not joint; absolute not relative."
This reply gave satisfaction to both the United States and the countries
of the Allies, and Page himself regarded it as a master stroke. "The
more I think of it," he wrote on May 17th, "the better the strategy of
the President appears, in his latest (and last) note to Germany. They
laid a trap for him and he caught them in their own trap. The Germans
had tried to 'put it up' to the President to commit the first unfriendly
act. He now 'puts it up' to them. And this is at last bound to end the
controversy if they sink another ship unlawfully. The French see this
clearly and so do the best English, and it has produced a most
favourable impression. The future? The German angling for peace will
prove futile. They'll have another fit of fury. Whether they will again
become reckless or commit 'mistakes' with their submarines will depend
partly on their fury, partly on their fear to make a breach with the
United States, but mainly on the state of their submarine fleet. How
many have the English caught and destroyed? That's the main question,
after all. The English view may not be fair to them. But nobody here
believes that they will long abstain from the luxury of crime."

It is thus apparent that when the Germans practically demanded, as a
price of their abstention from indiscriminate submarine warfare, that
Mr. Wilson should move against Great Britain in the matter of the
blockade, they realized the futility of any such step, and that what
they really expected to obtain was the presidential mediation for peace.
President Wilson at once began to move in this direction. On May 27th,
three weeks after the Sussex "pledge," he made an address in Washington
before the League to Enforce Peace, which was intended to lay the basis
for his approaching negotiations. It was in this speech that he made the
statement that the United States was "not concerned with the causes and
the objects" of the war. "The obscure fountains from which its
stupendous flood has burst forth we are not interested to search for or
to explain." This was another of those unfortunate sentences which made
the President such an unsympathetic figure in the estimation of the
Allies and seemed to indicate to them that he had no appreciation of the
nature of the struggle. Though this attitude of non-partisanship, of
equal balance between the accusations of the Allies and Germany, was
intended to make the President acceptable as a mediator, the practical
result was exactly the reverse, for Allied statesmen turned from Wilson
as soon as those sentences appeared in print. The fact that this same
oration specified the "freedom of the seas" as one of the foundation
rocks of the proposed new settlement only accentuated this unfavourable
attitude.

This then was clearly the "atmosphere" which prevailed in Washington at
the time that Page was summoned home. But Page's letters of this period
indicate how little sympathy he entertained for such negotiations. "It
is quite apparent," he had recently written to Colonel House, "that
nobody in Washington understands the war. Come over and find out."
Extracts from a letter which he wrote to his brother, Mr. Henry A. Page,
of Aberdeen, North Carolina, are especially interesting when placed side
by side with the President's statements of this particular time. These
passages show that a two years' close observation of the Prussians in
action had not changed Page's opinion of their motives or of their
methods; in 1916, as in 1914, Page could see in this struggle nothing
but a colossal buccaneering expedition on the part of Germany. "As I
look at it," he wrote, "our dilly-dallying is likely to get us into war.
The Germans want somebody to rob--to pay their great military bills.
They've robbed Belgium and are still robbing it of every penny they can
lay their hands on. They robbed Poland and Serbia--two very poor
countries which didn't have much. They set out to rob France and have so
far been stopped from getting to Paris. If they got to Paris there
wouldn't be thirty cents' worth of movable property there in a week, and
they'd levy fines of millions of francs a day. Their military scheme and
teaching and open purpose is to make somebody pay for their vast
military outlay of the last forty years. They must do that or go
bankrupt. Now it looks as if they would go bankrupt. But in a little
while they may be able to bombard New York and demand billions of
dollars to refrain from destroying the city. That's the richest place
left to spoil.

"Now they say that--quite openly and quite frankly. Now if we keep
'neutral' to a highwayman--what do we get for our pains? That's the
mistake we are making. If we had sent Bernstorff home the day after the
_Lusitania_ was sunk and recalled Gerard and begun to train an army we'd
have had no more trouble with them. But since they have found out that
they can keep us discussing things forever and a day, they will keep us
discussing things till they are ready. We are very simple; and we'll get
shot for it yet....

