If any of the Embassy
subordinates became impatient over the procedure of Washington, he did
not find a sympathetic listener in the Ambassador. The whole of London
and of Europe might be resounding with denunciations of the White House,
but Page would tolerate no manifestations of hostility in his presence.
"The problem appears different to Washington than it does to us," he
would say to his confidants. "We see only one side of it; the President
sees all sides. If we give him all the facts, he will decide the thing
wisely." Englishmen with whom the Ambassador came into contact soon
learned that they could not become flippant or critical about Mr. Wilson
in his presence; he would resent the slightest hostile remark, and he
had a way of phrasing his rebukes that usually discouraged a second
attempt. About this time Page began to keep closely to himself, and to
decline invitations to dinners and to country houses, even those with
which he was most friendly. The reason was that he could not meet
Englishmen and Englishwomen, or even Americans who were resident in
England, on his old easy familiar terms; he knew the ideas which
everybody entertained about his country, and he knew also what they were
saying, when he was not among them; the restraint which his presence
necessarily put upon his friends produced an uncongenial atmosphere, and
the Ambassador therefore gave up, for a time, those distractions which
had ordinarily proved such a delightful relief from his duties. For the
first time since he had come to England he found himself a solitary man.
He even refused to attend the American Luncheon Club in London because,
in speeches and in conversation, the members did not hesitate to assail
the Wilson policies.

Events, however, eventually proved too strong for the most devoted
supporter of President Wilson. After the _Arabic_ and the _Hesperian_,
Page's official intimates saw signs that the Ambassador was losing
confidence in his old friend. He would discuss Mr. Wilson occasionally,
with those secretaries, such as Mr. Laughlin, in whom his confidence was
strongest; his expressions, however, were never flippant or violent.
That Page could be biting as well as brilliant in his comments on public
personages his letters abundantly reveal, yet he never exercised his
talent for sarcasm or invective at the expense of the White House. He
never forgot that Mr. Wilson was President and that he was Ambassador;
he would still defend the Administration; and he even now continued to
find consolation in the reflection that Mr. Wilson was living in a
different atmosphere and that he had difficulties to confront of which a
man in London could know nothing. The Ambassador's emotion was rather
one of disappointment and sorrow, mingled with anxiety as to the plight
into which his country was being led. As to his duty in this situation,
however, Page never hesitated. In his relations with his Embassy and
with the British world he maintained this non-critical attitude; but in
his letters to President Wilson and Colonel House, he was describing the
situation, and expressing his convictions, with the utmost freedom and
frankness. In both these attitudes Page was consistent and absolutely
loyal. It was his duty to carry out the Wilson instructions and he had
too high a conception of the Ambassadorial office to show to the world
any unfavourable opinions he may have held about his country's course.
His duty to his post made it just as imperative that he set forth to the
President the facts exactly as they were. And this the Ambassador now
proceeded to do. For the mere ornamental dignities of an Ambassadorship
Page cared nothing; he was wasting his health in his duties and
exhausting his private resources; much as he loved the English and
congenial as were his surroundings, the fear of being recalled for
"disloyalty" or insubordination never influenced him. The letters which
he now wrote to Colonel House and to President Wilson himself are
probably without parallel in the diplomatic annals of this or of any
other country. In them he told the President precisely what Englishmen
thought of him and of the extent to which the United States was
suffering in European estimation from the Wilson policy. His boldness
sometimes astounded his associates. One day a friend and adviser of
President Wilson's came into the Ambassador's office just as Page had
finished one of his communications to Washington.

"Read that!" the Ambassador said, handing over the manuscript to his
visitor.

As the caller read, his countenance displayed the progressive stages of
his amazement. When he had finished, his hands dropped helplessly upon
his knees.

"Is that the way you write to the President?" he gasped.

"Of course," Page replied, quietly. "Why not? Why shouldn't I tell him
the truth? That is what I am here for."

"There is no other person in the world who dare talk to him like that!"
was the reply.

