Title: Autobiography of Andrew Dickson White — Volume 2
Author: White, Andrew Dickson
Language: English
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Autobiography of Andrew Dickson White  Volume II

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANDREW DICKSON WHITE

VOLUME II



TABLE OF CONTENTS


PART V-IN THE DIPLOMATIC SERVICE (Continued)

CHAPTER XXXIII. AS MINISTER TO RUSSIA--1892-1894

Appointment by President Harrison. My stay in
London Lord Rothschild; his view of Russian treatment of the
Jews. Sir Julian Goldschmidt; impression made by him. Paris; the
Vicomte de Vogue; funeral of Renan; the Duke de la Rochefoucauld.
Our Minister, William Walter Phelps, and others at Berlin; talk
with Count Shuvaloff. Arrival in St. Petersburg. Deadening
influences: paralysis of energy as seen on the railways; little
apparent change in externals since my former visit; change
wrought by emancipation of the serfs. Improvement in the
surroundings of the Emperor. Visit to the Foreign Office.
Presentation to Alexander III; his view of the Behring Sea
Question; his acquiescence in the American view; his allusion to
the Chicago Exposition. My conversation with the Archbishop of
Warsaw. Conversation with the Empress; her reference to the Rev.
Dr. Talmage. Impression made upon me by the Emperor. My
presentation to the heir to the Throne, now the Emperor Nicholas
II; his evident limitations; main cause of these. Presentation to
sundry Grand Dukes. A reminiscence of the Grand Duke Michael. The
Grand Dukes Vladimir and Alexis. The diplomatic corps. General
von Schweinitz. Sir Robert Morier; his victory over the United
States at the Paris Arbitration Tribunal; its causes; its
lessons.


CHAPTER XXXIV. INTERCOURSE WITH RUSSIAN STATESMEN--1892-1894

Last days of Sir Robert Morier at St. Petersburg; his last
appearance at Court. Count de Montebello. Husny Pasha.
Marochetti. Count Wolkenstein. Van Stoetwegen and his views
regarding peace in Europe. Pasitch, the Servian Minister; his two
condemnations to death. Contrast between the Chinese and Japanese
representatives. Character of Russian statesmen; their good
qualities; their main defects. Rarity of first-class men among
them; illustrations of this view from The Hague peace programme
and from Russian dealings with Finland and with the Baltic
Provinces. M. de Giers; his love of peace; strong impression made
by him on me. Weakness and worse of Russia in the Behring Sea
matter. Finance Minister De Witte; his strength; his early
history. Difference in view between De Witte and his predecessor
Wischniegradsky. Pobedonostzeff. Dournovo. My experience with the
latter. The shirking of responsibility by leading Russian
officials; their lack of enterprise. An exception; Plehve. One
good example set us by Russia; value placed on Russian, compared
with the cheapening and prostitution of American, citizenship.


CHAPTER XXXV. "ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN" IN
RUSSIA--1892-1894

The "Minister of Public Enlightenment," Delyanoff; his theory and
system. Hostility of sundry Russians to the Russian-Germans;
evident folly of this. Woronzoff-Daschkoff and General Annenkoff.
The Caucasian railways and the annexation of Bokhara. Galkin
Wraskoy and the prison system Orloff Davidoff, "the funniest
thing he saw in America." Professor Demetrieff's account of the
murder of Peter III and of the relation of Catherine II to it.
Prince Serge Wolkonsky; his ability and versatility; his tour de
force at the farewell dinner given me at St. Petersburg; his
lectures in the United States. Russian scientific men. Woeikoff.
Admiral Makharoff. Senator Semenoff and Prince Gregory Galitzin.
Mendeleieff. Two salons. Other attractions. General Ignatieff.
Princess Ourousoff and her answer to Alexander III. Princess
Radzivill. The copy-book used by Louis XIV when a child,
preserved in the Imperial Library; its historical importance. The
American colony at St. Petersburg. Mr. Prince; his reminiscences
of sundry American ministers. Mr. Buchanan's satire on spies, in
the Embassy Archives. Difficulties of the American Representative
arising from his want of a habitation. Diplomatic questions
between the two countries The Behring Sea Fisheries. My dealings
with the Commandant of the Russian Pacific Islands. Success of
Sir Robert Morier; how gained. Worldly wisdom of Great Britain.
Difficulties regarding Israelites; my long despatch on the
subject to Secretary Gresham. Adventurous Americans. Efforts to
prostitute American citizenship. Difficulties arising from the
complicated law of the Empire. Violations of the Buchanan Treaty.
Cholera at St. Petersburg; thorough measures taken by the
Government; death of Tschaikovsky; difficulty in imposing sanitary
regulations upon the peasantry.


CHAPTER XXXVI. MY RECOLLECTIONS OF POBEDONOSTZEFF--1892-1894

My desire to know Pobedonostzeff; his history; his power. Public
business which led to our meeting; his characteristics; reasons
for his course; his view of the relations of the Russo-Greek
Church to the Empire; his frankness in speaking of the Church.
His hostility to Western civilization. His discussion of
revolutionary efforts in Russia. His theory of Russian public
instruction. His ultra-reactionary views. His mingled feelings
regarding Tolstoi. His love for American literature; his
paradoxical admiration for Emerson, his translation of Emerson's
"Essays"; his literary gift. Feeling toward him in Russian
society. His religious character. His esthetic character. Charles
A. Dana's impression of him. Our discussion of possible relations
between the Russian and English Churches; his talks upon
introducing the "Holy Orthodox Church" into the United States.
His treatment of hostile articles in the English Reviews. His
professorial friends. His statements regarding Father Ivan;
miracles by the latter; proofs of their legendary character;
Pobedonostzeff's testimony on the subject.


CHAPTER XXXVII. WALKS AND TALKS WITH TOLSTOI--MARCH, 1894

Moscow revisited. Little change for the better. First visit to
Tolstoi. Curious arrangement of his household. Our first
discussions; condition of the peasants; his view of Quakers;
their "want of logic." His view of Russian religious and general
thought. Socrates as a saint in the Kremlin. His views of the
Jews; of Russian treatment of prisoners. His interest in American
questions. Our visit to the Moscow Museum; his remark on the
pictures for the Cathedral of Kieff; his love for realistic
religious pictures; his depreciation of landscape painting; deep
feeling shown by him before sundry genre pictures. His estimate
of Peter the Great. His acknowledgment of human progress. His
view of the agency of the Czar in maintaining peace. His ideas
regarding French literature; of Maupassant; of Balzac. His views
of American literature and the source of its strength; his
discussion of various American authors and leaders in
philanthropic movements; his amazing answer to my question as to
the greatest of American writers. Our walks together; his
indiscriminate almsgiving; discussion thereupon. His view of
travel. The cause of his main defects. Lack of interchange of
thought in Russia; general result of this. Our visit to the
Kremlin. His views of religion; questions regarding American
women; unfavorable view of feminine character. Our attendance at
a funeral; strange scenes. Further discussion upon religion.
Visit to an "Old Believer"; beauty of his house and its
adornments; his religious fanaticism; its effects on Tolstoi. His
views as to the duty of educated young men in Russia. Further
discussion of American literature. His hope for Russian progress.
His manual labor. His view of Napoleon. His easy-going theory of
warlike operations. Our farewell. Estimate of him. His great
qualities. His sincerity. Cause of his limitations. Personal
characteristics related to these. Evident evolution of his ideas.
Effect of Russian civilization on sundry strong men.


CHAPTER XXXVIII. OFFICIAL LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG--1892-1894

Difficulty in securing accurate information in Russia; the
censorship of newspapers and books; difficulty in ascertaining
the truth on any question; growth of myth and legend in the
Russian atmosphere of secrecy and repression. Difficulties of the
American Minister arising from too great proneness of Americans
to believe Russian stories; typical examples. American
adventurers; a musical apostle; his Russian career. Relation of
the Legation to the Chicago Exposition; crankish requests from
queer people connected with it; danger of their bringing the
Exposition into disrepute; their final suppression. Able and
gifted men and women scattered through Russian society. Russian
hospitality. Brilliant festivities at the Winter Palace; the
Blessing of the Waters; the "palm balls"; comparison of the
Russian with the German Court. Visit of Prince Victor Napoleon to
St. Petersburg; its curious characteristics. Visit of the Ameer
of Bokhara; singular doings of his son and heir. Marriage of the
Grand Duchess Xenia; kindness, at the Peterhof Palace, of an
American "Nubian." Funeral of the Grand Duchess Catherine;
beginnings of the Emperor's last illness then evident. Midnight
mass on Easter eve; beauty of the music. The opera. Midnight
excursions in the northern twilight. Finland and Helsingfors.
Moscow revisited. Visit to the Scandinavian countries.
Confidence reposed in me by President Cleveland. My resignation.


CHAPTER XXXIX. AS MEMBER OF THE VENEZUELAN COMMISSION--1895-1896

The Venezuelan Commission; curious circumstances of my nomination
to it by President Cleveland. Nature of the question to be
decided; its previous evolution. Mr. Cleveland's message. Attacks
upon him; his firmness. Sessions of the Commission; initial
difficulties; solution of them. The old question between the
Netherlands and Spain. Material at our command. Discreditable
features of the first British Blue Book on the subject; British
"fair play" in this and in the Behring Sea question. Distribution
of duties in the Commission. My increased respect for Lord
Aberdeen; boundary line accepted by him, striking confirmation of
his justice and wisdom by the Arbitration Tribunal at Paris.
Triumph of President Cleveland and Secretary Olney. Men whom I
met in Washington. Lord Panncefote. Secretary Carlisle, striking
tribute to him by an eminent Republican; his characteristics.
Vice-President Stevenson; his powers as a raconteur. Senator
Gray and Mr. Olney. Visit with the American Geographical Society
to Monticello; curious evidences there of Jefferson's
peculiarities; beauty of the place. Visit to the University of
Virginia. My increasing respect for the qualities of Mr.
Cleveland.


CHAPTER XL. AS AMBASSADOR TO GERMANY--1897-1903

Nomination by President McKinley. Light thrown upon his methods
by appointments of second secretary and military attache.
Secretary Sherman; his reference to President Johnson's
impeachment. Judge Harlan's reference to Dr. Burchard's
alliteration. Discussions with the German ambassador and others.
Change of the American legation into an embassy; its advantages
and disadvantages. First interview with Emperor William II;
subjects discussed. His reference to Frederick the Great's
musical powers. The Empress; happy change in the attitude of the
people toward her. The Chancellor of the Empire; Prince
Hohenlohe; his peculiarities; his references to Bismarck; his
opinion of Germans. Count von Bulow, Minister of Foreign Affairs,
resemblances between him and his father; his characteristics as
minister and as parliamentary leader. Ambassadorial receptions;
difficulties, mistaken policy of our government regarding
residences for its representatives. Change in German public
opinion toward the United States since my ministerial days; its
causes; evidences of it during Spanish War. Misrepresentations in
German and American papers, and their effects; our own
culpability as shown in the Fessenden case. International
questions; Haitian theory of the Monroe Doctrine. The Samoan
question; furor consularis; missionary squabbles;
reasonableness of Minister von Bulow. Attendance at Parliament;
its characteristics; notes on sundry members; Posadowski;
Richter, Bebel; Barth. The German Parliament House compared with
the New York State Capitol.


CHAPTER XLI. AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE SPANISH WAR--1897-1903

The Chinese question; German part in it; my duties regarding it,
course of President McKinley and Secretary Hay. The exclusion of
American insurance companies; difficulties. American sugar
duties: our wavering policy. The "meat question"; American
illustration of defective German policy. The "fruit question" and
its adjustment. The Spanish-American War; attitude of the German
press; my course under instructions; importance of delaying the
war; conference in Paris with Ambassador Porter and Minister
Woodford; the destruction of the Maine and its effect;
conversation with the Emperor regarding it; his view of it. My
relations with the Spanish ambassador. Visit to Dresden to
present the President's congratulations to the Saxon king;
curious contretemps; festivities. Change in character of
European monarchs since Jefferson's letter to Langdon. The King
of Wurtemberg and Grand Duke of Baden. Notes on sundry pretenders
to European thrones. Course of German Government during our
Spanish War; arrest of Spanish vessel at Hamburg. Good news at
the Leipsic Fourth of July celebration. Difficulties arising in
Germany as the war progressed. The protection of American
citizens abroad; prostitution of American citizenship; examples;
strengthening of the rules against pretended Americans; baseless
praise of Great Britain at the expense of the United States. Duty
of the embassy toward American students; admission of women to
the German universities. Efforts of various compatriots to reach
the Emperor; psychological curiosities. Changes in Berlin since
my former official residence; disappearance of many strong men;
characteristics of sundry survivors; Mommsen; Harnack.


CHAPTER XLII. AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE CHINESE WAR--1899-1902

Ex-President Harrison visits Berlin; attention shown him by the
Emperor and others; change in him since his Washington days.
Difficulty regarding embassy quarters; moral. Bicentenary of the
Royal Academy of Sciences--pomp and ceremony; picturesque
appearance of delegates, conversation with the Emperor on the
subject; his jocose statement of his theory of the monarchy.
Coming of age of the heir to the throne; reception of the Emperor
of Austria-Hungary; gala opera and opinion of the Chinese
minister regarding it; banquet; speeches of the two Emperors.
Characteristics of the Emperor Franz Josef; conversation with
him; his views of American questions; prospects of his Empire.
Visit from the German-American Kriegerverein. Outbreak of the
revolution in China; American policy; commendation of it from
foreign source; my duties relating to it. Fourth of July speech
at Leipsic in 1900. Visit to America; torrid heat at Washington;
new revelation of President McKinley's qualities; his discussion
of public affairs. Two-hundredth anniversary of the Prussian
kingdom, celebration; my official speech; religious ceremonies;
gala opera; remark upon it by the French ambassador. A personal
bereavement. Vacation studies on Fra Paolo Sarpi. Death of the
Empress Frederick; her kindness to me and mine; conversations;
her reminiscences of Queen Vietoria's relations to American
affairs; her funeral.


