necessary anti-submarine craft to this side.
There are at least seventeen more destroyers employed on our
Atlantic coast, _where there is no war_, not to mention numerous
other very useful anti-submarine craft, including sea-going tugs,
etc.

Can you not do something to bring our Government to an
understanding of how very serious the situation is? Would it not be
well to send another telegram to Mr. Lansing and the President, and
also send them the enclosed correspondence?

I am sending this by mail because I may be somewhat delayed in
returning to London.

Very sincerely yours,

Wm. S. Sims.

Page immediately acted on this suggestion.

_Most confidential for the Secretary of State and President only_

Sims sends me by special messenger from Queenstown the most
alarming reports of the submarine situation which are confirmed by
the Admiralty here. He says that the war will be won or lost in
this submarine zone within a few months. Time is of the essence of
the problem, and anti-submarine craft which cannot be assembled in
the submarine zone almost immediately may come too late. There is,
therefore, a possibility that this war may become a war between
Germany and the United States alone. Help is far more urgently and
quickly needed in this submarine zone than anywhere else in the
whole war area.

Page.

The United States had now been in the war for three months and only
twenty-eight of the sixty destroyers which were available had been sent
into the field. Yet this latest message of Page produced no effect, and,
when Admiral Sims returned from Queenstown, the two men, almost in
despair, consulted as to the step which they should take next. What was
the matter? Was it that Washington did not care to get into the naval
war with its full strength, or was it that it simply refused to believe
the representations of its Admiral and its Ambassador? Admiral Sims and
Page went over the whole situation and came to the conclusion that
Washington regarded them both as so pro-British that their reports were
subject to suspicion. Just as Page had found that the State Department,
and its "trade advisers," had believed that the British were using the
blockade as a means of destroying American trade for the benefit of
Britain, so now he believed that Mr. Daniels and Admiral Benson, the
Chief of Naval Operations, evidently thought that Great Britain was
attempting to lure American warships into European waters, to undergo
the risk of protecting British commerce, while British warships were
kept safely in harbour. Page suggested that there was now only one thing
left to do, and that was to request the British Government itself to
make a statement to President Wilson that would substantiate his own
messages.

"Whatever else they think of the British in Washington," he said, "they
know one thing--and that is that a British statesman like Mr. Balfour
will not lie."

Mr. Balfour by this time had returned from America. The fact that he had
established these splendid personal relations with Mr. Wilson, and that
he had impressed the American public so deeply with his sincerity and
fine purpose, made him especially valuable for this particular appeal.
Page and Admiral Sims therefore went to the Foreign Office and laid all
the facts before him. Their own statements, Page informed the Foreign
Secretary, were evidently regarded as hysterical and biased by an
unreasoning friendliness to Great Britain. If Mr. Balfour would say the
same things over his own signature, then they would not be disbelieved.

Mr. Balfour gladly consented. He called in Admiral Jellicoe and asked
him to draft a despatch, so that all the technical facts would be
completely accurate. He also consulted with Sir Edward Carson, the First
Lord of the Admiralty. Then Mr. Balfour put the document in its final
shape and signed it. It was as follows:

_Mr. Balfour to the President_

June 30, 1917.

The forces at present at the disposal of the British Admiralty are
not adequate to protect shipping from submarine attack in the
danger zone round the British Islands. Consequently shipping is
being sunk at a greater rate than it can be replaced by new tonnage
of British origin.

The time will come when, if the present rate of loss continues, the
available shipping, apart from American contribution, will be
insufficient to bring to this country sufficient foodstuffs and
other essentials, including oil fuel. The situation in regard to
our Allies, France, and Italy, is much the same.

Consequently, it is absolutely necessary to add to our forces as a
first step, pending the adoption or completion of measures which
will, it is hoped, eventually lead to the destruction of enemy
submarines at a rate sufficient to ensure safety of our sea
communications.

The United States is the only allied country in a position to help.
The pressing need is for armed small craft of every kind available
in the area where commerce concentrates near the British and French
coasts. Destroyers, submarines, gunboats, yachts, trawlers, and
tugs would all give invaluable help, and if sent in sufficient
numbers would undoubtedly save a situation which is manifestly
critical. But they are required now and in as great numbers as
possible. There is no time for delay. The present method of
submarine attack is almost entirely by torpedo with the submarine
submerged. The gun defense of merchant ships keeps the submarine
below the surface but does no more; offensively against a submerged
submarine it is useless, and the large majority of the ships
torpedoed never see the attacking submarine until the torpedo has
hit the ship[62].