This is unquestionably the fact. That President Wilson did not like
people about him whose views were opposed to his own is now no secret,
and during the period when his policy was one of the great issues of the
world there was probably no one except Page who intruded upon his
solitude with ideas that so abruptly disagreed with the opinions of the
White House. The letters which Page wrote Colonel House were intended,
of course, for the President himself, and practically all of them
Colonel House read aloud to the head of the nation. The two men would
closet themselves in the old cabinet room on the second floor of the
White House--that same room in which Lincoln had met his advisers during
Civil War days; and here Colonel House would quietly read the letters in
which Page so mercilessly portrayed the situation as it appeared in
English and European eyes. The President listened impassively, giving no
sign of approval or disapproval, and hardly, at times, of much interest.
In the earlier days, when Page's letters consisted of pictures of
English life and English men, and colourful descriptions of England
under the stress of war, the President was vastly entertained; he would
laugh loudly at Page's wit, express his delight at his graphic and
pungent style and feel deeply the horrors of war as his Ambassador
unfolded them. "I always found Page compelling on paper," Mr. Wilson
remarked to Mr. Laughlin, during one of the latter's visits to
Washington. "I could never resist him--I get more information from his
letters than from any other single source. Tell him to keep it up." It
was during this period that the President used occasionally to read
Page's letters to the Cabinet, expressing his great appreciation of
their charm and historical importance. "The President quoted from one of
the Ambassador's letters to the Cabinet to-day," a member of the Cabinet
wrote to Mrs. Page in February, 1915. "'Some day,' the President said,
'I hope that Walter Page's letters will be published. They are the best
letters I have ever read. They make you feel the atmosphere in England,
understand the people, and see into the motives of the great actors.'"
The President repeated this statement many times, and his letters to
Page show how greatly he enjoyed and profited from this correspondence.
But after the sinking of the _Lusitania_ and the _Arabic_ his attitude
toward Page and his letters changed.

He now found little pleasure or satisfaction in the Page communications.
When Mr. Wilson found that one of his former confidants had turned out
to be a critic, that man instantaneously passed out of his life. And
this was now Page's fate; the friendship and associations of forty years
were as though they had never been. Just why Mr. Wilson did not recall
his Ambassador is a question that has puzzled Page's friends. He would
sometimes refer to him as a man who was "more British than the British,"
as one who had been taken completely captive by British blandishments,
but he never came to the point of dismissing him. Perhaps he did not
care to face the public scandal that such an act would have caused; but
a more plausible reason is that Page, despite the causes which he had
given for irritation, was indispensable to him. Page's early letters had
furnished the President ideas which had taken shape in Wilson's
policies, and, disagreeable as the communications now became, there are
evidences that they influenced the solitary statesman in the White
House, and that they had much to do in finally forcing Mr. Wilson into
the war. The alternative question, as to why Page did not retire when he
found himself so out of sympathy with the President, will be
sufficiently answered in subsequent chapters; at present it may be said
that he did resign and only consented to remain at the urgent request of
Washington. In fact, all during 1915 and 1916, there seemed to be a fear
in Washington that Page would definitely abandon the London post. On one
occasion, when the newspapers published rumours to this effect, Page
received an urgent despatch from Mr. Lansing. The message came at a
time--the date was October 26, 1915--when Page was especially
discouraged over the Washington policy. "Representatives of the press,"
said Mr. Lansing, "have repeated rumours that you are planning to
resign. These have been brought to the President's attention, and both
he and I have denied them. Still these rumours persist, and they cause
both the President and me great anxiety. We cannot believe that they are
well founded.

"In view of the fact that they are so persistent, we have thought it
well to inform you of them and to tell you how earnestly we hope that
they are baseless. We trust that you will set both our minds at rest."

If Page had ever had any compunction about addressing the President in
blunt phrases these expressions certainly convinced him that he was a
free agent.

Yet Page himself at times had his doubts as to the value of this
correspondence. He would frequently discuss the matter with Mr.
Laughlin. "That's a pretty harsh letter," he would say. "I don't like to
talk that way to the President, yet it doesn't express half what I
feel."

"It's your duty to tell the President the real state of affairs," Mr.
Laughlin would urge.

"But do you suppose it does any good?" Page would ask.

"Yes, it's bound to, and whether it does or not, it's your business to
keep him informed."