"The prestige and fear of the United States has gone down, down,
down-disappeared; and we are regarded as 'discussors,' incapable of
action, scared to death of war. That's all the invitation that robbers,
whose chief business is war, want--all the invitation they need. These
devils are out for robbery--and you don't seem to believe it in the
United States: that's the queer thing. This neutrality business makes us
an easy mark. As soon as they took a town in Belgium, they asked for all
the money in the town, all the food, all the movable property; and
they've levied a tax every month since on every town and made the town
government borrow the money to pay it. If a child in a town makes a
disrespectful remark, they fine the town an extra $1,000. They haven't
got enough so far to keep them going flush; and they won't unless they
get Paris--which they can't do now. If they got London, they'd be rich;
they wouldn't leave a shilling and they'd make all the rich English get
all the money they own abroad. This is the reason that Frenchmen and
Englishmen prefer to be killed by the 100,000. In the country over which
their army has passed a crow would die of starvation and no human being
has ten cents of real money. The Belgian Commission is spending more
than 100 million dollars a year to keep the Belgians alive--only because
they are robbed every day. They have a rich country and could support
themselves but for these robbers. That's the meaning of the whole thing.
And yet we treat them as if they were honourable people. It's only a
question of time and of power when they will attack us, or the Canal, or
South America. Everybody on this side the world knows that. And they are
'yielding' to keep us out of this war so that England will not help us
when they (the Germans) get ready to attack America.

"There is the strangest infatuation in the United States with Peace--the
strangest illusion about our safety without preparation."

Several letters to Colonel House show the state of the British mind on
the subject of the President's peace proposals:

_To Edward M. House_

Royal Bath and East Cliff Hotel,
Bournemouth,
23 May, 1916.

DEAR HOUSE:

The motor trip that the Houses, the Wallaces, and the Pages took
about a year ago was the last trip (three days) that I had had out
of London; and I'd got pretty tired. The _China_ case having been
settled (and settled as we wanted it), I thought it a good time to
try to get away for a week. So here Mrs. Page and I are--very much
to my benefit. I've spent a beautiful week out of doors, on this
seashore; and I have only about ten per cent. of the fatal diseases
that I had a week ago. That is to say, I'm as sound as a dollar and
feel like a fighting cock.

Sir Edward was fine about the China[39] case. He never disputed the
principle of the inviolability of American ships on the high seas;
but the Admiralty maintained that some of these men are officers in
the German Army and are now receiving officers' pay. I think that
that is probably true. Nevertheless, the Admiralty had bungled the
case badly and Sir Edward simply rode over them. They have a fine
quarrel among themselves and we got all we wanted and asked for.

Of course, I can't make out the Germans but I am afraid some huge
deviltry is yet coming. When the English say that the Germans must
give up their militarism, I doubt if the Germans yet know what they
mean. They talk about conquered territory--Belgium, Poland, and the
rest. It hasn't entered their heads that they've got to give up
their armies and their military system. When this does get into
their heads, if it ever do, I think they may so swell with rage at
this "insult" that they may break loose in one last desperate
effort, ignoring the United States, defying the universe, running
amuck. Of course it would be foolhardy to predict this, but the
fear of it keeps coming into my mind. The fear is the more
persistent because, if the worst comes to them, the military caste
and perhaps the dynasty itself will prefer to die in one last
terrific onslaught rather than to make a peace on terms which will
require the practical extinction of their supreme power. This, I
conceive, is the really great danger that yet awaits the world--if
the Allies hold together till defeat and famine drive the Germans
to the utmost desperation.

In the meantime, the Allies still holding together as they are,
there's no peace yet in the British and French minds. They're after
the militarism of Prussia--not territory or other gains; and they
seem likely to get it, as much by the blockade as by victories on
land. Do you remember how in the Franco-Prussian War, Bismarck
refused to deal with the French Emperor? He demanded that
representatives of the French people should deal with him. He got
what he asked for and that was the last of the French Emperor.
Neither the French nor the English have forgotten that. You will
recall that the Germans starved Paris into submission. Neither the
French nor the English have forgotten that. These two leaves out of
the Germans' own book of forty-five years ago--these two and no
more--_may_ be forced on the Germans themselves. They are both
quite legitimate, too. You can read a recollection of both these
events between the lines of the interviews that Sir Edward and Mr.
Balfour recently gave to American newspapers.