The present remedy is, therefore, to prevent the submarine from
using its periscope for fear of attack by bomb or ram from small
craft, and this method of defense for the shipping and offense
against the submarine requires small craft in very large numbers.

The introduction of the convoy system, provided there are
sufficient destroyers to form an adequate screen to the convoy,
will, it is hoped, minimize losses when it is working, and the
provision of new offensive measures is progressing; but for the
next few months there is only one safeguard, viz., the immediate
addition to patrols of every small vessel that can possibly be sent
to European waters.

Page, moreover, kept up his own appeal:

_To the President_

July 5th.

_Strictly confidential to the President and the Secretary_

The British Cabinet is engaging in a threatening controversy about
the attitude which they should take toward the submarine peril.
There is a faction in the Admiralty which possesses the
indisputable facts and which takes a very disheartening view of
the situation. This group insists that the Cabinet should make a
confession at least to us of the full extent of the danger and that
it should give more information to the public. The public does not
feel great alarm simply because it has been kept in too great
ignorance. But the political faction is so far the stronger. It
attempts to minimize the facts, and, probably for political
reasons, it refuses to give these discouraging facts wide
publicity. The politicians urge that it is necessary to conceal the
full facts from the Germans. They also see great danger in throwing
the public into a panic.

Mr. Lloyd George is always optimistic and he is too much inclined
to yield his judgment to political motives. In his recent address
in Glasgow he gave the public a comforting impression of the
situation. But the facts do not warrant the impression which he
gave.

This dispute among the political factions is most unfortunate and
it may cause an explosion of public feeling at any time. Changes in
the Cabinet may come in consequence. If the British public knew all
the facts or if the American people knew them, the present British
Government would probably fall. It is therefore not only the
submarine situation which is full of danger. The political
situation is in a dangerous state also.

PAGE.


_To Arthur W. Page_


Wilsford Manor, Salisbury,

July 8, 1917.

DEAR ARTHUR:

Since admirals and generals began to come from home, they and the
war have taken my time so completely, day and night, that I haven't
lately written you many things that I should like to tell you. I'll
try here--a house of a friend of ours where the only other guest
besides your mother and me is Edward Grey. This is the first time
I've seen him since he left office. Let me take certain big
subjects in order and come to smaller things later:

1. The German submarines are succeeding to a degree that the public
knows nothing about. These two things are true: (a) The Germans are
building submarines faster than the English sink them. In this way,
therefore, they are steadily gaining. (b) The submarines are
sinking freight ships faster than freight ships are being built by
the whole world. In this way, too, then, the Germans are
succeeding. Now if this goes on long enough, the Allies' game is
up. For instance, they have lately sunk so many fuel oil ships,
that this country may very soon be in a perilous condition--even
the Grand Fleet may not have enough fuel. Of course the chance is
that oil ships will not continue to fall victims to the U-boats and
we shall get enough through to replenish the stock. But this
illustrates the danger, and it is a very grave danger.

The best remedy so far worked out is the destroyer. The submarines
avoid destroyers and they sink very, very few ships that are
convoyed. If we had destroyers enough to patrol the whole approach
(for, say, 250 miles) to England, the safety of the sea would be
very greatly increased; and if we had enough to patrol and to
convoy every ship going and coming, the damage would be reduced to
a minimum. The Admiral and I are trying our best to get our
Government to send over 500 improvised destroyers--yachts,
ocean-going tugs--any kind of swift craft that can be armed. Five
hundred such little boats might end the war in a few months; for
the Germans are keeping the spirit of their people and of their
army up by their submarine success. If that success were stopped
they'd have no other cry half so effective. If they could see this
in Washington as we see it, they'd do it and do it not halfway but
with a vengeance. If they don't do it, the war may be indefinitely
prolonged and a wholly satisfactory peace may never be made. The
submarine is the most formidable thing the war has produced--by
far--and it gives the German the only earthly chance he has to win.
And he _may_ substantially win by it yet. That's what the British
conceal. In fact, half of them do not see it or believe it. But
nothing is truer, or plainer. One hundred thousand submarine
chasers next year may be worth far less than 500 would be worth
now, for next year see how few ships may be left! The mere arming
of ships is not enough. Nearly all that are sunk are armed. The
submarine now carries a little periscope and a big one, each
painted the colour of the sea. You can't see a little periscope
except in an ocean as smooth as glass. It isn't bigger than a
coffee cup. The submarine thus sinks its victims without ever
emerging or ever being seen. As things now stand, the Germans are
winning the war, and they are winning it on the sea; that's the
queer and the most discouraging fact. My own opinion is that all
the facts ought to be published to all the world. Let the Germans
get all the joy they can out of the confession. No matter, if the
Government and the people of the United States knew all the facts,
we'd have 1,000 improvised destroyers (yachts, tugs, etc., etc.)
armed and over here very quickly. Then the tide would turn.