If in these letters Page seems to lay great stress on the judgment of
Great Britain and Europe on American policy, it must be remembered that
that was his particular province. One of an Ambassador's most important
duties is to transmit to his country the public opinion of the country
to which he is accredited. It was Page's place to tell Washington what
Great Britain thought of it; it was Washington's business to formulate
policy, after giving due consideration to this and other matters.

_To Edward M. House_

July 21, 1915.

DEAR HOUSE:

I enclose a pamphlet in ridicule of the President. I don't know who
wrote it, for my inquiries so far have brought no real information.
I don't feel like sending it to him. I send it to you--to do with
as you think best. This thing alone is, of course, of no
consequence. But it is symptomatic. There is much feeling about the
slowness with which he acts. One hundred and twenty people
(Americans) were drowned on the _Lusitania_ and we are still
writing notes about it--to the damnedest pirates that ever blew up
a ship. Anybody who knows the Germans knows, of course, that they
are simply playing for time, that they are not going to "come
down," that Von Tirpitz is on deck, that they'd just as lief have
war with us as not--perhaps had rather--because they don't want any
large nation left fresh when the war ends. They'd like to have the
whole world bankrupt. There is a fast growing feeling here,
therefore, that the American Government is pusillanimous--dallies
with 'em, is affected by the German propaganda, etc., etc. Of
course, such a judgment is not fair. It is formed without knowing
the conditions in the United States. But I think you ought to
realize the strength of this sentiment. No doubt before you receive
this, the President will send something to Germany that will amount
to an ultimatum and there will be at least a momentary change of
sentiment here. But looking at the thing in a long-range way, we're
bound to get into the war. For the Germans will blow up more
American travellers without notice. And by dallying with them we do
not change the ultimate result, but we take away from ourselves the
spunk and credit of getting in instead of being kicked and cursed
in. We've got to get in: they won't play the game in any other way.
I have news direct from a high German source in Berlin which
strongly confirms this....

It's a curious thing to say. But the only solution that I see is
another _Lusitania_ outrage, which would force war.

W.H.P.

P.S. The London papers every day say that the President will send a
strong note, etc. And the people here say, "Damn notes: hasn't he
written enough?" Writing notes hurts nobody--changes nothing. The
Washington correspondents to the London papers say that Burleson,
the Attorney-General, and Daniels are Bryan men and are holding the
President back.

*       *       *       *       *

The prophecy contained in this letter was quickly fulfilled. A week or
two after Colonel House had received it, the _Arabic_ was sunk with loss
of American life.

Page was taking a brief holiday with his son Frank in Rowsley,
Derbyshire, when this news came. It was telegraphed from the Embassy.

"That settles it," he said to his son. "They have sunk the _Arabic_.
That means that we shall break with Germany and I've got to go back to
London."

_To Edward M. House_

American Embassy, London, August 23, 1915.

DEAR HOUSE:

The sinking of the _Arabic_ is the answer to the President and to
your letter to me. And there'll be more such answers. You said to
me one day after you had got back from your last visit to Berlin:
"They are impossible." I think you told the truth, and surely you
know your German and you know your Berlin--or you did know them
when you were here.

The question is not what we have done for the Allies, not what any
other neutral country has done or has failed to do--such
comparisons, I think, are far from the point. The question is when
the right moment arrives for us to save our self-respect, our
honour, and the esteem and fear (or the contempt) in which the
world will hold us.

Berlin has the Napoleonic disease. If you follow Napoleon's
career--his excuses, his evasions, his inventions, the wild French
enthusiasm and how he kept it up--you will find an exact parallel.
That becomes plainer every day. Europe may not be wholly at peace
in five years--may be ten.

Hastily and heartily,
W.H.P.

I have your note about Willum J.... Crank once, crank always. My
son, never tie up with a crank.

W.H.P.


_To Edward M. House_

London, September 2nd, 1915.