CHAPTER XLIII. CLOSING YEARS OF MY EMBASSY. BERLIN, YALE, OXFORD,
AND ST. ANDREWS--1901-1903

Assassination of President McKinley; its effect on German
feeling. My peculiar relations with the Chinese minister at
Berlin; our discussions: my advice to China through him; visits
from and to Prince Chun, on his expiatory errand. Visit to Mr.
Andrew Carnegie at Skibo Castle; evidences of kindly British
feeling regarding the death of President McKinley seen during
this English and Scotch journey; life at Skibo. America
revisited; Bicentenary at Yale. Am chosen to honorary membership
in the Royal Academy of Sciences at Berlin. Interview with the
Emperor on my return from America; characteristics of his
conversation; his request to President Roosevelt on New Year's
day, 1902. Emperor's dinner to the American Embassy; departure of
Prince Henry for the United States; the Emperor's remarks upon
the purpose of it. The American "open door" policy; my duties
regarding it. Duties regarding St. Louis Exposition;
difficulties. Short vacation in Italy, my sixth visit to Venice
and new researches regarding Father Paul; Dr. Alexander
Robertson. Return to Berlin; visit of the Shah of Persia and the
Crown Prince of Siam. Am presented by the Emperor to the Crown
Princess of Saxony; her charming manner and later escapade. Work
with President Gilman in behalf of the Carnegie Institution for
Research, at Washington. Death of King Albert of Saxony;
attendance, under instructions, at his funeral; impressive
ceremonial, and long sermon. The new King; impression made by his
conversation. The Dusseldorf Exposition. Attendance as
representative of Yale at the Bodleian Tercentenary at Oxford;
reception of D.C.L. degree; peculiar feature of it; banquet in
Christ Church Hall; failure of my speech. Visit to the University
of St. Andrews; Mr. Carnegie's Rectoral address; curious but vain
attempts by audience to throw him off his guard; his skill in
dealing with them; reception of LL.D. degree. My seventieth
birthday, kindness of friends at Berlin and elsewhere; letters
from President Roosevelt, Mr. Hay, Secretary of State, and
Chancellor von Bulow. My resignation at this time in accordance
with resolution made years before. Final reception by the
Emperor. Farewell celebration with the American Colony and
departure. Stay at Alassio; visits to Elba and Corsica; relics of
Napoleon: curious monument of the vendetta between the Pozzo di
Borgo and Bonaparte families.


CHAPTER XLIV. MY RECOLLECTIONS OF WILLIAM II--1879-1903

My first knowledge of him, his speech as a student at Dusseldorf;
talk with his father and mother regarding it. His appearance at
court; characteristics. His wedding and my first conversation
with him. Opinion regarding him in Berlin. Growth of opinions,
favorable and unfavorable, in America. His dismissal of Bismarck;
effect on public opinion and on my own view. Effect of some of
his speeches. The "Caligula" pamphlet. Sundry epigrams.
Conversation at my first interview with him as Ambassador. His
qualities as a conversationist. His artistic gifts; his love of
music; his dealings with dramatic art. Position of the theater in
Germany. His interest in archaeological investigation; in
education; in city improvements; in improvements throughout the
Empire; sundry talks with him on these subjects. His feeling for
literature-extent of his reading; testimony of those nearest him.
His freedom from fads. His gifts as a statesman; his public and
private discussions of state and international questions: his
thoroughness in dealing with army and navy questions; his
interest in various navies. His broader work; his ability in
selecting men and his strength in standing by them; his relation
to the legislative bodies; his acquaintance with men and things
in all parts of the Empire and outside the Empire. His devotion
to work. His clearness of vision in international questions as
shown in sundry conversations; union of breadth and minuteness in
his views; his large acquaintance with men. His independence of
thought; his view of the Maine catastrophe. His impulsiveness;
good sense beneath it; results of some supposed exceptions. His
ability as a speaker; characteristics. His religious views;
comparison of them with those of Frederick the Great and
Frederick William I; his peculiar breadth of view shown in the
Delitzsch affair; also in his dealings with his Roman Catholic
subjects; treatment of the Strasburg and Metz Bishopric
questions; his skill shown in the Jerusalem church matter His
theory of monarchy; peculiar reasons for it; sundry criticisms of
him in this respect. Feeling of the German people regarding
attacks on the monarch The whole subject as viewed from the
American Democratic standpoint Thomas Jefferson's letter to John
Adams. The Emperor's feeling toward Parliamentary government;
strength he has given it by sundry appointments. His alleged
violations of the German Constitution; doubts regarding them. His
alleged hostility to the United States during the Spanish War and
at other times; facts regarding this charge. Sundry other charges
against him; his dealings with the Venezuela question; excellent
reasons for it. His feeling toward the United States. Summary of
his position in contemporary history.


CHAPTER XLV. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE
CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: I--1899

Proposal of a Conference by Nicholas II. Reasons why the
Netherlands were preferred to Switzerland as its place of
meeting. General misunderstanding as to the Emperor's proposal.
My own skepticism. Resultant feeling regarding the Conference. My
acceptance of the nomination to it. Condition of things on our
arrival at The Hague. First meeting of the American Delegation.
Am chosen its president. General character of our instructions
from Washington. American plan of arbitration. Preliminary
meetings of delegates. The opening session. The "House in the
Wood"; its remarkable characteristics. Proceedings. General
skepticism at first. Baron de Staal as President of the
Conference. Count Nigra. Lord Pauncefote and others. Public
spirit of the Dutch Government. Growth of hope as to a good
result. Difficulties as to disarmament The peace lobby. Queer
letters and crankish proposals. Better ideas. M. de Bloch and his
views. Count Welsersheimb and others. Organization of the
Conference. First decision regarding the publication of our
proceedings. Rumors. Attitude of Count Munster, President of the
German Delegation. Attitude of Russia and sundry other powers
regarding the American proposal for exempting private property
from seizure on the high seas. New instructions sought by us from
Washington. First presentation of the Presidents of Delegations
to the Queen; her conversation. My talk with the British Admiral,
Sir John Fisher. Real and imaginary interviews published in
sundry European papers.


CHAPTER XLVI. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: II--1899

Apparent wavering of Russia regarding an arbitration scheme.
Count Munster's view of the Russian proposals. Social gatherings.
Influx of people with notions, nostrums, and whimsies. First
meeting of the great committee on arbitration. Presentation of
the Russian plan; its serious defects. Successful effort of Sir
Julian Pauncefote to provide for a proper court. Excellent spirit
shown by the Russian delegates. Final character of the American
project for an arbitration plan. Festival given to the Conference
by the Burgomaster and City Council of The Hague. I revisit Delft
after an absence of thirty years; deep impression made upon me by
the tombs of William the Silent and Grotius. Amalgamation of the
Russian, British, and American plans for arbitration. A day in
London. Henry Irving in Sardou's "Robespierre"; good and evil of
the piece; its unhistorical features. Return to The Hague. The
American plan of "Special Mediation" and "Seconding Powers"
favorably received by the Conference. Characteristics of the
amalgamated plan for the Arbitration Tribunal; its results. Visit
from Count Munster; interesting stories of his life as Ambassador
at St. Petersburg; the young German savant rescued from Siberia;
Munster's quarrel with Gortchakoff; his quotation from the old
Grand Duke Michael. Questions in the Conference regarding
asphyxiating bombs, etc. Attitude of the American delegates
Question of the exemption of private property from seizure at
sea; difficulty in getting it before the Conference; earnest
support given us by the Netherlands and other governments. Talk
with the leading Netherlands Delegate, Van Karnebeek. Reasons why
South America was not represented in the Conference. Line of
cleavage between political parties in the Netherlands. Fears of
President McKinley regarding our special mediation proposal.
Continuance of hortatory letters and crankish proposals.
Discussion between American and Russian delegates on a fusion of
various arbitration plans. Difficulties discovered in our own;
alteration in them obtained from the State Department. Support
given by Germany to the American view regarding the exemption of
private property on the high seas.


CHAPTER XLVII. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: III--1899

Festival given to the Conference by the city of Haarlem.
Difficulties encountered by the American proposal for the
immunity of private property at sea. Question as to what
contraband of war really is in these days. Encouraging meeting of
the great committee on arbitration and mediation. Proposal to the
Secretary of State that the American Delegation lay a wreath of
silver and gold upon the tomb of Grotius at Delft. Discussion of
the Brussels Conference Rules. Great social function at the house
of the British Minister; John Bull's wise policy in sustaining
the influence of his Embassies and Legations, its happy results
so far as Great Britain is concerned. Work on the arbitration
plans progressing. Discouragement. Germany, Austria, Italy, and
some minor powers seem suddenly averse to arbitration.
Determination of other powers to go on despite this. Relaxation
of the rule of secrecy regarding our proceedings. Further efforts
in behalf of the American proposal for exemption of private
property from seizure at sea. Outspoken opposition of Germany to
arbitration. Resultant disappointment in the Conference. Progress
in favor of an arbitration plan notwithstanding. Striking
attitude of French socialists toward the Conference. My earnest
talk with Count Munster in favor of arbitration; gradual change
in his attitude. My suggestion to Baroness von Suttner.


CHAPTER XLVIII. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: IV--1899

Declaration against an arbitration tribunal received from their
Government by the German delegation; their consternation;
Professor Zorn and Secretary Holls sent to Berlin; my personal
letter to Baron von Bulow. Means by which the Conference was kept
from meeting until the return of these two gentlemen. Festival
given by the Netherlands Government to the Conference. Tableaux
and dances representing art and life in the Dutch provinces.
Splendid music. Visit to Leyden. Arrival of Speaker Reed of the
American House of Representatives. The Secretary of State
authorizes our placing a wreath of silver and gold on the tomb of
Grotius. Session regarding the extension of the Geneva Rules.
Return of Zorn and Holls from Berlin. Happy change in the
attitude of Germany. Henceforward American and German delegates
work together in favor of arbitration. Question of asphyxiating
bullets and bombs; view of Captain Mahan and Captain Crozier on
these subjects. Curious speech of the delegate from Persia, Mirza
Riza Khan. Great encouragement given by the new attitude of
Germany. Preparation at Delft for our Grotius celebration. Visit
to Rotterdam and Dort. Thoughts upon the Synod of Dort. Visit to
the house from which John De Witt went to prison and
assassination, and where Motley wrote much of his history.
Trouble regarding the relation of Switzerland to the Red Cross
Movement. The Duke of Tetuan. The Grotius wreath.


CHAPTER XLIX. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: V--1899

Celebration of Independence Day at Delft in the presence of the
entire Conference and of eminent Netherlanders; speeches by the
Netherlands ministers and American delegates; telegram from the
King of Sweden. Impressive character of the service; the wreath
placed upon the tomb; breakfast given by our delegation to the
Conference, at the City Hall of Delft. Presentation of the
American Memorial in behalf of the immunity of private property
on the high seas; my speech in its favor: friendly answer by M.
de Martens in behalf of Russia. Visit to M. Cornets de Groot at
Ryswyck; relics of his great ancestor; curious information
regarding the latter. Dinner to the American delegation by the
prime minister of the Netherlands, happy reference to the
arbitration plan. Effects of our Grotius celebration. Great
dinner given by the Queen to the Conference at the palace in
Amsterdam, her speech; her conversations afterward. General
satisfaction shown at our Grotius tribute. My conversation with
Mr. Raffalovitch regarding Russian disarmament. Its difficulties.
Unfortunate article in the London "Spectator" on the work of the
Conference. Attack in the Conference upon the report on
disarmament. Discussion of matters subsidiary to arbitration.
Hostile attitude of the Balkan States toward the commission
d'enquette; ill feeling quieted. Field day regarding flattening
and expanding bullets; attitude of the British and American
delegates. Difficulties regarding the Monroe Doctrine; special
meeting called by our delegation to obviate these, apparent
impossibility of doing so; project of an American declaration;
private agreement upon it among leaders of the Conference,
agreement of the Conference to it. Final signing of the
conventions; seal used by me; reservation in behalf of the Monroe
Doctrine attached to our signatures. Closing of the Conference.
Speeches of M. de Staal and Count Munster. Drawing up of our
report; difficulties arising from sundry differences of opinion
in our delegation. Final meeting of the Conference. Remarks of
the leading representative of a Catholic power, on the
correspondence between the Vatican and the Netherlands Government
which had been presented to the Conference. Retrospect of the
Conference. Summary of its results.


CHAPTER L. HINTS FOR REFORMS IN THE DIPLOMATIC SERVICE

My connection with the Diplomatic Service at periods during the
last forty-five years. Questions which have been asked me
regarding it; reasons why I have not thought it best to reply
fully; reasons why I can now do so. Improvement in our service
since the Civil War; its condition during various administrations
before the Civil War; sundry examples. Mr. Seward's remark.
Improvement in the practice of both parties during recent years.
President Cleveland's worthy effort. Better public sentiment
among the people at large. Unjust charges of pessimists. Good
points in our service at various posts, and especially at London.
Faults of our service at present. My replies to young men anxious
to St themselves for it. Simplicity of the most important
reforms; suggestions. Choice of Ambassadors; of Ministers
Plenipotentiary; of Ministers Resident; of Secretaries of Embassy
and of Legation. Proper preparation of Secretaries; relation of
our Universities to it--part which should be taken in their
selection by the Secretary of State. Appointment of expert
attaches. Probable good results of the system proposed. Evil
results of the present system. Retention of the men best fitted.
Examples of English non-partizanship in such appointments.
Foremost importance of proper houses or apartments, owned or
leased for long terms by the United States for each of its
representatives abroad; evil results of the present system;
certainty of good results from the reform advocated. Present
American system contrasted with that of other nations. Services
rendered by sundry American diplomatists. Cheapness of our
diplomatic establishment compared with its value. Increase of
salaries. Summing up of results of all the reforms herein
advocated.