There is nothing but admiration here for the strategy of the
President's last note to Germany. That was the cleverest play made
by anybody since the war began--clever beyond praise. Now he's "got
'em." But nobody here doubts that they will say, sooner or later,
that the United States, not having forced the breaking of the
British blockade, has not kept its bargain--that's what they'll
say--and it is in order again to run amuck. This is what the
English think--provided the Germans have enough submarines left to
keep up real damage. By that time, too, it will be clear to the
Germans that the President can't bring peace so long as only one
side wishes peace. The Germans seem to have counted much on the
Irish uprising, which came to pass at all only because of the
customary English stupid bungling; and the net result has been only
to put the mass of the Irish on their mettle to show that they are
not Sinn Feiners. The final upshot will be to strengthen the
British Army. God surely is good to this bungling British
Government. Wind and wave and the will of High Heaven seem to work
for them. I begin to understand their stupidity and their
arrogance. If your enemies are such fools in psychological tactics
and Heaven is with you, why take the trouble to be alert? And why
be modest? Whatever the reason, these English are now more cocky
and confident than they've been before since the war began. They
are beginning to see results. The only question seems to be to hold
the Allies together, and they seem to be doing that. In fact, the
battle of Verdun has cemented them. They now have visible proof
that the German Army is on the wane. And they have trustworthy
evidence that the blockade is telling severely on the Germans.
Nobody, I think, expects to thrash 'em to a frazzle; but the almost
universal opinion here is that the hold of militarism will be
shaken loose. And the German High Canal Navy--what's to become of
that? Von Tirpitz is down and out, but there are thousands of
Germans, I hear, who complain of their naval inactivity. But God
only knows the future--I don't. I think that I do well if I keep
track of the present....

My kindest regards to Mrs. House,

Yours very heartily,
W.H.P.

_To Edward M. House_

London, 25 May, 1916.

DEAR HOUSE:

No utterance by anybody has so stirred the people of this kingdom
for many months as Sir Edward Grey's impromptu speech last night in
the House of Commons about Peace, when he called the German
Chancellor a first-class liar. I sent you to-day a clipping from
one of the morning papers. Every paper I pick up compliments Sir
Edward. Everyone says, "We must fight to a finish." The more
sensational press intimates that any Englishman who uses the word
"peace" ought to be shot. You have never seen such a rally as that
which has taken place in response to Sir Edward's cry. In the first
place, as you know, he is the most gentle of all the Cabinet, the
last man to get on a "war-rampage," the least belligerent and
rambunctious of the whole lot. When he felt moved to say that there
can be no peace till the German military despotism is broken,
everybody from one end of the Kingdom to the other seems to have
thrown up his hat and applauded. Except the half-dozen peace-cranks
in the House (Bryan sort of men) you can't find a man, woman,
child, or dog that isn't fired with the determination to see the
war through. The continued talk about peace which is reported
directly and indirectly from Germany--coming from Switzerland, from
Rome, from Washington--has made the English and the French very
angry: no, "angry" isn't quite the right word. It has made them
very determined. They feel insulted by the impudence of the
Germans, who, since they know they are bound to lose, seem to be
turning heaven and earth to induce neutrals to take their view of
peace. People are asking here, "If they are victorious, why doesn't
their fleet come out of the canal and take the seas, and again open
their commerce? Why do they whimper about the blockade when they
will not even risk a warship to break it?" You'll recall how the
talk here used to be that the English wouldn't wake up. You
wouldn't know 'em now. Your bulldog has got his grip and even
thunder doesn't disturb him.