DEAR HOUSE:

You write me about pleasing the Allies, the big Ally in particular.
That doesn't particularly appeal to me. We don't owe them
anything. There's no obligation. I'd never confess for a moment
that we are under any obligation to any of them nor to anybody. I'm
not out to "please" anybody, as a primary purpose: that's not my
game nor my idea--nor yours either. As for England in particular,
the account was squared when she twice sent an army against us--in
her folly--especially the last time when she burnt our Capitol.
There's been no obligation since. The obligation is on the other
foot. We've set her an example of what democracy will do for men,
an example of efficiency, an example of freedom of opportunity. The
future is ours, and she may follow us and profit by it. Already we
have three white English-speaking men to every two in the British
Empire: we are sixty per cent. of the Anglo-Saxons in the world. If
there be any obligation to please, the obligation is on her to
please us. And she feels and sees it now.

My point is not that, nor is it what we or any other neutral nation
has done or may do--Holland or any other. This war is the direct
result of the over-polite, diplomatic, standing-aloof,
bowing-to-one-another in gold lace, which all European nations are
guilty of in times of peace--castes and classes and uniforms and
orders and such folderol, instead of the proper business of the
day. Every nation in Europe knew that Germany was preparing for
war. If they had really got together--not mere Hague Sunday-school
talk and resolutions--but had really got together for business and
had said to Germany, "The moment you fire a shot, we'll all fight
against you; we have so many millions of men, so many men-of-war,
so many billions of money; and we'll increase all these if you do
not change your system and your building-up of armies"--then there
would have been no war.

My point is not sentimental. It is:

(1) We must maintain our own self-respect and safety. If we submit
to too many insults, _that_ will in time bring Germany against us.
We've got to show at some time that we don't believe, either, in
the efficacy of Sunday-School resolves for peace--that we are
neither Daughters of the Dove of Peace nor Sons of the Olive
Branch, and

(2) About nagging and forever presenting technical legal points as
lawyers do to confuse juries--the point is the point of efficiency.
If we do that, we can't carry our main points. I find it harder and
harder to get answers now to important questions because we ask so
many unimportant and nagging ones.

I've no sentiment--perhaps not enough. My gushing days are gone, if
I ever had 'em. The cutting-out of the "100 years of peace"
oratory, etc., etc., was one of the blessings of the war. But we
must be just and firm and preserve our own self-respect and keep
alive the fear that other nations have of us; and we ought to have
the courage to make the Department of State more than a bureau of
complaints. We must learn to say "No" even to a Gawdamighty
independent American citizen when he asks an improper or
impracticable question. Public Opinion in the United States
consists of something more than the threats of Congressmen and the
bleating of newspapers; it consists of the judgment of honourable
men on courageous and frank actions--a judgment that cannot be made
up till action is taken.

Heartily yours,
W.H.P.


_To Edward M. House_

American Embassy, London, Sept. 8, 1915.

(This is not prudent. It is only true--nothing more.)

DEAR HOUSE:

I take it for granted that Dumba[4] is going, of course. But I must
tell you that the President is being laughed at by our best friends
for his slowness in action. I hardly ever pick up a paper without
seeing some sarcastic remark. I don't mean they expect us to come
into the war. They only hoped we would be as good as our
word--would regard another submarine attack on a ship carrying
Americans as an unfriendly act and would send Bernstorff home. Yet
the _Arabic_ and now the _Hesperian_ have had no effect in action.
Bernstorff's personal _note to Lansing[5], even as far as it goes,
does not bind his Government_.

The upshot of all this is that the President is fast losing in the
minds of our best friends here all that he gained by his courageous
stand on the Panama tolls. They feel that if he takes another
insult--keeps taking them--and is satisfied with Bernstorff's
personal word, which is proved false in four days--he'll take
anything. And the British will pay less attention to what we say.
That's inevitable. If the American people and the President accept
the _Arabic_ and the _Hesperian_ and do nothing to Dumba till the
Government here gave out his letter, which the State Department had
(and silently held) for several days--then nobody on this side the
world will pay much heed to anything we say hereafter.

This, as I say, doesn't mean that these (thoughtful) people wish or
expect us to go to war. They wish only that we'd prove ourselves as
good as the President's word. That's the conservative truth; we're
losing influence more rapidly than I supposed it were possible.

Dumba's tardy dismissal will not touch the main matter, which is
the rights of neutrals at sea, and keeping our word in action.