Then there'd be nothing to fear in the long run. For the military
authorities all agree that the German Army is inferior to the
British and French and will be whipped. That may take a long time
yet; but of the result nobody who knows seems to have any
doubt--unless the French get tired and stop. They have periods of
great war weariness and there is real danger that they may quit and
make a separate peace. General Pershing's presence has made the
situation safe for the moment. But in a little while something else
spectacular and hopeful may be required to keep them in line.

Such is an accurate picture of the war as it is now, and it is a
dangerous situation.

2. The next grave danger is financial. The European Allies have so
bled the English for money that the English would by this time
probably have been on a paper money basis (and of course all the
Allies as well) if we had not come to their financial aid. And
we've got to keep our financial aid going to them to prevent this
disastrous result. That wouldn't at once end the war, if they had
all abandoned specie payments; but it would be a frightfully severe
blow and it might later bring defeat. That is a real danger. And
the Government at Washington, I fear, does not know the full extent
of the danger. They think that the English are disposed to lie down
on them. They don't realize the cost of the war. This Government
has bared all this vast skeleton to me; but I fear that Washington
imagines that part of it is a deliberate scare. It's a very real
danger.

Now, certain detached items:

Sims is the idol of the British Admiralty and he is doing his job
just as well as any man could with the tools and the chance that he
has. He has made the very best of the chance and he has completely
won the confidence and admiration of this side of the world.

Pershing made an admirable impression here, and in France he has
simply set them wild with joy. His coming and his little army have
been worth what a real army will be worth later. It is well he came
to keep the French in line.

The army of doctors and nurses have had a similar effect.

Even the New England saw-mill units have caused a furor of
enthusiasm. They came with absolute Yankee completeness of
organization--with duplicate parts of all their machinery, tents,
cooks, pots, and pans, and everything ship-shape. The only question
they asked was: "Say, where the hell are them trees you want sawed
up?" That's the way to do a job! Yankee stock is made high here by
such things as that.

We're getting a crowd of Yankee lecturers on the United States to
go up and down this Kingdom. There's the greatest imaginable
curiosity to hear about the United States in all kinds of society
from munition workers to universities. I got the British Government
to write Buttrick[63] to come as its guest, and the Rockefeller
Boards rose to the occasion. He'll probably be along presently. If
he hasn't already sailed when you get this, see him and tell him to
make arrangements to have pictures sent over to him to illustrate
his lectures. Who else could come to do this sort of a job?

I am myself busier than I have ever been. The kind of work the
Embassy now has to do is very different from the work of the days
of neutrality. It continues to increase--especially the work that I
have to do myself. But it's all pleasant now. We are trying to help
and no longer to hinder. To save my life I don't see how the
Washington crowd can look at themselves in a mirror and keep their
faces straight. Yesterday they were bent on sending everything into
European neutral states. The foundations of civilization would give
way if neutral trade were interfered with. Now, nothing must go in
except on a ration basis. Yesterday it must be a peace without
victory. Now it must be a complete victory, every man and every
dollar thrown in, else no peace is worth having. I don't complain.
I only rejoice. But I'm glad that kind of a rapid change is not a
part of my record. The German was the same beast yesterday that he
is to-day; and it makes a simple-minded, straight-minded man like
me wonder which attitude was the (or is the) attitude of real
conviction. But this doesn't bother me now as a real problem--only
as a speculation. What we call History will, I presume, in time
work this out. But History is often a kind of lie. But never mind
that. The only duty of mankind now is to win. Other things can
wait.