PART VI-SUNDRY JOURNEYS AND EXPERIENCES

CHAPTER LI. EARLIER EXCURSIONS IN THE UNITED STATES--1838-1875

Usefulness of various journeys to me. Excursion through central
and western New York in 1838--in middle Massachusetts, Boston,
and New York City in 1842. Impression made by Trinity Church.
Beginning of visits to Saratoga in 1843; life there; visits of
Archbishop Hughes, Father Gavazzi, Washington Irving, Mr.
Buchanan; the Parade of Mme. Jumel. Remarkable progress of the
city of New York northward as seen at various visits. First visit
to the West. Chicago in 1858; the raising of the grade; Mr.
George Pullman's part in it. Impression made on me by the
Mississippi River. Sundry stays in Boston. Mr. Josiah Quincy.
Arthur Gilman; his stories and speeches; his delivery of Bishop
Eastburn's sermons; his stories regarding the Bishop. Men met at
Boston. Celebration of Bayard Taylor's birthday with James T.
Fields; reminiscences and stories given by the company; example
of Charles Sumner's lack of humor. Excursions in the Southern
States. Visit to Richmond at the close of the war; Libby Prison;
meeting with Dr. Bacon of New Haven at the former Executive
Mansion of the Confederacy. Visit to Gettysburg; fearful
condition of the battle-field and its neighborhood. Visit to
South Carolina, 1875. Florida. A negro church; discovery of a
Christmas carol imbedded in a plantation hymn. Excursion up the
St. Johns River. Visit to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Collection
of books on the Civil War. A visit to Martha's Vineyard; pious
amusements; "Nearer, My God, to Thee" played as a waltz.


CHAPTER LII. ENGLAND REVISITED--1885

Reason for going abroad after my resignation of the Cornell
Presidency in 1885. "Tom Brown" at sea; sundry stories of his.
Southwest of England. Visit to the historian Freeman at Wells.
The Bishop and his palace. The Judge's dinner. The Squires in the
Court of Quarter Sessions. A Gladstonian meeting; Freeman's
speech; his defense of the last Abbot of Glastonbury. Bishop
Bickersteth at Heavitree and Exeter. The caves at Torquay and
their lessons. Worcester Cathedral and Deanery. "The Bungalow" of
Halliwell-Phillips at Brighton. Oxford; chapel of All Souls
College--?? interesting change seen at Magdalen; Bryce's
comparisons between British and American problems; visits to
various colleges. Discussions of university affairs. Freeman's
lectures. To Windsor. Stay with Sir Paul Hunter at Mortimer.
Visit to Bearwood. Mr. John Walter of the "Times." Visit to
"Bramshill." Cambridge. New acquaintances. Talks with Bishop
Creighton and Sir Henry Maine. Beginnings of technical
instruction at Cambridge. A Greek play. Lord Lytton. Professor
Seeley and his lectures. "Audit dinner" at Trinity College.
Professor Mahaffy's stories of Archbishop Whately. London. Talks
with Lecky.


CHAPTER LIII. FRANCE, ITALY, AND SWITZEBLAND--1886-1887

Mme. Blaze de Bury. From Paris to the Riviera. James Bryce.
George von Bunsen. Sir Charles Murray. Lord Acton; discussions
with the latter; his wide range of knowledge; his information
regarding Father Paul, the Congregation of the Index, etc. Sir
Henry Keating and the discussion at the Cercle Nautique of
Cannes. Lord Acton's view of Napoleon. Florence; talks with
Villari. Naples; the Doctrine of Intercession as shown in sundry
pictures. Amalfi. Sorrento; the Catechism of Archbishop Apuzzo;
Francis Galton; his discussion of dreams; Marion Crawford; Mr.
Mayall's story of Herbert Spencer. Visit to Monte Cassino; talk
with a novice. Excursions in Rome with Lanciani. Cardinal Edward
at St. Peter's. Discussions of Italian affairs with Minghetti,
Sambuy, and others. The sculptor Story. Non-intercourse between
Vatican and Quirinal. Judge Stallo. The Abbot of St. Paul Outside
the Walls; bis minute knowledge of certain American affairs.
Count de Gubernatis, at Florence, on the legendary character of
sundry Hindu marvels. Count Ressi and his Catawba wine. Alfieri
Sostegno and his school for political and social studies.
Ubaldino Peruzzi. Stay at the Italian lakes. Visit to my
colleague, Minister Both, in Switzerland; his duties as
Landamman. The Abbey of St. Gall and its library. Visit to the
Engadine. Talks with the British Admiral Irvine, at St. Moritz;
his advocacy of war vessels with beaks. Sermon at Geneva. Talks
with Mme. Blaze de Bury and Lecky at Paris. Architectural
excursions through the east of France. Outrages by "restorers" at
Rheims and at Troyes. London. Sermon by Temple, then bishop. More
talks with Lecky; his views of Earl Russell and of Carlyle.
Return to America.


CHAPTER LIV. EGYPT, GREECE, AND TURKEY--1888-1889

A great sorrow and disappointment. Court of Appeals decides the
Fiske suit, June, 1888. Reasons for going abroad. Scotland
revisited. Memorable sermon at St. Giles in Edinburgh. Cathedral
towns revisited. Sermons at Lichfield. The House of Commons;
scene between the Irish leaders and Mr. Balfour. A political
meeting in Holborn. Excursions to Rugby; to the home of Gilbert
White; to the graves of Gray, Thackeray, and others. A critic of
Carlyle at Brighton. Cambridge; interesting papers regarding the
American Revolution. Lord Aberdare's story of Frederick the Great
and a British minister. Hermit life in London; work at the
British Museum. Journey through Italy and Egypt with Willard
Fiske; effect of Egyptian and other Eastern experiences on me;
five weeks on the Nile; Brugsch Bey's account of his discovery of
the royal mummies; my visit to Artin Pasha and the great
Technical School of Cairo. Dinner with the Khedive; my curious
blunder. American and English missionaries in Cairo and
Alexandria; Dr. Grant's lecture on the Egyptian Trinities. Mr.
Nimr; bis scientific and other activities in Egypt. My enjoyment
of Saracenic architecture. Revelation to me of the connection
between Egyptian and Greek architecture. Disappointment in the
work of missionaries in Mohammedan countries. Stay in Athens.
Professor Waldstein. The American School of Archaeology.
Excursions with Walker Fearne and Professor Mahaffy. A talk with
the Greek prime minister. A function at the cathedral. Visit to
Mars Hill on Good Friday. To Constantinople. Our minister, Mr.
Straus. Discussions of art by Hamdi Bey and of literature by Sir
William White. Revelations of history and architecture in
Constantinople. St. Sophia. Return to Paris. The Exposition of
1889. The American "commission of experts"; its good and bad
sides. Great improvement in American art. Sargent and Melchers.
Tributes, in Paris, to Lafayette and Camille Desmoulins. Walks
and talks with Senator Gibson; our journey together to Homburg
and Belgium.


CHAPTER LV. MEXICO, CALIFORNIA, SCANDINAVIA, RUSSIA, ITALY,
LONDON, AND BERLIN--1892-1897

My stay of two years in America. Lectures at the University of
Pennsylvania. Archbishop Ryan's Latin pun. The Mohonk Conference
and President Hayes. Excursion with Andrew Carnegie to Mexico,
California, and Oregon. Meetings with Cornell students. Cathedral
of Mexico. Our reception by President Porfirio Diaz and his
ministers. Beauty of California in spring. Its two universities.
My relations with Stanford; pleasure in this visit to it;
character of its buildings; my lectures there. Visit to Salt Lake
City. To the Chicago Exposition buildings. The University of
Chicago and its work. My appointment as minister to St.
Petersburg. My arrival there on November 4, 1892. A vacation
visit to the Scandinavian countries. The University and Cathedral
of Upsala. Journey through the Swedish canals and lakes.
Gothenburg. Swedish system of dealing with the sale of
intoxicating liquors; its happy results. Throndheim; cathedral;
evidences of mediaeval piety and fraud. Impression made by Sweden
and Norway New evolution of human folly in Norway. The
Ethnographic Museum at Copenhagen. Moscow revisited. Muscovite
ideas of trade. My visit to Tolstoi. Resignation of my legation
at St. Petersburg. Italy revisited. Stay in Palermo The Church of
St. Josaphat; identity of this saint with Buddha; my talk
regarding him with the Commendatore Marzo. Visit to the Cathedral
of Monreale. The media val idea of creation as revealed in its
mosaics. The earthquake at Florence; our experiences of it; its
effects in the town. Return to America. Conversation with Holman
Hunt in London. Visits to sundry American universities; my
addresses before their students; reasons for publicly discussing
"The Problem of High Crime" in our country. The Venezuelan
Commission. My appointment in May, 1897, as ambassador to
Germany.


PART VII-MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS

CHAPTER LVI. THE CARDIFF GIANT: A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF HUMAN
FOLLY--1869-1870

Twofold characteristics of the central route from New York to
Niagara. The lake country of western New York. The Onondaga
Valley; characteristics of its people; their agitation in the
autumn of 1869. Discovery of the "petrified giant." My visit to
it; my skepticism; its causes. Evolution of myth and legend.
General joy in believing in the marvelous origin of the statue.
Gradual growth of a skeptical view. Confirmation of suspicions.
Desperate efforts to resist skepticism. Clear proofs of a
swindle. Attempted revival of belief in it. Alexander McWhorter;
he declares the statue a Phenician idol, and detects a Phenician
inscription upon it. View of Dr. Schlottmann, Instructor in
Hebrew at Leipsic. My answer to his inquiry. Be persists in his
belief. Final acknowledgment and explanation of the whole thing
as a swindle. Sundry later efforts to imitate it.


CHAPTER LVII. PLANS AND PROJECTS, EXECUTED AND
UNEXECUTED--1838-1905

My early reverence for authors. Youthful tendency toward literary
studies. Change in this respect during my stay at Yale.
Difference between the Yale and Harvard spirit. Senator Wolcott's
speech on this. Special influence of Parker and Carlyle upon my
view of literature. My purpose in various writings. Preparations
for lectures upon the French Revolution and for a book upon its
causes; probabilities of this book at present. "Paper Money
Inflation in France," etc. Course of lectures upon the history of
Germany. Resultant plan of a book; form to be given it; reasons
for this form; its present prospects. My discussion of sundry
practical questions. Report as Commissioner at the Paris
Exposition of 1878; resultant address on "The Provision for
Higher Instruction in Subjects Bearing Directly on Public
Affairs." Happy progress of our universities in this respect.
Civil-service reform; speeches; article in the "North American
Review." Address at Yale on "The Message of the Nineteenth
Century to the Twentieth." Some points in the evolution of my
"History of the Warfare of Science with Theology." Projects
formed during sundry vacation journeys in Europe. Lectures on the
evolution of humanity in criminal law; growth of torture in
penalty and procedure; collection of material on the, subject.
Project of a small book to be called "The Warfare of Humanity
with Unreason." Vague project during sundry stays at Florence of
a history of that city; attractive points in such a history.
Project of a Life of Father Paul Sarpi formed at Venice; its
relinquishment; importance of such a biography. Plan for a study
on the Life of St. Francis Xavier; beauty of his life; lesson
taught by it regarding the evolution of myth and legend. Project
of a brief biography of Thomas Jefferson; partly carried out; how
formed and why discarded. Bibliographical introduction to
O'Connor Morris's short history of the French Revolution. Project
of a longer general bibliography of modern bi story transferred
to President Charles Kendall Adams. Project of book, "How Can
Wealthy Americans Best Use Their Money"; Deed of such a book in
the United States. Lectures given and articles projected on "The
Problem of High Crime in the United States"; reasons for taking
up this subject. Two projects of which I have dreamed; A brief
History of the Middle Ages as an introduction to Modern History;
desirable characteristics of such a book; beginnings made of it
in my lectures: "A History of Civilization in Spain"; reasons for
such a book; excellent material accessible: general
characteristics of such a history; recommendation of this subject
to historical scholars. Characteristics of American life in the
latter half of the nineteenth century unfavorable to the carrying
out of many extended projects. Distractions. An apologia pro
vita mea.


PART VIII-RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT

CHAPTER LVIII. EARLY IMPRESSIONS--1832-1851

Religious ideas of the settlers in central New York. The
Protestant Episcopal Church; its relations to larger Christian
bodies. Effects of revivalism in them. My father and mother. A
soul escaped out of the thirteenth century into the nineteenth,
Henry Gregory. My first recollections of religious worship;
strong impressions upon me; good effects; some temporary evil
effects. Syracuse. My early bigotry; check in it; reaction.
Family influences. Influence of sundry sermons and occurrences.
Baptismal regeneration. My feelings as expressed by Lord Bacon.
The "Ursuline Manual" and its revelation. Effects of sectarian
squabbles and Sunday-school zeal. Bishop DeLancey; his impressive
personality. Effects of certain books. Life at a little sectarian
college. Results of "Christian Evidences".


CHAPTER LIX. IN THE NEW ENGLAND ATMOSPHERE--1851-1853

Influence of New England Congregationalism at Yale. Butler's
"Analogy." Revivals. Sermons and prayers in the college pulpit.
Noble efforts of sundry professors, especially sermons of Horace
Bushnell and President Woolsey. The recital of creeds. Effects of
my historical reading. Injury done the American Church at that
period by its support of slavery; notable exceptions to this.
Samuel J. May. Beecher. Chapin. Theodore Parker. Influence of the
latter upon me. Especial characteristics of Beecher as shown then
and afterward. Chapin and his characteristics. Horace Greeley as
a church-goer; strain upon his Universalism. Dr. Leonard Bacon.
Bishop Alonzo Potter. Archbishops Bedini and Hughes; powerful
sermon by the latter; Father Gavazzi's reply to it.