Yours sincerely,
W.H.P.

P.S. They say it's Mexico over again--watchful waiting and nothing
doing. And the feeling grows that Bryan has really conquered, since
his programme seems to prevail.

_To Edward M. House_

London, Tuesday night, Sept. 8, 1915.

DEAR HOUSE:

The Germans seem to think it a good time to try to feel about for
peace. They have more to offer now than they may have again. That's
all. A man who seriously talks peace now in Paris or in London on
any terms that the Germans will consider, would float dead that
very night in the Seine or in the Thames. The Germans have for the
time being "done-up" the Russians; but the French have shells
enough to plough the German trenches day and night (they've been at
it for a fortnight now); Joffre has been to see the Italian
generalissimo; and the English destroy German submarines now almost
as fast as the Germans send them out. I am credibly told that
several weeks ago a group of Admiralty men who are in the secret
had a little dinner to celebrate the destruction of the 50th
submarine.

While this is going on, you are talking on your side of the water
about a change in German policy! The only change is that the number
of submarines available becomes smaller and smaller, and that they
wish to use Uncle Sam's broad, fat back to crawl down on when they
have failed.

Consequently, they are laughing at Uncle Sam here--it comes near to
being ridicule, in fact, for seeming to jump at Bernstorff's
unfrank assurances. And, as I have telegraphed the President,
English opinion is--well, it is very nearly disrespectful. Men say
here (I mean our old friends) that with no disavowal of the
_Lusitania_, the _Falaba_, the _Gulflight_, or the _Arabic_ or of
the _Hesperian_, the Germans are "stuffing" Uncle Sam, that Uncle
Sam is in the clutches of the peace-at-any-price public opinion,
that the United States will suffer any insult and do nothing. I
hardly pick up a paper that does not have a sarcastic paragraph or
cartoon. We are on the brink of convincing the English that we'll
not act, whatever the provocation. By the English, I do not mean
the lighter, transitory public opinion, but I mean the thoughtful
men who do not wish us or expect us to fire a gun. They say that
the American democracy, since Cleveland's day, has become a mere
agglomeration of different races, without national unity, national
aims, and without courage or moral qualities. And (I deeply regret
to say) the President is losing here the high esteem he won by his
Panama tolls repeal. They ask, why on earth did he raise the issue
if under repeated provocation he is unable to recall Gerard or to
send Bernstorff home? The _Hesperian_ follows the _Arabic_; other
"liners" will follow the _Hesperian_, if the Germans have
submarines. And, when Sackville-West[6] was promptly sent home for
answering a private citizen's inquiry about the two political
parties, Dumba is (yet awhile) retained in spite of a far graver
piece of business. There is a tone of sad disappointment here--not
because the most thoughtful men want us in the war (they don't),
but because for some reason, which nobody here understands, the
President, having taken a stand, seems unable to do anything.

All this is a moderate interpretation of sorrowful public opinion
here. And the result will inevitably be that they will pay far less
heed to anything we may hereafter say. In fact men now say here
every day that the American democracy has no opinion, can form no
opinion, has no moral quality, and that the word of its President
never gets as far as action even of the mildest form. The
atmosphere is very depressing. And this feeling has apparently got
beyond anybody's control. I've even heard this said: "The voice of
the United States is Mr. Wilson's: its actions are controlled by
Mr. Bryan."

So, you see, the war will go on a long long time. So far as English
opinion is concerned, the United States is useful to make
ammunition and is now thought of chiefly in this connection. Less
and less attention is paid to what we say. Even the American
telegrams to the London papers have a languid tone.