I walked over to Stonehenge and back (about six miles) with Lord
Grey (Sir Edward, you know) and we, like everybody else, fell to
talking about when the war may end. We know as well as anybody and
no better than anybody else. I have very different moods about
it--no convictions. It seems to me to depend, as things now are,
more on the submarines than on anything else. If we could
effectually discourage them so that the Germans would have to
withdraw them and could no more keep up the spirit of their people
by stories of the imminent starvation of England, I have a feeling
that the hunger and the war weariness of the German people would
lead them to force an end. But, the more they are called on to
suffer the more patriotic do they think themselves and they _may_
go on till they drop dead in their tracks.

What I am really afraid of is that the Germans may, before winter,
offer all that the Western Allies most want--the restoration of
Belgium and France, the return of Alsace-Lorraine, etc., in the
West and the surrender of the Colonies--provided Austria is not
dismembered. That would virtually leave them the chance to work out
their Middle Europe scheme and ultimately there'd probably have to
be another war over that question. That's the real eventuality to
be feared--a German defeat in the West but a German victory in the
Southeast. Everybody in Europe is so war weary that such a plan
_may_ succeed.

On the other hand, what Hoover and Northcliffe fear may come
true--that the Germans are going to keep up the struggle for
years--till their armies are practically obliterated, as Lee's army
was. If the Allies were actually to kill (not merely wound, but
actually kill) 5,000 Germans a day for 300 days a year, it would
take about four years to obliterate the whole German Army. There is
the bare possibility, therefore, of a long struggle yet. But I
can't believe it. My dominant mood these days is an end within a
very few months after the submarines are knocked out. Send over,
therefore, 1,000 improvised destroyers the next two months, and
I'll promise peace by Christmas. Otherwise I can make no promises.
That's all that Lord Grey and I know, and surely we are two wise
men. What, therefore, is the use in writing any more about this?

The chief necessity that grows upon me is that all the facts must
be brought out that show the kinship in blood and ideals of the two
great English-speaking nations. We were actually coming to believe
ourselves that we were part German and Slovene and Pole and
What-not, instead of essentially being Scotch and English. Hence
the unspeakable impudence of your German who spoke of eliminating
the Anglo-Saxon element from American life! The truth should be
forcibly and convincingly told and repeated to the end of the
chapter, and our national life should proceed on its natural
historic lines, with its proper historic outlook and background. We
can do something to bring this about.

Affectionately,

W.H.P.

The labour of getting the American Navy into the war was evidently at
first a difficult one, but the determination of Page and Admiral Sims
triumphed, and, by August and September, our energies were fully
engaged. And the American Navy made a record that will stand
everlastingly to its glory. Without its help the German submarines could
never have been overcome.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 58: The reference is to the attack made in October, 1916, by
the German Submarine U-53, off Nantucket on several British ships. An
erroneous newspaper account said that the _Benham_, an American
destroyer, had moved in a way that facilitated the operations of the
German submarine. This caused great bitterness in England, until Page
showed the Admiralty a report from the Navy Department proving that the
story was false.]

[Footnote 59: This, of course, is Franklin D. Roosevelt, Assistant
Secretary of the Navy in 1917.]

[Footnote 60: This letter is dated London and was probably begun there.
It is evident, however, that the latter part was written at Brighton,
where the Ambassador was taking a brief holiday.]

[Footnote 61: This was a long document describing conditions in great
detail.]

[Footnote 62: The Navy Department had taken the position that arming
merchantmen was the best protection against the submarine. This
statement was intended to refute this belief.]

[Footnote 63: Dr. Wallace Buttrick, President of the General Education
Board, who was sent at this time to deliver lectures throughout Great
Britain on the United States.]