Incidentally, all the old criticism of Sir Edward Grey seems to
have been forgotten. You hear nothing but praise of him now. I am
told that he spoke his impromptu speech last night with great fire
and at once left the House. His speech has caused a greater stir
than the Irish rebellion, showing that every Englishman feels that
Sir Edward said precisely what every man feels.

The Germans have apparently overdone and overworked their premature
peace efforts and have made things worse for them. They've
overplayed their hand.

In fact, I see no end of the war. The Allies are not going to quit
prematurely. They won't even discuss the subject yet with one
another, and the Germans, by their peace-talk of the sort that they
inspire, simply postpone the day when the Allies will take the
subject up.

All the while, too, the Allies work closer and closer together.
They'll soon be doing even their diplomatic work with neutrals, as
a unit--England and France as one nation, and (on great subjects)
Russia and Italy also with them.

I've talked lately not only with Sir Edward but with nearly half
the other members of the Cabinet, and they are all keyed up to the
same tune. The press of both parties, too, are (for once) wholly
agreed: Liberal and Conservative papers alike hold the same
war-creed.

Sincerely yours,

WALTER H. PAGE.

Before leaving for Washington Page discussed the situation personally
with Sir Edward Grey and Lord Bryce. He has left memoranda of both
interviews.

_Notes of a Private and Informal Conversation with Sir Edward Grey, at
his residence, on July 27, 1916, when I called to say good-bye before
sailing on leave to the United States_

... Sir Edward Grey went on to say quite frankly that two thoughts
expressed in a speech by the President some months ago had had a very
serious influence on British opinion. One thought was that the causes or
objects of the war were of no concern to him, and the other was his (at
least implied) endorsement of "the freedom of the seas," which the
President did not define. Concerning the first thought, he understood of
course that a neutral President could not say that he favoured one side
or the other: everybody understood that and nobody expected him to take
sides. But when the President said that the objects of the war did not
concern him, that was taken by British public opinion as meaning a
condemnation of the British cause, and it produced deep feeling.

Concerning the "freedom of the seas," he believed that the first use of
the phrase was made by Colonel House (on his return from one of his
visits to Berlin)[40], but the public now regarded it as a German
invention and it meant to the British mind a policy which would render
British supremacy at sea of little value in time of war; and public
opinion resented this. He knew perfectly well that at a convenient time
new rules must be made governing the conduct of war at sea and on the
land, too. But the German idea of "the freedom of the seas" ("freedom"
was needed on land also) is repulsive to the British mind.

He mentioned these things because they had produced in many minds an
unwillingness, he feared, to use the good offices of the President
whenever any mediatorial service might be done by a neutral. The
tendency of these remarks was certainly in that direction. Yet Sir
Edward carefully abstained from expressing such an unwillingness on his
own part, and the inference from his tone and manner, as well as from
his habitual attitude, is that he feels no unwillingness to use the
President's good office, if occasion should arise.

I asked what he meant by "mediatorial"--the President's offering his
services or good offices on his own initiative? He said--No, not that.
But the Germans might express to the President their willingness or even
their definite wish to have an armistice, on certain terms, to discuss
conditions of peace coupled with an intimation that he might sound the
Allies. He did not expect the President to act on his own initiative,
but at the request or at least at the suggestion of the German
Government, he might conceivably sound the Allies--especially, he added,
"since I am informed that the notion is wide-spread in America that the
war will end inconclusively--as a draw." He smiled and remarked, as an
aside, that he didn't think that this notion was held by any
considerable group of people in any other country, certainly not in
Great Britain.

In further talk on this subject he said that none of the Allies could
mention peace or discuss peace till France should express such a wish;
for it is the very vitals of France that have received and are receiving
the shock of such an assault as was never before launched against any
nation. Unless France was ready to quit, none of France's Allies could
mention peace, and France showed no mood to quit. Least of all could the
English make or receive any such suggestion at least till her new great
army had done its best; for until lately the severest fighting had not
been done by the British, whose army had practically been held in
reserve. There had for a long time been a perfect understanding between
Joffre and Haig--that the English would wait to begin their offensive
till the moment arrived when it best suited the French.