CHAPTER LX. IN THE EUROPEAN ATMOSPHERE--1853-1856

Student life in Europe. My susceptibility to religious
architecture, music, and the nobler forms of ceremonial. Beauties
of the Anglican service. Sundry experiences in European
cathedrals and English university chapels. Archbishop Sumner.
Bishop Wilberforce. My life in a Roman Catholic family in Paris.
Noble work of the Archbishop of Paris. Sibour; his assassination.
German Protestantism as seen in Berlin. Earnest character of
Roman Catholic worship in central Germany. The Russo-Greek Church
as seen in Russia; beauty of its service; its unfortunate
influence on the people. Roman Catholicism in Italy; its wretched
condition when I first saw it; irreverence of prelates at an
Easter high mass in st. Peter's. Pius IX; effectiveness of the
ceremonial in which he took part; Lord Odo Russell's reminiscence
of him. A low mass at Pisa and its effect. An effort at
proselytism in Rome; Father Cataldi. Condition of Rome at that
time. Improvements since. Naples and "King Bomba"; Robert Dale
Owen's statement to me. Catechism promoted by the Archbishop of
Sorrento. Liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius; remark of a
bystander to me. The doctrine of "intercession" illustrated.
Erasmus's colloquy of "The Shipwreck." Moral condition of Naples.
Influence of this Italian experience upon my religious views.


CHAPTER LXI. IN LATER YEARS--1856-1905

My relations with Professor Fisher at New Haven; his good
influence. My interest in church work as a professor at the
University of Michigan; am asked to select a rector; my success.
Readings in ecclesiastical history; effect of these. Sale's
Koran. Fra Paolo Sarpi's "History of the Council of Trent." Dean
Stanley's "Eastern Church." Bossuet, Spalding, Balmez, Buckle,
Lecky, Draper, the Darwinian hypothesis. Special influence of
Stanley's "Life of Arnold," Robertson's Sermons, and other works.
Good influences from sundry Methodists. Exceptions taken by
individuals to sundry Broad Church statements in my historical
lectures; their favorable reception. Sobering effect upon me of
"spiritualistic" fanaticism. My increasing reluctance to promote
revolutionary changes in religion; my preference for evolutionary
methods. Special experiences. The death-bed of a Hicksite Quaker.
My toleration ideas embodied in the Cornell University Charter;
successful working of these. Establishment of a university chapel
and preachership; my selections of preachers; good effects of
their sermons upon me. Effects of sundry Eastern experiences.
Mohammedan worship at Cairo and elsewhere. The dervishes.
Expulsion of young professors from the American Missionary
College at Beyrout; noble efforts of one of them afterward. The
Positivist Conventicle in London. The "Bible for Learners."
Summing up of my experience. Worship--public and private;
reasonableness of both. Recognition of spiritual as well as of
physical laws. Recognition of an evolution in religious beliefs.
Proper attitude of thinking men. Efforts for evolution rather
than for revolution. Need of charity to all forms of religion but
of steady resistance to clerical combinations for hampering
scientific thought or controlling public education.


LIST OF PUBLICATIONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS.



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANDREW DICKSON WHITE

Volume II


CHAPTER XXXIII

AS MINISTER TO RUSSIA--1892-1894

During four years after my return from service as minister to
Germany I devoted myself to the duties of the presidency at
Cornell, and on resigning that position gave all time possible to
study and travel, with reference to the book on which I was then
engaged: "A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology."

But in 1892 came a surprise. In the reminiscences of my political
life I have given an account of a visit, with Theodore Roosevelt,
Cabot Lodge, Sherman Rogers, and others, to President Harrison at
the White House, and of some very plain talk, on both sides,
relating to what we thought shortcomings of the administration in
regard to reform in the civil service. Although President
Harrison greatly impressed me at the time by the clearness and
strength of his utterances, my last expectation in the world
would have been of anything in the nature of an appointment from
him. High officials do not generally think very well of people
who comment unfavorably on their doings or give them unpleasant
advice; this I had done, to the best of my ability, in addressing
the President; and great, therefore, was my astonishment when, in
1892, he tendered me the post of minister plenipotentiary at St.
Petersburg.

On my way I stopped in London, and saw various interesting
people, but especially remember a luncheon with Lord Rothschild,
with whom I had a very interesting talk about the treatment of
the Jews in Russia. He seemed to feel deeply the persecution to
which they were subjected,--speaking with much force regarding
it, and insisting that their main crime was that they were sober,
thoughtful, and thrifty; that as to the charge that they were
preying upon the agricultural population, they preyed upon it as
do the Quakers in England--by owning agricultural machines and
letting them out; that as to the charge of usury, they were much
less exacting than many Christians; and that the main effort upon
public opinion there, such as it is, should be in the direction
of preventing the making of more severe laws. He incidentally
referred to the money power of Europe as against Russia, speaking
of Alexander II as kind and just, but of Alexander III as really
unacquainted with the great questions concerned, and under
control of the church.

I confess that I am amazed, as I revise this chapter, to learn
from apparently trustworthy sources that his bank is now making a
vast loan to Russia--to enable her to renew her old treatment of
Japan, China, Armenia, Finland, Poland, the Baltic Provinces, and
her Jewish residents. I can think of nothing so sure to
strengthen the anti-Semites throughout the world.

A few days later Sir Julian Goldschmidt came to me on the same
subject, and he impressed me much more deeply than the head of
the house of Rothschild had done. There was nothing of the
ennobled millionaire about him; he seemed to me a gentleman from
the heart outward. Presenting with much feeling the disabilities
and hardships of the Jews in Russia, he dwelt upon the
discriminations against them, especially in the matter of
military fines; their gradual and final exclusion from
professions; and the confiscation of their property at Moscow,
where they had been forced to leave the city and therefore to
realize on their whole estates at a few days' notice.

At Paris I also had some interesting conversations, regarding my
new post, with the Vicomte de Vogue, the eminent academician, who
has written so much that is interesting on Russia. Both he and
Struve, the Russian minister at Washington, who had given me a
letter to him, had married into the Annenkoff family; and I found
his knowledge of Russia, owing to this fact as well as to his
former diplomatic residence there, very suggestive. Another
interesting episode was the funeral of Renan at the College de
France, to which our minister, Mr. Coolidge, took me. Eloquent
tributes were paid, and the whole ceremony was impressive after
the French manner.

Dining with Mr. Coolidge, I found myself seated near the Duchesse
de la Rochefoucauld,--a charming American, the daughter of Mr.
Mitchell, former senator from Oregon. The duke seemed to be a
quiet, manly young officer, devoted to his duties in the army;
but it was hard to realize in him the successor of the great
duke, the friend of Washington and of Louis XVI, who showed
himself so broad-minded during our War of Independence and the
French Revolution.

At Berlin I met several of my old friends at the table of our
minister, my friend of Yale days, William Walter Phelps--among
these Virchow, Professor von Leyden, Paul Meyerheim, Carl Becker,
and Theodor Barth; and at the Russian Embassy had an interesting
talk with Count Shuvaloff, more especially on the Behring Sea
question. We agreed that the interests of the United States and
Russia in the matter were identical.

On the 4th of November I arrived in St. Petersburg after an
absence of thirty-seven years. Even in that country, where
everything moves so slowly, there had clearly been changes; the
most evident of these being the railway from the frontier. At my
former visit the journey from Berlin had required nine days and
nine nights of steady travel, mainly in a narrow post-coach; now
it was easily done in one day and two nights in very comfortable
cars. At that first visit the entire railway system of Russia,
with the exception of the road from the capital to Gatshina only
a few miles long, consisted of the line to Moscow; at this second
visit the system had spread very largely over the empire, and was
rapidly extending through Siberia and Northern China to the
Pacific.

But the deadening influence of the whole Russian system was
evident. Persons who clamor for governmental control of American
railways should visit Germany, and above all Russia, to see how
such control results. In Germany its defects are evident enough;
people are made to travel in carriages which our main lines would
not think of using, and with a lack of conveniences which with us
would provoke a revolt; but the most amazing thing about this
administration in Russia is to see how, after all this vast
expenditure, the whole atmosphere of the country seems to
paralyze energy. During my stay at St. Petersburg I traveled over
the line between that city and Berlin six or eight times, and
though there was usually but one express-train a day, I never saw
more than twenty or thirty through passengers. When one bears in
mind the fact that this road is the main artery connecting one
hundred and twenty millions of people at one end with over two
hundred millions at the other, this seems amazing; but still more
so when one considers that in the United States, with a
population of, say, eighty millions in all, we have five great
trunk-lines across the continent, each running large
express-trains several times a day.

There was apparently little change as regards enterprise in
Russia, whatever there might be as regarded facilities for
travel. St. Petersburg had grown, of course. There were new
streets in the suburbs, and where the old admiralty wharves had
stood,--for the space of perhaps an eighth of a mile along the
Neva,--fine buildings had been erected. But these were the only
evident changes, the renowned Nevskii Prospekt remaining as
formerly--a long line of stuccoed houses on either side, almost
all poor in architecture; and the street itself the same unkempt,
shabby, commonplace thoroughfare as of old. No new bridge had
been built across the Neva for forty years. There was still but
one permanent structure spanning the river, and the great stream
of travel and traffic between the two parts of the city was
dependent mainly on the bridges of boats, which, at the breaking
of the ice in the spring, had sometimes to be withdrawn during
many days.

A change had indeed been brought by the emancipation of the
serfs, but there was little outward sign of it. The muzhik
remained, to all appearance, what he was before: in fact, as our
train drew into St. Petersburg, the peasants, with their
sheepskin caftans, cropped hair, and stupid faces, brought back
the old impressions so vividly that I seemed not to have been
absent a week. The old atmosphere of repression was evident
everywhere. I had begun my experience of it under Nicholas I, had
seen a more liberal policy under Alexander II, but now found a
recurrence of reaction, and everywhere a pressure which deadened
all efforts at initiating a better condition of things.

But I soon found one change for the better. During my former stay
under Nicholas I and Alexander II, the air was full of charges of
swindling and cheatery against the main men at court. Now next to
nothing of that sort was heard; it was evident that Alexander
III, narrow and illiberal though he might be, was an honest man,
and determined to end the sort of thing that had disgraced the
reigns of his father and grandfather.

Having made the usual visit to the Foreign Office upon my
arrival, I was accompanied three days later by the proper
officials, Prince Soltykoff and M. de Koniar, on a special train
to Gatchina, and there received by the Emperor. I found
him--though much more reserved than his father--agreeable and
straightforward. As he was averse to set speeches, we began at
once a discussion on various questions interesting the two
nations, and especially those arising out of the Behring Sea
fisheries. He seemed to enter fully into the American view;
characterizing the marauders in that sea as "ces poachers
la"--using the English word, although our conversation was in
French; and on my saying that the Russian and American interests
in that question were identical, he not only acquiesced, but
spoke at considerable length, and earnestly, in the same sense.

He alluded especially to the Chicago Exposition, spoke in praise
of its general conception and plan, said that though in certain
classes of objects of art it might not equal some of the European
expositions, it would doubtless in very many specialties surpass
all others; and on my expressing the hope that Russia would be
fully represented, he responded heartily, declaring that to be
his own wish.

Among the various subjects noted was one which was rather
curious. In the anteroom I had found the Greek Archbishop of
Warsaw arrayed in a purple robe and hat--the latter adorned with
an exceedingly lustrous cross of diamonds, and, engaging in
conversation with him, had learned that he had a few years before
visited China as a missionary; his talk was that of a very
intelligent man; and on my saying that one of our former American
bishops, Dr. Boone, in preparing a Chinese edition of the
Scriptures had found great difficulty in deciding upon a proper
equivalent for the word "God," the archbishop answered, "That is
quite natural, for the reason that the Chinese have really no
conception of such a Being."

Toward the close of my interview with the Emperor, then, I
referred to the archbishop, and congratulated the monarch on
having so accomplished and devoted a prelate in his church. At
this he said, "You speak Russian, then?" to which I answered in
the negative. "But," he said, "how then could you talk with the
archbishop?" I answered, "He spoke in French." The Emperor seemed
greatly surprised at this, and well he might be, for the
ecclesiastics in Russia seem the only exceptions to the rule that
Russians speak French and other foreign languages better and more
generally than do any other people.

This interview concluded, I was taken through a long series of
apartments filled with tapestries, porcelain, carvings,
portraits, and the like, to be received by the Empress. She was
slight in figure, graceful, with a most kindly face and manner,
and she put me at ease immediately, addressing me in English, and
detaining me much longer than I had expected. She, too, spoke of
the Chicago Exposition, saying that she had ordered some things
of her own sent to it. She also referred very pleasantly to the
Rev. Dr. Talmage of Brooklyn, who had come over on one of the
ships which brought supplies to the famine-stricken; and she
dwelt upon sundry similarities and dissimilarities between our
own country and Russia, discussing various matters of local
interest, and was in every way cordial and kindly.

The impression made by the Emperor upon me at that time was
deepened during my whole stay. He was evidently a strong
character, but within very unfortunate limits--upright, devoted
to his family, with a strong sense of his duty to his people and
of his accountability to the Almighty. But more and more it
became evident that his political and religious theories were
narrow, and that the assassination of his father had thrown him
back into the hands of reactionists. At court and elsewhere I
often found myself looking at him and expressing my thoughts
inwardly much as follows: "You are honest, true-hearted, with a
deep sense of duty; but what a world of harm you are destined to
do! With your immense physical frame and giant strength, you will
last fifty years longer; you will try by main force to hold back
the whole tide of Russian thought; and after you will come the
deluge." There was nothing to indicate the fact that he was just
at the close of his life.