CHAPTER XXIII

PAGE--THE MAN


The entrance of America into the war, followed by the successful
promotion of the Balfour visit, brought a period of quiet into Page's
life. These events represented for him a personal triumph; there were
many things still to be done, it is true, and Page, as always, was
active in advancing the interests that were nearest his heart; yet the
mighty relief that followed the American declaration was the kind that
one experiences after accomplishing the greatest task of a lifetime.
Page's letters have contained many references to the sense of moral
isolation which his country's policy had forced upon him; he probably
exaggerated his feeling that there was a tendency to avoid him; this was
merely a reflection of his own inclination to keep away from all but the
official people. He now had more leisure and certainly more interest in
cultivating the friends that he had made in Great Britain. For the fact
is that, during all these engrossing years, Page had been more than an
Ambassador; by the time the United States entered the war he had
attained an assured personal position in the life of the British
capital. He had long since demonstrated his qualifications for a post,
which, in the distinction of the men who have occupied it, has few
parallels in diplomacy. The scholarly Lowell, the courtly Bayard, the
companionable Hay, the ever-humorous Choate, had set a standard for
American Ambassadors which had made the place a difficult one for their
successors. Though Page had characteristics in common with all these
men, his personality had its own distinctive tang; and it was something
new to the political and social life of London. And the British capital,
which is extremely exacting and even merciless in its demands upon its
important personages, had found it vastly entertaining. "I didn't know
there could be anything so American as Page except Mark Twain," a
British literary man once remarked; and it was probably this strong
American quality, this directness and even breeziness of speech and of
method, this absence of affectation, this almost openly expressed
contempt for finesse and even for tradition, combined with those other
traits which we like to think of as American--an upright purpose, a
desire to serve not only his own country but mankind--which made the
British public look upon Page as one of the most attractive and useful
figures in a war-torn Europe.

There was a certain ruggedness in Page's exterior which the British
regarded as distinctly in keeping with this American flavour. The
Ambassador was not a handsome man. To one who had heard much of the
liveliness of his conversation and presence a first impression was
likely to be disappointing. His figure at this time was tall, gaunt, and
lean--and he steadily lost weight during his service in England; his
head was finely shaped--it was large, with a high forehead, his thin
gray hair rather increasing its intellectual aspect; and his big frank
brown eyes reflected that keen zest for life, that unsleeping interest
in everything about him, that ever-working intelligence and sympathy
which were the man's predominant traits. But a very large nose at first
rather lessened the pleasing effects of his other features, and a rather
weather-beaten, corrugated face gave a preliminary suggestion of
roughness. Yet Page had only to begin talking and the impression
immediately changed. "He puts his mind to yours," Dr. Johnson said,
describing the sympathetic qualities of a friend, and the same was true
of Page. Half a dozen sentences, spoken in his quick, soft, and
ingratiating accents, accompanied by the most genial smile, at once
converted the listener into a friend. Few men have ever lived who more
quickly responded to this human relationship. The Ambassador, at the
simple approach of a human being, became as a man transformed. Tired
though he might be, low in spirits as he not infrequently was, the press
of a human hand at once changed him into an animated and radiating
companion. This responsiveness deceived all his friends in the days of
his last illness. His intimates who dropped in to see Page invariably
went away much encouraged and spread optimistic reports about his
progress. A few minutes' conversation with Page would deceive even his
physicians. The explanation was a simple one: the human presence had an
electric effect upon him, and it is a revealing sidelight on Page's
character that almost any man or woman could produce this result. As an
editor, the readiness with which he would listen to suggestions from the
humblest source was a constant astonishment to his associates. The
office boy had as accessible an approach to Page as had his partners. He
never treated an idea, even a grotesque one, with contempt; he always
had time to discuss it, to argue it out, and no one ever left his
presence thinking that he had made an absurd proposal. Thus Page had a
profound respect for a human being simply because he was a human being;
the mere fact that a man, woman, or child lived and breathed, had his
virtues and his failings, constituted in Page's imagination a tremendous
fact. He could not wound such a living creature any more than he could
wound a flower or a tree; consequently he treated every person as an
important member of the universe. Not infrequently, indeed, he stormed
at public men, but his thunder, after all, was not very terrifying; his
remarks about such personages as Mr. Bryan merely reflected his
indignation at their policies and their influence but did not indicate
any feeling against the victims themselves. Page said "Good morning" to
his doorman with the same deference that he showed to Sir Edward Grey,
and there was not a little stenographer in the building whose joys and
sorrows did not arouse in him the most friendly interest. Some of the
most affecting letters written about Page, indeed, have come from these
daily associates of more humble station. "We so often speak of Mr.
Page," writes one of the Embassy staff--"Findlater, Short, and
Frederick"--these were all English servants at the Embassy; "we all
loved him equally, and hardly a day passes that something does not
remind us of him, and I often fancy that I hear his laugh, so full of
kindness and love of life." And the impression left on those in high
position was the same. "I have seen ladies representing all that is most
worldly in Mayfair," writes Mr. Ellery Sedgwick, the editor of the
_Atlantic Monthly_, "start at the sudden thought of Page's illness,
their eyes glistening with tears."