The impression that I got from this part of the conversation was that
Sir Edward hoped that I might convey to the President (as, of course, he
could not) Sir Edward's idea of the effect of these parts of the
President's speech on feeling in England toward him. Nowhere in the
conversation did he make any request of me. Any one, overhearing it,
might have supposed it to be a conversation between two men, with no
object beyond expressing their views. But, of course, he hoped and meant
that I should, in my own way, make known to the President what he said.
He did not say that the President's good offices, when the time should
come, would be unwelcome to him or to his government; and he meant, I am
sure, to convey only the fear that by these assertions the President had
planted an objection to his good offices in a large section of British
opinion.

Among the conditions of peace that Sir Edward himself personally would
like to see imposed (he had not yet discussed the subject with any of
his colleagues in the Government) was this: that the German Government
should agree to submit to an impartial (neutral) commission or court the
question, Who began the war and who is responsible for it? The German
Chancellor and other high German officials have put it about and
continue to put it about that England is responsible, and doubtless the
German people at least believe it. All the governments concerned must
(this is his idea) submit to the tribunal all its documents and other
evidence bearing on the subject; and of course the finding of the
tribunal must be published.

Then he talked a good deal about the idea that lies behind the League
for Enforcing Peace--in a sympathetic mood. He went on to point out how
such a league--with force behind it--would at any one of three stages
have prevented this war--(1) When England proposed a conference to
France, Germany, Italy, and Russia, all agreed to it but Germany.
Germany alone prevented a discussion. If the League to Enforce Peace had
included England, France, Italy, and Russia--there would have been no
war; for Germany would have seen at once that they would all be against
her. (2) Later, when the Czar sent the Kaiser a personal telegram
proposing to submit their differences to some tribunal, a League to
Enforce Peace would have prevented war. And (3) when the question of the
invasion of Belgium came up, every signatory to the treaty guaranteeing
Belgium's integrity gave assurance of keeping the treaty--but Germany,
and Germany gave an evasive answer. A league would again have prevented
a war--or put all the military force of all its members against Germany.

Throughout the conversation, which lasted about an hour, Sir Edward said
more than once, as he has often said to me, that he hoped we should be
able to keep the friction between our governments at the minimum. He
would regard it as the greatest calamity if the ill-feeling that various
events have stirred up in sections of public opinion on each side should
increase or should become permanent. His constant wish and effort were
to lessen and if possible to remove all misunderstandings.

*       *       *       *       *

Lord Bryce was one of the Englishmen with whom Page was especially
inclined to discuss pending problems.

_Notes on a conversation with Lord Bryce, July 31, 1916_

Lord Bryce spoke of the President's declaration that we were not
concerned with the causes or objects of the war and he said that that
remark had caused much talk--all, as he thought, on a misunderstanding
of Mr. Wilson's meaning. "He meant, I take it, only that he did not
propose at that time to discuss the causes or the objects of the war;
and it is a pity that his sentence was capable of being interpreted to
mean something else; and the sentence was published and discussed here
apart from its context--a most unfair proceeding. I can imagine that the
President and his friends may be much annoyed by this improper
interpretation."

I remarked that the body of the speech in which this remark occurred
might have been written in Downing Street, so friendly was it to the
Allies.

"Quite, quite," said he.

This was at dinner, Lady Bryce and Mrs. Page and he and I only being
present.

When he and I went into the library he talked more than an hour.

"And what about this blacklist?" he asked. I told him. He had been in
France for a week and did not know just what had been done. He said that
that seemed to him a mistake. "The Government doesn't know
America--neither does the British public. Neither does the American
Government (no American government) know the British. Hence your
government writes too many notes--all governments are likely to write
too many notes. Everybody gets tired of seeing them and they lose their
effect."

He mentioned the blockade and said that it had become quite
effective--wonderfully effective, in fact; and he implied that he did
not see why we now failed to recognize it. Our refusal to recognize it
had caused and doubtless is now causing such ill-feeling as exists in
England.