Yet recent revelations have made it clearer than ever that the same
qualities that the English accuse us of having are in them and that
these qualities are directly to blame for this war. I recall that
when I was in Germany a few weeks, six years ago, I became
convinced that Germany had prepared to fight England; I didn't
know when, but I did know that was what the war-machine had in
mind. Of course, I had no opportunities to find out anything in
particular. You were told practically that same thing by the
Kaiser, before the war began. "We are ready," said he. Of course
the English feared it and Sir Edward put his whole life into his
effort to prevent it. The day the war began, he told me with tears
that it seemed that his life had been wasted--that his life work
had gone for naught.--Nobody could keep from wondering why England
didn't--

(Here comes a parenthesis. Word came to me a little while ago that
a Zeppelin was on its way to London. Such a remark doesn't arouse
much attention. But just as I had finished the fifth line above
this, Frank and Mrs. Page came in and challenged me to play a game
of cards before we should go to bed. We sat down, the cards were
dealt, and bang! bang!--with the deep note of an explosion. A
third, a fourth shot. We went into the street. There the Zeppelin
was revealed by a searchlight--sailing along. I think it had
probably dropped its bombs; but the aircraft guns were cracking
away at it. Some of them shot explosive projectiles to find the
range. Now and then one such explosive would almost reach the
Zeppelin, but it was too high for them and it sailed away, the air
guns doing their ineffectual best. I couldn't see whether airplanes
were trying to shoot it or not. The searchlight revealed the
Zeppelin but nothing else.--While we were watching this battle in
the air, the maids came down from the top of the house and went
into the cellar. I think they've already gone back. You can't
imagine how little excitement it caused. It produces less fright
than any other conceivable engine of war.

We came back as soon as the Zeppelin was out of sight and the
firing had ceased; we played our game of cards; and here I am
writing you the story-all within about half an hour.--There was a
raid over London last night, too, wherein a dozen or two women and
children and a few men were killed. I haven't the slightest idea
what harm this raid to-night has done. For all I know it may not be
all done. But of all imaginable war-experiences this seems the most
futile. It interrupted a game of cards for twenty minutes!)

Now--to go on with my story: I have wondered ever since the war
began why the Allies were not better prepared--especially England
on land. England has just one _big_ land gun--no more. Now it has
turned out, as you have doubtless read, that the British Government
were as good as told by the German Government that Germany was
going to war pretty soon--this in 1912 when Lord Haldane[7] was
sent to make friends with Germany.

The only answer he brought back was a proposition that England
should in any event remain neutral--stand aside while Germany
whipped Russia and France. This insulting proposal was kept secret
till the other day. Now, why didn't the British Cabinet inform the
people and get ready? They were afraid the English people wouldn't
believe it and would accuse them of fomenting war. The English
people were making money and pursuing their sports. Probably they
wouldn't have believed it. So the Liberal Cabinet went on in
silence, knowing that war was coming, but not exactly when it was
coming, and they didn't make even a second big gun.

Now here was the same silence in this "democracy" that they now
complain of in ours. Rather an interesting and discouraging
parallel--isn't it? Public opinion has turned Lord Haldane out of
office because he didn't tell the public what he declares they
wouldn't have believed. If the English had raised an army in 1912,
and made a lot of big guns, Austria would not have trampled Serbia
in the earth. There would have been no war now; and the strong
European Powers might have made then the same sort of protective
peace-insurance combine that they will try to make after this war
is ended. Query: A democracy's inability to _act_--how much is this
apparently inherent quality of a democracy to blame for this war
and for--other things?

When I am asked every day "Why the United States doesn't _do_
something--send Dumba and Bernstorff home?"--Well, it is not the
easiest question in the world to answer.

Yours heartily,
W.H.P.

P.S. This is the most comical of all worlds: While I was writing
this, it seems the maids went back upstairs and lighted their
lights without pulling their shades down--they occupy three rooms,
in front. The doorbell rang furiously. Here were more than half a
dozen policemen and special constables--must investigate! "One
light would be turned on, another would go out; another one
on!"--etc., etc. Frank tackled them, told 'em it was only the maids
going to bed, forgetting to pull down the shades. Spies and
signalling were in the air! So, in the morning, I'll have to send
over to the Foreign Office and explain. The Zeppelin did more
"frightfulness" than I had supposed, after all. Doesn't this strike
you as comical?

W.H.P.

Friday, September 10, 1915.