Perhaps what gave most charm to this human side was the fact that Page
was fundamentally such a scholarly man. This was the aspect which
especially delighted his English friends. He preached democracy
and Americanism with an emphasis that almost suggested the
back-woodsman--the many ideas on these subjects that appear in his
letters Page never hesitated to set forth with all due resonance at
London dinner tables--yet he phrased his creed in language that was
little less than literary style, and illuminated it with illustrations
and a philosophy that were the product of the most exhaustive reading.
"Your Ambassador has taught us something that we did not know before,"
an English friend remarked to an American. "That is that a man can be a
democrat and a man of culture at the same time." The Greek and Latin
authors had been Page's companions from the days when, as the holder of
the Greek Fellowship at Johns Hopkins, he had been a favourite pupil of
Basil L. Gildersleeve. British statesmen who had been trained at
Balliol, in the days when Greek was the indispensable ear-mark of a
gentleman, could thus meet their American associate on the most
sympathetic terms. Page likewise spoke a brand of idiomatic English
which immediately put him in a class by himself. He regarded words as
sacred things. He used them, in his writing or in his speech, with the
utmost care and discrimination; yet this did not result in a halting or
stilted style; he spoke with the utmost ease, going rapidly from thought
to thought, choosing invariably the one needful word, lighting up the
whole with whimsicalities all his own, occasionally emphasizing a good
point by looking downward and glancing over his eyeglasses, perhaps, if
he knew his companion intimately, now and then giving him a monitory tap
on the knee. Page, in fact, was a great and incessant talker; hardly
anything delighted him more than a companionable exchange of ideas and
impressions; he was seldom so busy that he would not push aside his
papers for a chat; and he would talk with almost any one, on almost any
subject--his secretaries, his stenographers, his office boys, and any
crank who succeeded in getting by the doorman--for, in spite of his
lively warnings against the breed, Page did really love cranks and took
a collector's joy in uncovering new types. Page's voice was normally
quiet; though he had spent all his early life in the South, the
characteristic Southern accents were ordinarily not observable; yet his
intonation had a certain gentleness that was probably an inheritance of
his Southern breeding. Thus, when he first began talking, his words
would ripple along quietly and rapidly; a characteristic pose was to sit
calmly, with one knee thrown over the other, his hands folded; as his
interest increased, however, he would get up, perhaps walk across the
room, or stand before the fireplace, his hands behind his back; a large
cigar, sometimes unlighted, at other times emitting huge clouds of
smoke, would oscillate from one side of his mouth to the other; his talk
would grow in earnestness, his voice grow louder, his words come faster
and faster, until finally they would gush forth in a mighty torrent.

All Page's personal traits are explained by that one characteristic
which tempered all others, his sense of humour. That Page was above all
a serious-minded man his letters show; yet his spirits were constantly
alert for the amusing, the grotesque, and the contradictory; like all
men who are really serious and alive to the pathos of existence, he
loved a hearty laugh, especially as he found it a relief from the gloom
that filled his every waking moment in England. Page himself regarded
this ability to smile as an indispensable attribute to a well-rounded
life. "No man can be a gentleman," he once declared, "who does not have
a sense of humour." Only he who possessed this gift, Page believed, had
an imaginative insight into the failings and the virtues of his
brothers; only he could have a tolerant attitude toward the stupidities
of his fellows, to say nothing of his own. And humour with him assumed
various shades; now it would flash in an epigram, or smile indulgently
at a passing human weakness; now and then it would break out into genial
mockery; occasionally it would manifest itself as sheer horse-play; and
less frequently it would become sardonic or even savage. It was in this
latter spirit that he once described a trio of Washington statesmen,
whose influence he abhorred as, "three minds that occupy a single
vacuum." He once convulsed a Scottish audience by describing the
national motto of Scotland--and doing so with a broad burr in his voice
that seemed almost to mark the speaker a native to the heath--as
"Liber-r-ty, fra-a-ternity and f-r-r-u-gality." The policy of his
country occasioned many awkward moments which, thanks to his talent for
amiable raillery, he usually succeeded in rendering harmless. Not
infrequently Page's fellow guests at the dinner table would think the
American attitude toward Germany a not inappropriate topic for small
talk. "Mr. Page," remarked an exaltedly titled lady in a conversational
pause, "when is your country going to get into the war?" The more
discreet members of the company gasped, but Page was not disturbed.
"Please give us at least ninety days," he answered, and an exceedingly
disagreeable situation was thus relieved by general laughter.