At a later period I was presented to the heir to the throne, now
the Emperor Nicholas II. He seemed a kindly young man; but one of
his remarks amazed and disappointed me. During the previous year
the famine, which had become chronic in large parts of Russia,
had taken an acute form, and in its train had come typhus and
cholera. It was, in fact, the same wide-spread and deadly
combination of starvation and disease which similar causes
produced so often in Western-Europe during the middle ages. From
the United States had come large contributions of money and
grain; and as, during the year after my arrival, there had been a
recurrence of the famine, about forty thousand rubles more had
been sent me from Philadelphia for distribution. I therefore
spoke on the general subject to him, referring to the fact that
he was president of the Imperial Relief Commission. He answered
that since the crops of the last year there was no longer any
suffering; that there was no famine worthy of mention; and that
he was no longer giving attention to the subject. This was said
in an offhand, easy-going way which appalled me. The simple fact
was that the famine, though not so wide-spread, was more trying
than during the year before; for it found the peasant population
in Finland and in the central districts of the empire even less
prepared to meet it. They had, during the previous winter, very
generally eaten their draught-animals and burned everything not
absolutely necessary for their own shelter; from Finland
specimens of bread made largely of ferns had been brought me
which it would seem a shame to give to horses or cattle; and yet
his imperial highness the heir to the throne evidently knew
nothing of all this.

In explanation, I was afterward told by a person who had known
him intimately from his childhood, that, though courteous, his
main characteristic was an absolute indifference to most persons
and things about him, and that he never showed a spark of
ambition of any sort. This was confirmed by what I afterward saw
of him at court. He seemed to stand about listlessly, speaking in
a good-natured way to this or that person when it was easier than
not to do so; but, on the whole, indifferent to all which went on
about him.

After his accession to the throne, one of the best judges in
Europe, who had many opportunities to observe him closely, said
to me, "He knows nothing of his empire or of his people; he never
goes out of his house, if he can help it." This explains in some
degree the insufficiency of his programme for the Peace
Conference at The Hague and for the Japanese War, which, as I
revise these lines, is bringing fearful disaster and disgrace
upon Russia.

The representative of a foreign power in any European capital
must be presented to the principal members of the reigning
family, and so I paid my respects to the grand dukes and
duchesses. The first and most interesting of these to me was the
old Grand Duke Michael--the last surviving son of the first
Nicholas. He was generally, and doubtless rightly, regarded as,
next to his elder brother, Alexander II, the flower of the flock;
and his reputation was evidently much enhanced by comparison with
his brother next above him in age, the Grand Duke Nicholas. It
was generally charged that the conduct of the latter during the
Turkish campaign was not only unpatriotic, but inhuman. An army
officer once speaking to me regarding the suffering of his
soldiers at that time for want of shoes, I asked him where the
shoes were, and he answered: "In the pockets of the Grand Duke
Nicholas."

Michael was evidently different from his brother--not haughty and
careless toward all other created beings; but kindly, and with a
strong sense of duty. One thing touched me. I said to him that
the last time I had seen him was when he reached St. Petersburg
from the seat of the Crimean War in the spring of 1855, and drove
from the railway to the palace in company with his brother
Nicholas. Instantly the tears came into his eyes and flowed down
his cheeks. He answered: "Yes, that was sad indeed. My
father"--meaning the first Emperor Nicholas--"telegraphed us that
our mother was in very poor health, longed to see us, and
insisted on our coming to her bedside. On our way home we learned
of his death."

Of the younger generation of grand dukes,--the brothers of
Alexander III,--the greatest impression was made upon me by
Vladimir. He was apparently the strongest of all the sons of
Alexander II, being of the great Romanoff breed--big, strong,
muscular, like his brother the Emperor. He chatted pleasantly;
and I remember that he referred to Mr. James Gordon Bennett--whom
he had met on a yachting cruise--as "my friend."

Another of these big Romanoff grand dukes was Alexis, the grand
admiral. He referred to his recollections of the United States
with apparent pleasure, in spite of the wretched Catacazy
imbroglio which hindered President Grant from showing him any
hospitality at the White House, and which so vexed his father the
Emperor Alexander II.

The ladies of the imperial family were very agreeable. A remark
of one of them--a beautiful and cultivated woman, born a princess
of one of the Saxon duchies--surprised me; for, when I happened
to mention Dresden, she told me that her great desire had been to
visit that capital of her own country, but that she had never
been able to do so. She spoke of German literature, and as I
mentioned receiving a letter the day before from Professor Georg
Ebers, the historical novelist, she said: "You are happy indeed
that you can meet such people; how I should like to know Ebers!"
Such are the limitations of royalty.

Meantime, I made visits to my colleagues of the diplomatic corps,
and found them interesting and agreeable--as it is the business
of diplomatists to be. The dean was the German ambassador,
General von Schweinitz, a man ideally fit for such a position--of
wide experience, high character, and evidently strong and firm,
though kindly. When ambassador at Vienna he had married the
daughter of his colleague, the American minister, Mr. John Jay,
an old friend and colleague of mine in the American Historical
Association; and so came very pleasant relations between us. His
plain, strong sense was of use to me in more than one difficult
question.

The British ambassador was Sir Robert Morier. He, too, was a
strong character, though lacking apparently in some of General
von Schweinitz's more kindly qualities. He was big, roughish, and
at times so brusque that he might almost be called brutal. When
bullying was needed it was generally understood that he could do
it con amore. A story was told of him which, whether exact or
not, seemed to fit his character well. He had been, for a time,
minister to Portugal; and, during one of his controversies with
the Portuguese minister of foreign affairs, the latter, becoming
exasperated, said to him: "Sir, it is evident that you were not
born a Portuguese cavalier." Thereupon Morier replied: "No, thank
God, I was not: if I had been, I would have killed myself on the
breast of my mother."

And here, perhaps, is the most suitable place for mentioning a
victory which Morier enabled Great Britain to obtain over the
United States. It might be a humiliating story for me to tell,
had not the fault so evidently arisen from the shortcomings of
others. The time has come to reveal this piece of history, and I
do so in the hope that it may aid in bettering the condition in
which the Congress of the United States has, thus far, left its
diplomatic servants.

As already stated, the most important question with which I had
to deal was that which had arisen in the Behring Sea. The United
States possessed there a great and flourishing fur-seal industry,
which was managed with care and was a source of large revenue to
our government. The killing of the seals under the direction of
those who had charge of the matter was done with the utmost care
and discrimination on the Pribyloff Islands, to which these
animals resorted in great numbers during the summer. It was not
at all cruel, and was so conducted that the seal herd was fully
maintained rather than diminished. But it is among the
peculiarities of the seals that, each autumn, they migrate
southward, returning each spring in large numbers along the
Alaskan coast, and also that, while at the islands, the nursing
mothers make long excursions to fishing-banks at distances of
from one to two hundred miles. The return of these seal herds,
and these food excursions, were taken advantage of by Canadian
marauders, who slaughtered the animals, in the water, without
regard to age or sex, in a way most cruel and wasteful; so that
the seal herds were greatly diminished and in a fair way to
extermination. Our government tried to prevent this and seized
sundry marauding vessels; whereupon Great Britain felt obliged,
evidently from political motives, to take up the cause of these
Canadian poachers and to stand steadily by them. As a last
resort, the government of the United States left the matter to
arbitration, and in due time the tribunal began its sessions at
Paris. Meantime, a British commission was, in 1891-1892, ordered
to prepare the natural-history material for the British case
before the tribunal; and it would be difficult to find a more
misleading piece of work than their report. Sham scientific facts
were supplied for the purposes of the British counsel at Paris.
While I cannot believe that the authorities in London ordered or
connived at this, it is simple justice to state, as a matter of
fact, that, as afterward in the Venezuela case,[1] so in this,
British agents were guilty of the sharpest of sharp practices.
The Russian fur-seal islands having also suffered to a
considerable extent from similar marauders, a British commission
visited the Russian islands and took testimony of the Russian
commandant in a manner grossly unfair. This commandant was an
honest man, with good powers of observation and with considerable
insight into the superficial facts of seal life, but without
adequate scientific training; his knowledge of English was very
imperfect, and the commission apparently led him to say and sign
just what they wanted. He was somehow made to say just the things
which were needed to help the British case, and not to say
anything which could hurt it. So absurd were the misstatements to
which he had thus been led to attach his name that the Russian
Government ordered him to come all the way from the Russian
islands on the coast of Siberia to St. Petersburg, there to be
reexamined. It was an enormous journey--from the islands to
Japan, from Japan to San Francisco, from San Francisco to New
York, and thence to St. Petersburg. There, with the aid of a
Russian expert, I had the satisfaction of putting questions to
him; and, having found the larger part of his previous alleged
testimony to be completely in conflict with his knowledge and
opinions, I forwarded this new testimony to those in charge of
the American case before the Paris tribunal, in the hope that it
would place the whole matter in its true light. With it was also
presented the concurring testimony taken by the American experts
who had been sent to the Behring Sea. Those experts were Drs.
Mendenhall and Merriam, scientists of the highest character, and
their reports were, in every essential particular, afterward
confirmed by another man of science, after study of the whole
question in the islands and on the adjacent seas--Dr. Jordan,
president of Stanford University, probably the highest authority
in the United States--and, perhaps, in the world--regarding the
questions at issue: a pupil and friend of Agassiz, a man utterly
incapable of making a statement regarding any point in science
which he did not fully believe, no matter what its political
bearing might be.


[1] See my chapter on the Venezuela Commission for the trick
attempted by British agents in the first British Blue Book on
that subject.


And now to another feature of the case. Before leaving Washington
for St. Petersburg, I had consulted with the Secretary of State
and the leading persons in charge of our case, and on my way had
talked with Count Shuvaloff, the Russian ambassador at Berlin;
and all agreed that the interests of the United States and Russia
in the matter of protecting the seals were identical. The only
wonder was that, this fact being so clear, the Russian Foreign
Office constantly held back from showing any active sympathy with
the United States in our efforts to right this wrong done to both
nations.

At my first presentation to the Emperor I found him, as already
stated, of the same opinion as the Washington cabinet and Count
Shuvaloff. He was thoroughly with us, was bitter against the
Canadian marauders, agreed in the most straightforward and
earnest manner that the interests of Russia and the United States
in this question were identical, and referred severely to the
British encroachments upon both the nations in the northern
seas.[2]


[2] See detailed account of this conversation previously given in
this chapter.


All went smoothly until I took up the subject at the Russian
Foreign Office. There I found difficulties, though at first I did
not fully understand them. The Emperor Alexander III was dying at
Livadia in the Crimea; M. de Giers, the minister of foreign
affairs, a man of high character, was dying at Tzarskoye Selo;
and in charge of his department was an under-secretary who had
formerly, for a short time, represented Russia at Washington and
had not been especially successful there. Associated with him was
another under-secretary, who was in charge of the Asiatic
division at the Russian Foreign Office. My case was strong, and I
was quite willing to meet Sir Robert Morier in any fair argument
regarding it. I had taken his measure on one or two occasions
when he had discussed various questions in my presence; and had
not the slightest fear that, in a fair presentation of the
matter, he could carry his point against me. At various times we
met pleasantly enough in the anterooms of the Foreign Office; but
at that period our representative at the Russian court was simply
a minister plenipotentiary and the British representative an
ambassador, and as such he, of course, had precedence over me,
with some adventitious advantages which I saw then, and others
which I realized afterward. It was not long before it became
clear that Sir Robert Morier had enormous "influence" with the
above-named persons in charge of the Foreign Office, and, indeed,
with Russian officials in general. They seemed not only to stand
in awe of him, but to look toward him as "the eyes of a maiden to
the hand of her mistress." I now began to understand the fact
which had so long puzzled our State Department--namely, that
Russia did not make common cause with us, though we were fighting
her battles at the same time with our own. But I struggled on,
seeing the officials frequently and doing the best that was
possible.

Meantime, the arbitration tribunal was holding its sessions at
Paris, and the American counsel were doing their best to secure
justice for our country. The facts were on our side, and there
seemed every reason to hope for a decision in our favor. A vital
question was as to how extensive the closed zone for the seals
about our islands should be. The United States showed that the
nursing seals were killed by the Canadian poachers at a distance
of from one to two hundred miles from the islands, and that
killing ought not to be allowed within a zone of that radius;
but, on the other hand, the effort of the British counsel was to
make this zone as small as possible. They had even contended for
a zone of only ten miles radius. But just at the nick of time Sir
Robert Morier intervened at St. Petersburg. No one but himself
and the temporary authorities of the Russian Foreign Office had,
or could have had, any knowledge of his manoeuver. By the means
which his government gave him power to exercise, he in some way
secured privately, from the underlings above referred to as in
temporary charge of the Foreign Office, an agreement with Great
Britain which practically recognized a closed zone of only thirty
miles radius about the Russian islands. This fact was telegraphed
just at the proper moment to the British representatives before
the tribunal; and, as one of the judges afterward told me, it
came into the case like a bomb. It came so late that any adequate
explanation of Russia's course was impossible, and its
introduction at that time was strenuously objected to by our
counsel; but the British lawyers thus got the fact fully before
the tribunal, and the tribunal naturally felt that in granting us
a sixty-mile radius--double that which Russia had asked of Great
Britain for a similar purpose--it was making a generous
provision. The conditions were practically the same at the
American and Russian seal islands; yet the Russian officials in
charge of the matter seemed entirely regardless of this fact,
and, indeed, of Russian interests. After secret negotiation with
Sir Robert, without the slightest hint to the American minister
of their intended sacrifice of their "identical interest with the
United States," they allowed this treachery to be sprung upon us.
The sixty-mile limit was established by the tribunal, and it has
proved utterly delusive. The result of this decision of the
tribunal was that this great industry of ours was undermined, if
not utterly destroyed; and that the United States were also
mulcted to the amount of several hundred thousand dollars,
besides the very great expense attending the presentation of her
case to the tribunal.

I now come back to the main point which has caused me to bring up
this matter in these reminiscences. How was it that Great Britain
obtained this victory? To what was it due? The answer is simple:
it was due to the fact that the whole matter at St. Petersburg
was sure to be decided, not by argument, but by "influence." Sir
Robert Morier had what in the Tammany vernacular is called a
"pull." His government had given him, as its representative, all
the means necessary to have his way in this and all other
questions like it; whereas the American Government had never
given its representative any such means or opportunities. The
British representative was an AMBASSADOR, and had a spacious,
suitable, and well-furnished house in which he could entertain
fitly and largely, and to which the highest Russian officials
thought it an honor to be invited. The American representatives
were simply MINISTERS; from time immemorial had never had such a
house; had generally no adequate place for entertaining; had to
live in apartments such as they might happen to find vacant in
various parts of the town--sometimes in very poor quarters,
sometimes in better; were obliged to furnish them at their own
expense; had, therefore, never been able to obtain a tithe of
that social influence, so powerful in Russia, which was exercised
by the British Embassy.