Then he talked long about peace and how it would probably be arranged.
He judged, from letters that he receives from the United States as well
as from Americans who come over here, that there was an expectation in
America that the President would be called in at the peace settlement
and that some persons even expected him to offer mediation. He did not
see how that could be. He knew no precedent for such a proceeding. The
President might, of course, on the definite request of either side, make
a definite inquiry of the other side; but such a course would be, in
effect, merely the transmission of an inquiry.

But after peace was made and the time came to set up a League for
Enforcing Peace, or some such machinery, of course the United States
would be and would have to be a party to that if it were to succeed. He
reminded me that a little group of men here, of whom he was one, early
in the war sketched substantially the same plan that the American League
to Enforce Peace has worked out. It had not seemed advisable to have any
general public discussion of it in England till the war should end:
nobody had time now to give to it.

As he knew no precedent for belligerents to call in a third party when
they met to end a war, so he knew no precedent for any outside
government to protest against the invasion of a country by a Power that
had signed a treaty to guarantee the integrity of the invaded
country--no precedent, that is to say, for the United States to protest
against the invasion of Belgium. "That precedent," I said, "was found in
Hysteria."

Lord Bryce, who had just returned from a visit to the British
headquarters in France, hardly dared hope for the end of the war till
next year; and the intervening time between now and the end would be a
time, he feared, of renewed atrocities and increasing hatred. He cited
the killing of Captain Fryatt of the _Brussels_ and the forcible
deportation of young women from Lille and other towns in the provinces
of France occupied by the Germans.

The most definite idea that he had touching American-British relations
was the fear that the anti-British feeling in the United States would
become stronger and would outlast the war. "It is organized," he said.
"The disaffected Germans and the disaffected Irish are interested in
keeping it up." He asked what effect I thought the Presidential campaign
would have on this feeling. He seemed to have a fear that somehow the
campaign would give an occasion for stirring it up even more.

"Good-bye. Give my regards to all my American friends; and I'm proud to
say there are a good many of them."

*       *       *       *       *

One episode that was greatly stirring both Great Britain and the United
States at this time was the trial of Sir Roger Casement, the Irish
leader who had left Wilhelmshaven for Ireland in a German submarine and
who had been captured at Tralee in the act of landing arms and munitions
for an Irish insurrection. Casement's subsequent trial and conviction on
a charge of high treason had inspired a movement in his favour from
Irish-Americans, the final outcome of which was that the Senate, in
early August, passed a resolution asking the British Government for
clemency and stipulating that this resolution should be presented to the
Foreign Office. Page was then on the ocean bound for the United States
and the delicate task of presenting this document to Sir Edward Grey
fell upon Mr. Laughlin, who was now Chargé d'affaires. Mr. Laughlin is a
diplomat of great experience, but this responsibility at first seemed to
be something of a poser even for him. He had received explicit
instructions from Washington to present this resolution, and the one
thing above all which a diplomatic officer must do is to carry out the
orders of his government, but Mr. Laughlin well knew that, should he
present this paper in the usual manner, the Foreign Secretary might
decline to receive it; he might regard it as an interference with
matters that exclusively concerned the sovereign state. Mr. Laughlin,
however, has a technique all his own, and, in accordance with this, he
asked for an interview with Sir Edward Grey to discuss a matter of
routine business. However, the Chargé d'affaires carried the Casement
resolution tucked away in an inside pocket when he made his call.

Like Mr. Page, Mr. Laughlin was on the friendliest terms with Sir Edward
Grey, and, after the particular piece of business had been transacted,
the two men, as usual, fell into casual conversation. Casement then
loomed large in the daily press, and the activities of the American
Senate had likewise caused some commotion in London. In round-about
fashion Mr. Laughlin was able to lead Sir Edward to make some reference
to the Casement case.

"I see the Senate has passed a resolution asking clemency," said the
Foreign Secretary--exactly the remark which the American wished to
elicit.

"Yes," was the reply. "By the way, I happen to have a copy of the
resolution with me. May I give it to you?"