On another occasion his repudiation of this flippant spirit took a more
solemn and even more effective form. The time was a few days before the
United States had declared war. Bernstorff had been dismissed; events
were rapidly rushing toward the great climax; yet the behaviour of the
Washington Administration was still inspiring much caustic criticism.
The Pages were present at one of the few dinners which they attended in
the course of this crisis; certain smart and tactless guests did not
seem to regard their presence as a bar to many gibes against the
American policy. Page sat through it all impassive, never betraying the
slightest resentment.

Presently the ladies withdrew. Page found himself sitting next to Mr.
Harold Nicolson, an important official in the Foreign Office. It so
happened that Mr. Nicolson and Page were the only two members of the
company who were the possessors of a great secret which made ineffably
silly all the chatter that had taken place during the dinner; this was
that the United States had decided on war against Germany and would
issue the declaration in a few days.

"Well, Mr. Nicolson," said Page, "I think that you and I will drink a
glass of wine together."

The two men quietly lifted their glasses and drank the silent toast.
Neither made the slightest reference to the forthcoming event. Perhaps
the other men present were a little mystified, but in a few days they
understood what it had meant, and also learned how effectively they had
been rebuked.

"Is it any wonder," says Mr. Nicolson, telling this story, "that I think
that Mr. Page is perhaps the greatest gentleman I have ever known? He
has only one possible competitor for this distinction--and that is
Arthur Balfour."

The English newspapers took delight in printing Page's aphorisms, and
several anecdotes that came from America afforded them especial joy. One
went back to the days when the Ambassador was editor of the _Atlantic
Monthly_. A woman contributor had sent him a story; like most literary
novices she believed that editors usually rejected the manuscripts of
unknown writers without reading them. She therefore set a trap for Page
by pasting together certain sheets. The manuscript came back promptly,
and, as the prospective contributor had hoped, these sheets had not been
disturbed. These particular sections had certainly not been read. The
angry author triumphantly wrote to Page, explaining how she had caught
him and denouncing the whole editorial tribe as humbugs. "Dear Madam,"
Page immediately wrote in reply, "when I break an egg at breakfast, I do
not have to eat the whole of it to find out that it is bad." Page's
treatment of authors, however, was by no means so acrimonious as this
little note might imply. Indeed, the urbanity and consideration shown in
his correspondence with writers had long been a tradition in American
letters. The remark of O. Henry in this regard promises to become
immortal: "Page could reject a story with a letter that was so
complimentary," he said, "and make everybody feel so happy that you
could take it to a bank and borrow money on it."

Another anecdote reminiscent of his editorial days was his retort to
S.S. McClure, the editor of _McClure's Magazine_.

"Page," said Mr. McClure, "there are only three great editors in the
United States."

"Who's the third one, Sam?" asked Page.

Plenty of stories, illustrating Page's quickness and aptness in retort,
have gathered about his name in England. Many of them indicate a mere
spirit of boyish fun. Early in his Ambassadorship he was spending a few
days at Stratford-on-Avon, his hostess being an American woman who had
beautifully restored an Elizabethan house; the garden contained a
mulberry tree which she liked to think had been planted by Shakespeare
himself. The dignitaries of Stratford, learning that the American
Ambassador had reached town, asked permission to wait upon him; the Lord
Mayor, who headed the procession, made an excellent speech, to which
Page appropriately replied, and several hundred people were solemnly
presented. After the party had left Page turned to his hostess:

"Have they all gone?"

"Yes."

"All?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then let's take hands and dance around the mulberry tree!"

Page was as good as his word; he danced as gaily as the youngest member
of the party, to the singing of the old English song.

The great service in St. Paul's Cathedral, in commemoration of America's
entry into the war, has already been described. A number of wounded
Americans, boys whose zeal for the Allies had led them to enlist in the
Canadian Army, were conspicuous participants in this celebration. After
the solemn religious ceremonies, the Ambassador and these young men
betook themselves for lunch to a well-known London restaurant. In an
interval of the conversation one of the Americans turned to Page.

"Mr. Ambassador, there was just one thing wrong with that service."

"What was that?"

"We wanted to yell, and we couldn't."

"Then why don't you yell now?"

The boy jumped on a chair and began waving his napkin. "The Ambassador
says we may yell," he cried. "Let's yell!"

"And so," said Page, telling the story, "they yelled for five minutes
and I yelled with them. We all felt better in consequence."