More than this, the British ambassador had adequate means
furnished him for exercising political influence. The American
representatives had not; they had been stinted in every way. The
British ambassador had a large staff of thoroughly trained
secretaries and attaches, the very best of their kind,--well
educated to begin with, thoroughly trained afterward,--serving as
antennae for Great Britain in Russian society; and as the first
secretary of his embassy he had no less a personage than Henry
Howard, now Sir Henry Howard, minister at The Hague, one of the
brightest, best-trained, and most experienced diplomatists in
Europe. The American representative was at that time provided
with only one secretary of legation, and he, though engaging and
brilliant, a casual appointment who remained in the country only
a few months. I had, indeed, secured a handsome and comfortable
apartment, and entertained at dinner and otherwise the leading
members of the Russian ministry and of the diplomatic corps, at a
cost of more than double my salary; but the influence thus
exercised was, of course, as nothing compared to that exercised
by a diplomatist like Sir Robert Morier, who had every sort of
resource at his command, who had been for perhaps forty years
steadily in the service of his country, and had learned by long
experience to know the men with whom he had to deal and the ways
of getting at them. His power in St. Petersburg was felt in a
multitude of ways: all officials at the Russian Foreign Office,
from the highest to the lowest, naturally desired to be on good
terms with him. They knew that his influence had become very
great and that it was best to have his friendship; they loved
especially to be invited to his dinners, and their families loved
to be invited to his balls. He was a POWER. The question above
referred to, of such importance to the United States, was not
decided by argument, but simply by the weight of social and other
influence, which counts so enormously in matters of this kind at
all European capitals, and especially in Russia. This condition
of things has since been modified by the change of the legation
into an embassy; but, as no house has been provided, the old
difficulty remains. The United States has not the least chance of
success, and under her present shabby system never will have, in
closely contested cases, with any of the great powers of the
earth. They provide fitly for their representatives; the United
States does not. The representatives of other powers, being thus
provided for, are glad to remain at their posts and to devote
themselves to getting a thorough mastery of everything connected
with diplomatic business; American representatives, obliged, as a
rule, to take up with uncomfortable quarters, finding their
position not what it ought to be as compared with that of the
representatives of other great powers, and obliged to expend much
more than their salaries, are generally glad to resign after a
brief term. Especially has this been the case in St. Petersburg.
The terms of our representatives there have generally been very
short. A few have stayed three or four years, but most have
stayed much shorter terms. In one case a representative of the
United States remained only three or four months, and in another
only six weeks. So marked was this tendency that the Emperor once
referred to it in a conversation with one of our representatives,
saying that he hoped that this American diplomatist would remain
longer than his predecessors had generally done.

The action of the Russian authorities in the Behring Sea
question, which is directly traceable to the superior policy of
Great Britain in maintaining a preponderating diplomatic,
political, and social influence at the Russian capital, cost our
government a sum which would have bought suitable houses in
several capitals, and would have given to each American
representative a proper staff of assistants. I have presented
this matter with reluctance, though I feel not the slightest
responsibility for my part in it. I do not think that any
right-minded man can blame me for it, any more than, in the
recent South African War, he could have blamed Lord Roberts, the
British general, if the latter had been sent to the Transvaal
with insufficient means, inadequate equipment, and an army far
inferior in numbers to that of his enemy.

I am not at all in this matter "a man with a grievance"; for I
knew what American representatives had to expect, and was not
disappointed. My feeling is simply that of an American citizen
whose official life is past, and who can look back
dispassionately and tell the truth plainly.

This case is presented simply in the hope that it will do
something to arouse thinking men in public life, and especially
in the Congress of the United States, to provide at least a
suitable house or apartment for the American representative in
each of the more important capitals of the world, as all other
great powers and many of the lesser nations have done. If I can
aid in bringing about this result, I care nothing for any
personal criticism which may be brought upon me.



CHAPTER XXXIV

INTERCOURSE WITH RUSSIAN STATESMEN--1892-1894

To return to Sir Robert Morier. There had been some friction
between his family and that of one of my predecessors, and this
had for some time almost ended social intercourse between his
embassy and our legation; but on my arrival I ignored this, and
we established very satisfactory personal relations. He had held
important positions in various parts of Europe, and had been
closely associated with many of the most distinguished men of his
own and other countries. Reading Grant Duff's "Memoirs," I find
that Morier's bosom friend, of all men in the world, was Jowett,
the late head of Oriel College at Oxford. But Sir Robert was at
the close of his career; his triumph in the Behring Sea matter
was his last. I met him shortly afterward at his last visit to
the Winter Palace: with great effort he mounted the staircase,
took his position at the head of the diplomatic circle, and,
immediately after his conversation with the Emperor, excused
himself and went home. This was the last time I ever saw him; he
returned soon afterward to England and died. His successor, Sir
Frank Lascelles, more recently my colleague at Berlin, is a very
different character. His manner is winning, his experience large
and interesting, his first post having been at Paris during the
Commune, and his latest at Teheran. Our relations became, and
have ever since remained, all that I could desire. He, too, in
every post, is provided with all that is necessary for
accomplishing the purposes of Great Britain, and will doubtless
win great success for his country, though not in exactly the same
way as his predecessor.

The French ambassador was the Comte de Montebello, evidently a
man of ability, but with perhaps less of the engaging qualities
than one generally expects in a French diplomatic representative.
The Turkish ambassador, Husny Pasha, like most Turkish
representatives whom I have met, had learned to make himself very
agreeable; but his position was rather trying: he had fought in
the Russo-Turkish War and had seen his country saved from the
most abject humiliation, if not destruction, only at the last
moment, by the Berlin Conference. His main vexation in St.
Petersburg arose from the religious feeling of the Emperor. Every
great official ceremony in Russia is prefaced, as a rule, by a
church service; hence Husny was excluded, since he felt bound to
wear the fez, and this the Emperor would not tolerate; though
there was really no more harm in his wearing this simple
head-gear in church than in a woman wearing her bonnet or a
soldier wearing his helmet.

Interesting, too, was the Italian ambassador, Marochetti, son of
the eminent sculptor, some of whose artistic ability he had
inherited. He was fond of exercising this talent; but it was
generally understood that his recall was finally due to the fact
that his diplomatic work had suffered in consequence.

The Austrian ambassador, Count Wolkenstein, was, in many things,
the most trustworthy of counselors; more than once, under trying
circumstances, I found his advice precious; for he knew,
apparently, in every court of Europe, the right man to approach,
and the right way to approach him, on every conceivable subject.

Of the ministers plenipotentiary the Dutch representative, Van
Stoetwegen, was the best counselor I found. He was shrewd, keen,
and kindly; but his tongue was sharp--so much so that it finally
brought about his recall. He made a remark one day which
especially impressed me. I had said to him, "I have just sent a
despatch to my government declaring my skepticism as to the
probability of any war in Europe for a considerable time to come.
When I arrived in Berlin eleven years ago all the knowing people
said that a general European war must break out within a few
months: in the spring they said it must come in the autumn; and
in the autumn they said it must come in the spring. All these
years have passed and there is still no sign of war. We hear the
same prophecies daily, but I learned long since not to believe in
them. War may come, but it seems to me more and more unlikely."
He answered, "I think you are right. I advise my own government
in the same sense. The fact is that war in these days is not what
it once was; it is infinitely more dangerous from every point of
view, and it becomes more and more so every day. Formerly a
crowned head, when he thought himself aggrieved, or felt that he
would enjoy a campaign, plunged into war gaily. If he succeeded,
all was well; if not, he hauled off to repair damages,--very much
as a pugilist would do after receiving a black eye in a fist
fight,--and in a short time the losses were repaired and all went
on as before. In these days the case is different: it is no
longer a simple contest in the open, with the possibility of a
black eye or, at most, of a severe bruise; it has become a matter
of life and death to whole nations. Instead of being like a fist
fight, it is like a combat between a lot of champions armed with
poisoned daggers, and in a dark room; if once the struggle
begins, no one knows how many will be drawn into it or who will
be alive at the end of it; the probabilities are that all will be
injured terribly and several fatally. War in these days means the
cropping up of a multitude of questions dangerous not only to
statesmen but to monarchs, and even to society itself. Monarchs
and statesmen know this well; and, no matter how truculent they
may at times appear, they really dread war above all things."

One of my colleagues at St. Petersburg was interesting in a very
different way from any of the others. This was Pasitch, the
Servian minister. He was a man of fine presence and, judging from
his conversation, of acute mind. He had some years before been
sentenced to death for treason, but since that had been prime
minister. Later he was again put on trial for his life at
Belgrade, charged with being a partner in the conspiracy which
resulted in the second attempt against the life of King Milan.
His speech before his judges, recently published, was an effort
worthy of a statesman, and carried the conviction to my mind that
he was not guilty.[3]


[3] He was found guilty, but escaped death by a bitter
humiliation: it was left for others to bring about Milan's
assassination.


The representatives of the extreme Orient were both interesting
personages, but the same difference prevailed there as elsewhere:
the Chinese was a mandarin, able to speak only through an
interpreter; the Japanese was trained in Western science, and
able to speak fluently both Russian and French. His successor,
whom I met at the Peace Conference of The Hague, spoke English
admirably.

Among the secretaries and attaches, several were very
interesting; and of these was the first British secretary Henry
Howard, now Sir Henry Howard, minister at The Hague. He and his
American wife were among the most delightful of associates.
Another in this category was the Bavarian secretary, Baron
Guttenberg, whom I often met later at Berlin. When I spoke to him
about a visit I had made to Wurzburg, and the desecration of the
magnificent old Romanesque cathedral there by plastering its
whole interior over with nude angels, and substituting for the
splendid old mediaeval carving Louis Quinze woodwork in white and
gold, he said: "Yes; you are right; and it was a bishop of my
family who did it."

As to Russian statesmen, I had the benefit of the fairly friendly
spirit which has usually been shown toward the American
representative in Russia by all in authority from the Emperor
down. I do not mean by this that the contentions of the American
Embassy are always met by speedy concessions, for among the most
trying of all things in diplomatic dealings with that country are
the long delays in all business; but a spirit is shown which, in
the long run, serves the purpose of our representative as regards
most questions.

It seems necessary here to give a special warning against putting
any trust in the epigram which has long done duty as a piece of
politico-ethnological wisdom: "Scratch a Russian and you will
find a Tartar." It would be quite as correct to say, "Scratch an
American and you will find an Indian." The simple fact is that
the Russian officials with whom foreigners have to do are men of
experience, and, as a rule, much like those whom one finds in
similar positions in other parts of Europe. A foreign
representative has to meet on business, not merely the Russian
minister of foreign affairs and the heads of departments in the
Foreign Office, but various other members of the imperial
cabinet, especially the ministers of finance, of war, of the
navy, of the interior, of justice, as well as the chief municipal
authorities of St. Petersburg; and I can say that many of these
gentlemen, both as men and as officials, are the peers of men in
similar positions in most other countries which I have known.
Though they were at times tenacious in questions between their
own people and ours, and though they held political doctrines
very different from those we cherish, I am bound to say that most
of them did so in a way which disarmed criticism. At the same
time I must confess a conviction which has more and more grown
upon me, that the popular view regarding the power, vigor, and
foresight of Russian statesmen is ill-founded. And it must be
added that Russian officials and their families are very
susceptible to social influences: a foreign representative who
entertains them frequently and well can secure far more for his
country than one who trusts to argument alone. In no part of the
world will a diplomatist more surely realize the truth embedded
in Oxenstiern's famous utterance, "Go forth, my son, and see with
how little wisdom the world is governed." When one sees what
really strong men might do in Russia, what vast possibilities
there are which year after year are utterly neglected, one cannot
but think that the popular impression regarding the superiority
of Russian statesmen is badly based. As a matter of fact, there
has not been a statesman of the first class, of Russian birth,
since Catherine the Great, and none of the second class unless
Nesselrode and the Emperor Nicholas are to be excepted. To
consider Prince Gortchakoff a great chancellor on account of his
elaborate despatches is absurd. The noted epigram regarding him
is doubtless just: "C'est un Narcisse qui se mire dans son
encrier."

To call him a great statesman in the time of Cavour Bismarck,
Lincoln, and Seward is preposterous. Whatever growth in
civilization Russia has made in the last forty years has been
mainly in spite of the men who have posed as her statesmen; the
atmosphere of Russian autocracy is fatal to greatness in any
form.

The emancipation of the serfs was due to a policy advocated by
the first Nicholas and carried out under Alexander II; but it was
made possible mainly by Miloutine, Samarine, Tcherkassky, and
other subordinates, who never were allowed to approach the first
rank as state servants. This is my own judgment, founded on
observation and reading during half a century, and it is the
quiet judgment of many who have had occasion to observe Russia
longer and more carefully.

Next, as to the Foreign Office. Nearly a hundred years ago
Napoleon compared Alexander I and those about him to "Greeks of
the Lower Empire." That saying was repelled as a slander; but,
ever since it was uttered, the Russian Foreign Office seems to
have been laboring to deserve it. There are chancelleries in the
world which, when they give promises, are believed and trusted.
Who, in the light of the last fifty years, would claim that the
Russian Foreign Office is among these? Its main reputation is for
astuteness finally brought to naught; it has constantly been "too
clever by half."