"Yes, I should like to have it."

The Foreign Secretary read it over with deliberation.

"This is a very interesting document," he said, when he had finished.
"Would you have any objection if I showed it to the Prime Minister?"

Of course that was precisely what Mr. Laughlin did wish, and he replied
that this was the desire of his government. The purpose of his visit had
been accomplished, and he was able to cable Washington that its
instructions had been carried out and that the Casement resolution had
been presented to the British Government. Simultaneously with his
communication, however, he reported also that the execution of Roger
Casement had taken place. In fact, it was being carried out at the time
of the interview. This incident lends point to Page's memorandum of the
last interview which he had before leaving England.

*       *       *       *       *

August 1st. I lunched with Mr. Asquith. One does not usually bring away
much from his conversations, and he did not say much to-day worth
recording. But he showed a very eager interest in the Presidential
campaign, and he confessed that he felt some anxiety about the
anti-British feeling in the United States. This led him to tell me that
he could not in good conscience interfere with Casement's execution, in
spite of the shoals of telegrams that he was receiving from the United
States. This man, said he, visited Irish prisoners in German camps and
tried to seduce them to take up arms against Great Britain--their own
country. When they refused, the Germans removed them to the worst places
in their Empire and, as a result, some of them died. Then Casement came
to Ireland in a German man-of-war (a submarine) accompanied by a ship
loaded with guns. "In all good conscience to my country and to my
responsibilities I cannot interfere." He hoped that thoughtful opinion
in the United States would see this whole matter in a fair and just way.

I asked him about anti-American feeling in Great Britain. He said: "Do
not let that unduly disturb you. At bottom we understand you. At bottom
the two people surely understand one another and have unbreakable bonds
of sympathy. No serious breach is conceivable." He went on quite
earnestly: "Mr. Page, after any policy or plan is thought out on its
merits my next thought always is how it may affect our relations with
the United States. That is always a fundamental consideration."

I ventured to say that if he would keep our relations smooth on the
surface, I'd guarantee their stability at the bottom. It's the surface
that rolls high at times, and the danger is there. Keep the surface
smooth and the bottom will take care of itself.

Then he asked about Mexico, as he usually has when I have talked with
him. I gave him as good a report as I could, reminding him of the great
change in the attitude of all Latin-America caused by the President's
patient policy with Mexico. When he said, "Mexico is a bad problem," I
couldn't resist the impulse to reply: "When Mexico troubles you, think
of--Ireland. As there are persons in England who concern themselves with
Mexico, so there are persons in the United States who concern themselves
about Ireland. Ireland and Mexico have each given trouble for two
centuries. Yet these people talk about them as if they could remove all
trouble in a month."

"Quite true," he said, and smiled himself into silence. Then he talked
about more or less frivolous subjects; and, as always, he asked about
Mr. Bryan and Mr. Roosevelt, "alike now, I suppose, in their present
obscure plight." I told him I was going from his house to the House of
Lords to see Sir Edward Grey metamorphosed into Viscount Grey of
Fallodon.

"The very stupidest of the many stupid ceremonies that we have," said
he--very truly.

He spoke of my "onerous duties" and so on and so on--tut, tut! talk that
gets nowhere. But he did say, quite sincerely, I think, that my
frankness called forth frankness and avoided misunderstanding; for he
has said that to other people about me.

Such is the Prime Minister of Great Britain in this supreme crisis in
English history, a remarkable man, of an abnormally quick mind, pretty
nearly a great man, but now a spent force, at once nimble and weary.
History may call him Great. If it do, he will owe this judgment to the
war, with the conduct of which his name will be forever associated.