P.S. The news is just come that Dumba is dismissed. That will clear
the atmosphere--a little, but only a little. Dumba committed a
diplomatic offence. The German Government has caused the death of
United States citizens, has defied us, has declared it had changed
its policy and yet has gone on with the same old policy. Besides,
Bernstorff has done everything that Dumba did except employ
Archibald, which was a mere incident of the game. The President
took a strong stand: they have disregarded it--no apology nor
reparation for a single boat that has been sunk. Now the English
opinion of the Germans is hardly a calm, judicial opinion--of
course not. There may be facts that have not been made known. There
must be good reasons that nobody here can guess, why the President
doesn't act in the long succession of German acts against us. _But
I tell you with all solemnity that British opinion and the British
Government have absolutely lost their respect for us and their
former high estimate of the President. And that former respect is
gone for good unless he acts now very quickly_[8]. They will pay
nothing more than formal and polite attention to anything we may
hereafter say. This is not resentful. They don't particularly care
for us to get into the war. Their feeling (I mean among our best
old friends) is not resentful. It is simply sorrowful. They had the
highest respect for our people and our President. The Germans defy
us; we sit in silence. They conclude here that we'll submit to
anything from anybody. We'll write strong notes--nothing more.

I can't possibly exaggerate the revulsion of feeling. Members of
the Government say (in private, of course) that we'll submit to any
insult. The newspapers refuse to publish articles which attempt to
make the President's silence reasonable. "It isn't defensible,"
they say, "and they would only bring us thousands of insulting
letters from our readers." I can't think of a paper nor of a man
who has a good word to say for us--except, perhaps, a few Quaker
peace-at-any-price people. And our old friends are disappointed and
sorrowful. They feel that we have dropped out of a position of
influence in the world.

I needn't and can't write more. Of course there are more important
things than English respect. But the English think that every Power
has lost respect for us--the Germans most of all. And (unless the
President acts very rigorously and very quickly) we'll have to get
along a long time without British respect.

W.H.P.

P.S. The last Zeppelin raid--which interrupted the game of
cards--killed more than twenty persons and destroyed more than
seven million dollars' worth of private business property--all
non-combatants!

W.H.P.


_To Edward M. House_

21st of September, 1915.

DEAR HOUSE:

The insulting cartoon that I enclose (destroy it without showing
it) is typical of, I suppose, five hundred that have appeared here
within a month. This represents the feeling and opinion of the
average man. They say we wrote brave notes and made courageous
demands, to none of which a satisfactory reply has come, but only
more outrages and no guarantee for the future. Yet we will not even
show our displeasure by sending Bernstorff home. We've simply
"gone out," like a snuffed candle, in the regard and respect of the
vast volume of British opinion. (The last _Punch_ had six
ridiculing allusions to our "fall.")

It's the loneliest time I've had in England. There's a tendency to
avoid me.

They can't understand here the continued declaration in the United
States that the British Government is trying to take our trade--to
use its blockade and navy with the direct purpose of giving British
trade profit out of American detentions. Of course, the Government
had no such purpose and has done no such thing--with any such
purpose. It isn't thinking about trade but only about war.

The English think they see in this the effect on our Government and
on American opinion of the German propaganda. I have had this
trade-accusation investigated half a dozen times--the accusation
that this Government is using its military power for its own trade
advantage to our detriment: it simply isn't true. They stop our
cargoes, not for their advantage, but wholly to keep things from
the enemy. Study our own trade reports.

In a word, our importers are playing (so the English think)
directly into the hands of the Germans. So matters go on from bad
to worse.

Bryce[9] is very sad. He confessed to me yesterday the utter
hopelessness of the two people's ever understanding one another.

The military situation is very blue--very blue. The general feeling
is that the long war will begin next March and end--nobody dares
predict.

W.H.P.

P.S. There's not a moral shadow of a doubt (1) that the commander
of the submarine that sunk the _Arabic_ is dead--although he makes
reports to his government! nor (2) that the _Hesperian_ was
torpedoed. The State Department has a piece of the torpedo.


V

The letters which Page sent directly to the President were just as
frank. "Incidents occur nearly every day," he wrote to President Wilson
in the autumn of 1915, "which reveal the feeling that the Germans have
taken us in. Last week one of our naval men, Lieutenant McBride, who has
just been ordered home, asked the Admiralty if he might see the piece of
metal found on the deck of the _Hesperian_. Contrary to their habit, the