Take the loudly trumpeted peace proposals to the world made by
Nicholas II. When the nations got together at The Hague to carry
out the Czar's supposed purpose, it was found that all was
haphazard; that no adequate studies had been made, no project
prepared; in fact, that the Emperor's government had virtually
done nothing showing any real intention to set a proper example.
Nothing but the high character and abilities of M. de Martens and
one or two of his associates saved the prestige of the Russian
Foreign Office at that time. Had there been a man of real power
in the chancellorship or in the ministry of foreign affairs, he
would certainly have advised the Emperor to dismiss to useful
employments, say, two hundred to two hundred and fifty thousand
troops, which he could have done without the slightest
danger--thus showing that he was in earnest, crippling the war
clique, and making the beginning of a great reform which all
Europe would certainly have been glad to follow. But there was
neither the wisdom nor the strength required to advise and carry
through such a measure. Deference to the "military party" and
petty fear of a loss of military prestige were all-controlling.

Take the army and the navy departments. In these, if anywhere,
Russia has been thought strong. The main occupation of leading
Russians for a hundred years has been, not the steady uplifting
of the people in intellect and morals, not the vigorous
development of natural resources, but preparations for war on
land and sea. This has been virtually the one business of the
main men of light and leading from the emperors and grand dukes
down. Drill and parade have been apparently everything: the
strengthening of the empire by the education of the people, and
the building of industrial prosperity as a basis for a great army
and navy, seem to have been virtually nothing. The results are
now before the world for the third time since 1815.

An objector may remind me of the emancipation of the serfs. I do
not deny the greatness and nobleness of Alexander II and the
services of the men he then called to his aid; but I lived in
Russia both before and since that reform, and feel obliged to
testify that, thus far, its main purpose has been so thwarted by
reactionaries that there is, as yet, little, if any, practical
difference between the condition of the Russian peasant before
and since obtaining his freedom.

Take the dealings with Finland. The whole thing is monstrous. It
is both comedy and tragedy. Finland is by far the best-developed
part of the empire; it stands on a higher plane than do the other
provinces as regards every element of civilization; it has
steadily been the most loyal of all the realms of the Czar.
Nihilism and anarchism have never gained the slightest foothold;
yet to-day there is nobody in the whole empire strong enough to
prevent sundry bigots--military and ecclesiastical--leading the
Emperor to violate his coronation oath; to make the simple
presentation of a petition to him treasonable; to trample Finland
under his feet; to wrong grievously and insult grossly its whole
people; to banish and confiscate the property of its best men; to
muzzle its press; to gag its legislators; and thus to lower the
whole country to the level of the remainder of Russia.

During my stay in Russia at the time of the Crimean War, I had
been interested in the Finnish peasants whom I saw serving on the
gunboats. There was a sturdiness, heartiness, and loyalty about
them which could not fail to elicit good-will; but during this
second stay in Russia my sympathies with them were more
especially enlisted. During the hot weather of the first summer
my family were at the Finnish capital, Helsingfors, at the point
where the Gulf of Finland opens into the Baltic. The whole people
deeply interested me. Here was one of the most important
universities of Europe, a noble public library, beautiful
buildings, and throughout the whole town an atmosphere of
cleanliness and civilization far superior to that which one finds
in any Russian city. Having been added to Russia by Alexander I
under his most solemn pledges that it should retain its own
constitutional government, it had done so up to the time of my
stay; and the results were evident throughout the entire grand
duchy. While in Russia there had been from time immemorial a
debased currency, the currency of Finland was as good as gold;
while in Russia all public matters bore the marks of arbitrary
repression, in Finland one could see the results of enlightened
discussion; while in Russia the peasant is but little, if any,
above Asiatic barbarism, the Finnish peasant--simple, genuine--is
clearly far better developed both morally and religiously. It is
a grief to me in these latter days to see that the measures which
were then feared have since been taken. There seems a
determination to grind down Finland to a level with Russia in
general. We heard, not long since, much sympathy expressed for
the Boers in South Africa in their struggle against England; but
infinitely more pathetic is the case of Finland. The little grand
duchy has done what it could to save itself, but it recognizes
the fact that its two millions of people are utterly powerless
against the brute force of the one hundred and twenty millions of
the Russian Empire. The struggle in South Africa meant, after
all, that if worst came to worst, the Boers would, within a
generation or two, enjoy a higher type of constitutional liberty
than they ever could have developed under any republic they could
have established; but Finland is now forced to give up her
constitutional government and to come under the rule of brutal
Russian satraps. These have already begun their work. All is to
be "Russified": the constitutional bodies are to be virtually
abolished; the university is to be brought down to the level of
Dorpat--once so noted as a German university, now so worthless as
a Russian university; for the simple Protestantism of the people
is to be substituted the fetishism of the Russo-Greek Church. It
is the saddest spectacle of our time. Previous emperors, however
much they wished to do so, did not dare break their oaths to
Finland; but the present weakling sovereign, in his indifference,
carelessness, and absolute unfitness to rule, has allowed the
dominant reactionary clique about him to accomplish its own good
pleasure. I put on record here the prophecy that his dynasty, if
not himself, will be punished for it. All history shows that no
such crime has gone unpunished. It is a far greater crime than
the partition of Poland; for Poland had brought her fate on
herself, while Finland has been the most loyal part of the
empire. Not even Moscow herself has been more thoroughly devoted
to Russia and the reigning dynasty. The young monarch whose
weakness has led to this fearful result will bring retribution
upon himself and those who follow him. The Romanoffs will yet
find that "there is a Power in the universe, not ourselves, which
makes for righteousness." The house of Hapsburg and its
satellites found this in the humiliating end of their reign in
Italy; the house of Valois found it, after the massacre of St.
Bartholomew, in their own destruction; the Bourbons found it,
after the driving out of the Huguenots and the useless wars of
Louis XIV and XV, in the French Revolution which ended their
dynasty. Both the Napoleons met their punishment after violating
the rights of human nature. The people of the United States,
after the Fugitive Slave Law, found their punishment in the Civil
War, which cost nearly a million of lives and, when all is
reckoned, ten thousand millions of treasure.

When I talked with this youth before he came to the throne, and
saw how little he knew of his own empire,--how absolutely unaware
he was that the famine was continuing for a second year in
various important districts, there resounded in my ears, as so
often at other times, the famous words of Oxenstiern to his son,
"Go forth, my son, and see with how little wisdom the world is
governed."

Pity to say it, the European sovereign to whom Nicholas II can be
most fully compared is Charles IX of France, under the influence
of his family and men and women courtiers and priests,
authorizing the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The punishment to be
meted out to him and his house is sure.[4]


[4] The above was written before the Russian war with Japan and
the assassinations of Bobrikoff, Plehve, and others were dreamed
of. My prophecy seems likely to be realized far earlier than I
had thought possible.



As I revise these lines, we see another exhibition of the same
weakness and folly. The question between Russia and Japan could
have been easily and satisfactorily settled in a morning talk by
any two business men of average ability; but the dominant clique
has forced on one of the most terrible wars in history, which
bids fair to result in the greatest humiliation Russia has ever
known.

The same thing may be said regarding Russia's dealings with the
Baltic provinces. The "Russification" which has been going on
there for some years is equally absurd, equally wicked, and sure
to be equally disastrous.

The first Russian statesman with whom I had to do was the
minister of foreign affairs, M. de Giers; but he was dying. I saw
him twice in retirement at Tzarskoye Selo, and came to respect
him much. He spoke at length regarding the entente between Russia
and France, and insisted that it was not in the interest of war
but of peace. "Tell your government," he said, "that the closer
the lines are drawn which bind Russia and France, the more
strongly will Russian influence be used to hold back the French
from war."

At another time he discoursed on the folly of war, and especially
regarding the recent conflict between Russia and Turkey. He spoke
of its wretched results, of the ingratitude which Russia had
experienced from the peoples she had saved from the Turks, and
finally, with extreme bitterness, of the vast sums of money
wasted in it which could have been used in raising the condition
of the Russian peasantry. He spoke with the conviction of a dying
man, and I felt that he was sincere. At the same time I felt it a
pity that under the Russian system there is no chance for such a
man really to enforce his ideas. For one day he may be in the
ascendancy with the autocrat; and the next, through the influence
of grand dukes, women, priests, or courtiers, the very opposite
ideas may become dominant.

The men with whom I had more directly to do at the Foreign Office
were the acting minister, Shishkin, who had formerly been at
Washington, and the head of the Asiatic department, Count
Kapnist. They were agreeable in manner; but it soon became clear
that, regarding the question of the Behring seal-fisheries, they
were pursuing a policy of their own, totally distinct from the
interests of the empire. Peter the Great would have beheaded both
of them.

The strongest man among the Czar's immediate advisers was
understood to be the finance minister, De Witte. There always
seemed in him a certain sullen force. The story usually told of
his rise in the world is curious. It is, in effect, that when the
Emperor Alexander II and his family were wrecked in their special
train at Borki, many of their attendants were killed; and the
world generally, including the immediate survivors of the
catastrophe, believed for some time that it was the result of a
nihilist plot. There was, therefore, a general sweeping into
prison of subordinat'e railway officials; and among these was De
Witte, then in charge of a railway station. During the
examinations which ensued he showed himself so clear-headed and
straightforward that he attracted attention was promoted, put
into the finance ministry, and finally advanced to the first
place in it. His dealings with Russian finances have since shown
great capacity: he has brought the empire out of the slough of
depreciated currency and placed it firmly on a gold basis. I came
especially to know him when he offered, through me, to the United
States a loan of gold to enable us to tide over our difficulties
with the currency question. He informed me that Russia had in her
treasury many millions of rubles in American gold eagles, and
that the Russian gold reserve then in the treasury was about six
hundred millions of rubles.

The only result was that I was instructed to convey the thanks of
the President to him, there being no law enabling us to take
advantage of his offer. What he wished to do was to make a call
loan, whereas our Washington Government could obtain gold only by
issuing bonds.

I also met him in a very interesting way when I presented to him
Rabbi Krauskopf of Philadelphia, who discussed the question of
allowing sundry Israelites who were crowded into the western
districts of the empire to be transferred to some of the less
congested districts, on condition that funds for that purpose be
furnished from their coreligionists in America. De Witte's
discussion of the whole subject was liberal and statesmanlike.
Unfortunately, there was, as I believe, a fundamental error in
his general theory, which is the old Russian idea at the bottom
of the autocracy--namely, that the State should own everything.
More and more he went on extending government ownership to the
railways, until the whole direction and management of them
virtually centered in his office.

On this point he differed widely from his predecessor in the
finance ministry, Wischniegradsky. I had met the latter years
before, at the Paris Exposition, when he was at the head of the
great technical school in Moscow, and found him instructive and
interesting. Now I met him after his retirement from the finance
ministry. Calling on him one day, I said: "You will probably
build your trans-Siberian railway at a much less cost than we
were able to build our first trans-continental railway; you will
do it directly, by government funds, and so will probably not
have to make so many rich men as we did." His answer impressed me
strongly. He said: "As to a government building a railway more
cheaply than private individuals, I decidedly doubt; but I would
favor private individuals building it, even if the cost were
greater. I like to see rich men made; they are what Russia most
needs at this moment. What can capitalists do with their money?
They can't eat it or drink it: they have to invest it in other
enterprises; and such enterprises, to be remunerative, must meet
the needs of the people. Capitalists are far more likely to
invest their money in useful enterprises, and to manage these
investments well, than any finance minister can be, no matter how
gifted."

That he was right the history of Russia is showing more and more
every day. To return to M. de Witte, it seemed strange to most
onlookers that the present Emperor threw him out of the finance
ministry, in which he had so greatly distinguished himself, and
shelved him in one of those bodies, such as the council of state
or the senate, which exist mainly as harbors or shelters for
dismissed functionaries. But really there was nothing singular
about it. As regards the main body at court, from the grand
dukes, the women, etc., down, he had committed the sin of which
Turgot and Necker were guilty when they sought to save France but
found that the women, princes, and favorites of poor Louis XVI's
family were determined to dip their hands into the state
treasury, and were too strong to be controlled. Ruin followed the
dismissal of Turgot and Necker then, and seems to be following
the dismissal of De Witte now: though as I revise this chapter
word comes that the Emperor has recalled him.

No doubt Prince Khilkoff, who has come in as minister of internal
communications since my departure from Russia, is also a strong
man; but no functionary can take the place of a great body of
individuals who invest their own money in public works throughout
an entire nation.

There was also another statesman in a very different field whom I
found exceedingly interesting,--a statesman who had gained a
power in the empire second to no other save the Emperor himself,
and had centered in himself more hatred than any other Russian of
recent times,--the former Emperor's tutor and virtual minister as
regards ecclesiastical affairs, Pobedonostzeff. His theories are
the most reactionary of all developed in modern times; and his
hand was then felt, and is still felt, in every part of the
empire, enforcing those theories. Whatever may be thought of his
wisdom, his patriotism is not to be doubted. Though I differ from
him almost totally, few men have so greatly interested me, and
one of the following chapters will be devoted to him.

But there were some other so-called statesmen toward whom I had a
very different feeling. One of these was the minister of the
interior. Nothing could be more delusive than his manner. He
always seemed about to accede to the ideas of his interlocutor,
but he had one fundamental idea of his own, and only one; and
that was, evidently, never to do anything which he could possibly
avoid. He always seemed to me a sort of great jellyfish, looking
as if he had a mission to accomplish, but, on closer examination,
proving to be without consistency, and slippery. His theory
apparently was, "No act, no responsibility"; and throughout the
Russian Empire this principle of action, or, rather, of inaction,
appears to be very widely diffused.