II

Mr. and Mrs. Page's homecoming was a tragedy. They sailed from Liverpool
on August 3rd, and reached New York on the evening of August 11th. But
sad news awaited them upon the dock. About two months previously their
youngest son, Frank, had been married to Miss Katherine Sefton, of
Auburn, N.Y., and the young couple had settled down in Garden City, Long
Island. That was the summer when the epidemic of infantile paralysis
swept over the larger part of the United States. The young bride was
stricken; the case was unusually rapid and unusually severe; at the
moment of the Pages' arrival, they were informed that there was
practically no hope; and Mrs. Frank Page died at two o'clock on the
afternoon of the following day. The Pages had always been a particularly
united and happy family; this was the first time that they had suffered
from any domestic sorrow of this kind, and the Ambassador was so
affected that it was with difficulty that he could summon himself for
the task that lay ahead.

In a few days, however, he left for Washington. He has himself
described his experience at the Capital in words that must inevitably
take their place in history. To appreciate properly the picture which
Page gives, it must be remembered that the city and the officialdom
which he portrays are the same city and the same men who six months
afterward declared war on Germany. When Page reached Washington, the
Presidential campaign was in full swing, with Mr. Wilson as the
Democratic candidate and Mr. Charles E. Hughes as the Republican. But
another crisis was absorbing the nation's attention: the railway unions,
comprising practically all the 2,000,000 railway employees in the United
States, were threatening to strike--ostensibly for an eight-hour day, in
reality for higher wages.

_Mr. Page's memorandum of his visit to Washington in August, 1916_

The President was very courteous to me, in his way. He invited me to
luncheon the day after I arrived. Present: the President, Mrs. Wilson,
Miss Bones, Tom Bolling, his brother-in-law, and I. The conversation was
general and in the main jocular. Not a word about England, not a word
about a foreign policy or foreign relations.

He explained that the threatened railway strike engaged his whole mind.
I asked to have a talk with him when his mind should be free. Would I
not go off and rest and come back?--I preferred to do my minor errands
with the Department, but I should hold myself at his convenience and at
his command.

Two weeks passed. Another invitation to lunch. Sharp, the Ambassador to
France, had arrived. He, too, was invited. Present: the President, Mrs.
Wilson, Mrs. Wallace, the Misses Smith of New Orleans, Miss Bones,
Sharp, and I. Not one word about foreign affairs.

After luncheon, the whole party drove to the Capitol, where the
President addressed Congress on the strike, proposing legislation to
prevent it and to forestall similar strikes. It is a simple ceremony and
somewhat impressive. The Senators occupy the front seats in the House,
the Speaker presides and the President of the Senate sits on his right.
An escorting committee is sent out to bring the President in. He walks
to the clerk's or reader's desk below the presiding officer's, turns and
shakes hands with them both and then proceeds to read his speech, very
clearly and audibly. Some passages were applauded. When he had done, he
again shook hands with the presiding officer and went out, preceded and
followed by the White House escort. I sat in the Presidential (or
diplomatic?) gallery with the White House party, higgledy-piggledy.

The speech ended, the President drove to the White House with his escort
in his car. The crowds in the corridors and about the doors waited and
crowded to see Mrs. Wilson, quite respectful but without order or
discipline. We had to push our way through them. Now and then a
policeman at a distance would yell loudly, "Make way there!"

When we reached the White House, I asked the doorman if the President
had arrived.

"Yes."

"Does he expect me to go in and say good-bye?"

"No."

Thus he had no idea of talking with me now, if ever. Not at lunch nor
after did he suggest a conversation about American-British affairs or
say anything about my seeing him again.

This threatened strike does hold his whole mind--bothers him greatly.
It seems doubtful if he can avert a general strike. The Republicans are
trying "to put him in a political hole," and they say he, too, is
playing politics. Whoever be to blame for it, it is true that politics
is in the game. Nobody seems to foresee who will make capital out of it.
Surely I can't.

There's no social sense at the White House. The President has at his
table family connections only--and they say few or no distinguished men
and women are invited, except the regular notables at the set
dinners--the diplomatic, the judiciary, and the like. His table is his
private family affair--nothing more. It is very hard to understand why
so intellectual a man doesn't have notable men about him. It's the
college professor's village habit, I dare say. But it's a great
misfortune. This is one way in which Mr. Wilson shuts out the world and
lives too much alone, feeding only on knowledge and subjects that he has