I had one experience with this functionary, who, I am happy to
say, has since been relieved of his position and shelved among
the do-nothings of the Russian senate, which showed me what he
was. Two American ladies of the best breeding and culture, and
bearing the most satisfactory letters of introduction, had been
staying in St. Petersburg, and had met, at my table and
elsewhere, some of the most interesting people in Russian
society. From St. Petersburg they had gone to Moscow; and, after
a pleasant stay there, had left for Vienna by way of Warsaw.
Returning home late at night, about a week afterward, I found an
agonizing telegram from them, stating that they had been stopped
at the Austrian frontier and sent back fifty miles to a dirty
little Russian village; that their baggage had all gone on to
Vienna; that, there being no banker in the little hamlet where
they were, their letter of credit was good for nothing; that all
this was due to the want of the most trivial of formalities in a
passport; that they had obtained all the vises supposed to be
needed at St. Petersburg and at Moscow; and that, though the
American consul at Warsaw had declared these to be sufficient to
take them out of the empire, they had been stopped by a petty
Russian official because they had no vise from the Warsaw police.

Early next morning I went to the minister of the interior,
presented the case to him, told him all about these
ladies,--their high standing, the letters they had brought, the
people they had met,--assured him that nothing could be further
from possibility than the slightest tendency on their part toward
any interference with the Russian Government, and asked him to
send a telegram authorizing their departure. He was most profuse
in his declarations of his willingness to help. Nothing in the
world, apparently, would give him more pleasure; and, though
there was a kind of atmosphere enveloping his talk which I did
not quite like, I believed that the proper order would be given.
But precious time went on, and again came telegrams from the
ladies that nothing was done. Again I went to the minister to
urge the matter upon his attention; again he assumed the same
jellyfish condition, pleasing but evasive. Then I realized the
situation; went at once to the prefect of St. Petersburg, General
von Wahl, although it was not strictly within his domain; and he,
a man of character and vigor, took the necessary measures and the
ladies were released.

Like so many other persons whom I have known who came into Russia
and were delighted with it during their whole stay, these ladies
returned to America most bitter haters of the empire and of
everything within it.

As to Von Wahl, who seemed to me one of the very best Russian
officials I met, he has since met reward for his qualities: from
the Czar a transfer to a provincial governorship, and from the
anarchists a bullet which, though intended to kill him, only
wounded him.

Many were the sufferers from this feature in Russian
administration--this shirking of labor and responsibility. Among
these was a gentleman belonging to one of the most honored
Russian families, who was greatly devoted to fruit-culture, and
sought to bring the products of his large estates in the south of
Russia into Moscow and St. Petersburg. He told me that he had
tried again and again, but the officials shrugged their shoulders
and would not take the trouble; that finally he had induced them
to give him a freight-car and to bring a load of fruit to St.
Petersburg as soon as possible; but, though the journey ought to
have taken only three or four days, it actually took several
weeks; and, of course, all the fruit was spoiled. As I told him
of the fruit-trains which bring the products of California across
our continent and distribute them to the Atlantic ports, even
enabling them to be found fresh in the markets of London, he
almost shed tears. This was another result of state control of
railways. As a matter of fact, there is far more and better fruit
to be seen on the tables of artisans in most American towns,
however small, than in the lordliest houses of Moscow and St.
Petersburg; and this solely because in our country energetic men
conduct transportation with some little ambition to win public
approval and patronage, while in Russia a horde of state
officials shirk labor and care as much as possible.

Still another sufferer was a very energetic man who had held
sundry high positions, but was evidently much discouraged. He
showed me specimens of various rich ores from different parts of
the empire, but lamented that there was no one to take hold of
the work of bringing out these riches. It was perfectly clear
that with the minister of the interior at that time, as in sundry
other departments, the great question was "how not to do it."
Evidently this minister and functionaries like him felt that if
great enterprises and industries were encouraged, they would
become so large as to be difficult to manage; hence, that it
would be more comfortable to keep things within as moderate
compass as possible.

To this easy-going view of public duty there were a few notable
exceptions. While De Witte was the most eminent of these, there
was one who has since become sadly renowned, and who, as I revise
these lines, has just perished by the hand of an assassin. This
official was De Plehve, who, during my acquaintance with him, was
only an undersecretary in the interior department, but was
taking, apparently, all the important duties from his superior,
M. Dournovo. At various times I met him to discuss the status of
sundry American insurance companies in Russia, and was favorably
impressed by his insight, vigor, and courtesy. It was, therefore,
a surprise to me when, on becoming a full minister, he bloomed
out as a most bitter, cruel, and evidently short-sighted
reactionary. The world stood amazed at the murderous cruelties
against the Jews at Kishineff, which he might easily have
prevented; and nothing more cruel or short-sighted than his
dealings with Finland has been known since Louis XIV revoked the
Edict of Nantes. I can only explain his course by supposing that
he sought to win the favor of the reactionary faction which, up
to the present time, has controlled the Czar, and thus to fight
his way toward the highest power. He made of the most loyal and
happy part of the empire the most disloyal and wretched; he
pitted himself against the patriotism, the sense of justice, and
all the highest interests and sentiments of the Finnish people;
and he met his death at the hands of an avenger, who, in
destroying the enemy of his country, has struck a fearful blow at
his country's happiness.

While a thoughtful American must condemn much which he sees in
Russia, there is one thing which he cannot but admire and
contrast to the disadvantage of his own country; and this is the
fact that Russia sets a high value upon its citizenship. Its
value, whatever it may be, is the result of centuries of
struggles, of long outpourings of blood and treasure; and
Russians believe that it has been bought at too great a price and
is in every way too precious to be lavished and hawked about as a
thing of no value. On the other hand, when one sees how the
citizenship of the United States, which ought to be a millionfold
more precious than that of Russia, is conferred loosely upon tens
of thousands of men absolutely unfit to exercise it,--whose
exercise of it seems, at times, likely to destroy republican
government; when one sees the power of conferring it granted to
the least respectable class of officials at the behest of ward
politicians, without proper safeguards and at times without any
regard to the laws; when one sees it prostituted by men of the
most unfit class,--and, indeed, of the predatory class,--who have
left Europe just long enough to obtain it, and then left America
in order to escape the duties both of their native and their
adopted country, and to avail themselves of the privileges of
both citizenships without one thought of the duties of either,
using them often in careers of scoundrelism,--one feels that
Russia is nearer the true ideal in this respect than we are.

As a matter of fact, there is with us no petty joint-stock
company in which an interest is not virtually held to be superior
to this citizenship of ours for which such sacrifices have been
made, and for which so many of our best men have laid down their
lives. No stockholder in the pettiest manufacturing company
dreams of admitting men to share in it unless they show their
real fitness to be thus admitted; but admission to American
citizenship is surrounded by no such safeguards: it has been
cheapened and prostituted until many who formerly revered it have
come to scoff at it. From this evil, at least, Russia is free.



CHAPTER XXXV

"ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN" IN RUSSIA--1892-1894

Still another department which interested me was that known as
the "Ministry of Public Enlightenment," its head being Count
Delyanoff. He was certainly a man of culture; but the title of
his department was a misnomer, for its duty was clearly to
prevent enlightenment in the public at large. The Russian theory
is, evidently, that a certain small number should be educated up
to a certain point for the discharge of their special duties; but
that, beyond this, anything like the general education of the
people is to be discouraged; hence the Russian peasant is the
most ignorant and helpless in Christendom.

There was evidently a disposition among very many of the most
ardent Russians to make a merit of this imperfect civilization,
and to cultivate hatred for any people whom they clearly saw
possessing anything better: hence it came that, just as so many
Frenchmen hate Great Britain, and so many in the backward,
slipshod regions of our country hate New England, it was quite
the fashion among large classes of Russians to hate everything
German, and especially to detest the Baltic provinces.

One evening during my stay a young Russian at a social gathering
of military and other officials voiced this feeling by saying, "I
hope the time will soon come when we shall have cleared out all
these Germans from the Russian service; they are the curse of the
country." Thereupon a young American present, who was especially
noted for his plain speaking, immediately answered, "How are you
going to do it? I notice that, as a rule, you rarely give a
position which really involves high responsibility to a Russian;
you generally give it to a German. When the Emperor goes to the
manoeuvers, does he dare trust his immediate surroundings to a
Russian? Never; he intrusts them to General Richter, who is a
Baltic-Province German. And when his Majesty is here in town does
he dare trust his personal safety to a Russian? Not at all; he
relies on Von Wahl, prefect of St. Petersburg, another German."
And so this plain-spoken American youth went on with a full
catalogue of leading Baltic-Province Germans in positions of the
highest responsibility, finally saying, "You know as well as I
that if the salvation of the Emperor depended on any one of you,
and you should catch sight of a pretty woman, you would instantly
forget your sovereign and run after her."

Richter and Von Wahl I knew, and they were certainly men whom one
could respect,--thoughtful, earnest, devoted to duty. Whenever
one saw the Emperor at a review, Richter was close at hand;
whenever their Majesties were at the opera, or in any public
place, there was Von Wahl with his eyes fastened upon them.

The young American might now add that when a man was needed to
defend Port Arthur another German was chosen--Stoessel, whose
heroism the whole world is now applauding, as it once applauded
Todleben, the general of German birth who carried off the Russian
laurels of the Crimean War.

One Russian official for whom there seemed to be deep and wide
respect was Count Woronzoff-Daschkoff; and I think that our
irrepressible American would have made an exception in his favor.
Calling upon him one day regarding the distribution of American
relief to famine-stricken peasants, I was much impressed by his
straightforward honesty: he was generally credited with stopping
the time-honored pilfering and plundering at the Winter Palace.

One of the most interesting of all the Russians I met was General
Annenkoff. His brother-in-law, Struve, Russian minister at
Washington, having given me a letter to him, our relations became
somewhat close. He had greatly distinguished himself by building
the trans-Caucasian railway, but his main feat had been the
annexation of Bokhara. The story, as told me by a member of his
family, is curious. While superintending his great force of men
and pushing on the laying of the rails through the desert, his
attention was suddenly called to some horsemen in the distance,
riding toward him with all their might. On their arrival their
leader was discovered to be a son of the Ameer of Bokhara. That
potentate having just died, the other sons were trying to make
their way to the throne by cutting each other's throats, but this
one had thought it wise to flee to the Russians for safety.
Annenkoff saw the point at once: with a large body of his cavalry
he started immediately for Bokhara, his guest by his side; pushed
his way through all obstacles; seated the young prince on the
throne; and so made him a Russian satrap. I shall speak later of
the visit of this prince to St. Petersburg. It was evident that
Annenkoff, during my stay, was not in favor. It was said that he
had been intrusted with large irrigation-works in order to give
employment to peasants during the famine, and that he had not
managed them well; but it was clear that this was not the main
difficulty: he was evidently thought too progressive and liberal,
and in that seething caldron of intrigue which centers at the
Winter Palace his ambitions had come to grief.

Another Russian who interested me was Glalkin Wraskoy. He was
devoted, night and day, to improving the Russian prison system.
That there was much need of such work was certain; but the fact
that this personage in government employ was so devoted to
improvements, and had called together in Russia a convention of
men interested in the amelioration of prison systems, led me to
think that the Russian Government is not so utterly and wilfully
cruel in its prison arrangements as the Western world has been
led to think.

Another interesting Russian was Count Orloff Davidoff; and on my
meeting him, just after his return from the Chicago Exposition,
at General Annenkoff's table, he entertained me with his
experiences. On my asking him what was the most amusing thing he
had seen in America, he answered that it was a "sacred concert,"
on Sunday, at a church in Colorado Springs, in which the music of
Strauss's waltzes and Offenbach's comic songs were leading
features, the audience taking them all very solemnly.

In the literary direction I found Prince John Galitzin's readings
from French dramas delightful. As to historical studies, the most
interesting man I found was Professor Demetrieff, who was brought
to my house by Pobedonostzeff. I had been reading Billbassoff's
"Life of the Empress Catherine"; and, on my asking some questions
regarding it, the professor said that at the death of the
Empress, her son, the Emperor Paul, intrusted the examination of
her papers to Rostopchine, who, on going through them, found a
casket containing letters and the like, which she had evidently
considered especially precious, and among these a letter from
Orloff, giving the details of the murder of her husband, Peter
III, at Ropscha. The letter, in substance, stated that Orloff and
his associates, having attempted to seize Peter, who was
evidently on his way to St. Petersburg to imprison the Empress
Catherine,--if not to put her to death,--the Emperor had
resisted; and that finally, in the struggle, he had been killed.
Professor Demetrieff then said that the Emperor Paul showed these
papers to his sons Alexander and Nicholas, who afterward
succeeded him on the throne, and expressed his devout
thankfulness that the killing of Peter III was not intentional,
and therefore that their grandmother was not a murderess.

This reminds me that, at my first visit to St. Petersburg, I
often passed, during my walks, the old palace of Paul, and that
there was one series of windows carefully barred: these belonging
to the rooms in which the Emperor Paul himself was assassinated
in order to protect the life of his son Alexander and of the
family generally.

Another Russian, Prince Serge Wolkonsky, was certainly the most
versatile man I have ever known: a playwright, an actor, an
essayist, an orator, a lecturer, and admirable in each of these
capacities. At a dinner given me, just before my departure from
St. Petersburg, by the Russians who had taken part in the Chicago
Exposition, I was somewhat troubled by the fact that the speeches
of the various officials were in Russian, and that, as I so
imperfectly understood them, I could not know what line to take
when my own speech came; but presently the chairman, Minister
Delyanoff, called upon young Prince Serge, who came forward very
modestly and, in admirable English, gave a summary of the whole
series of Russian speeches for my benefit, concluding with an
excellent speech of his own. His speeches and addresses at
Chicago were really remarkable; and, when he revisited America,
his lectures on Russian literature at Cornell University, at
Washington, and elsewhere, were worthy of the College de France.
This young man could speak fluently and idiomatically, not only
his own language, but English, French, German, Italian, and I
know not how many other tongues.

To meet scientific men of note my wont was to visit the Latin
Quarter; and there, at the house of Professor Woeikoff of St.
Petersburg University, I met, at various times, a considerable
body of those best worth knowing. One of those who made an
especially strong impression upon me was Admiral Makharoff.
Recently has come news of his death while commanding the Russian
fleet at Port Arthur--his flag-ship, with nearly all on board,
sunk by a torpedo. At court, in the university quarter, and later
at Washington, I met him often, and rated him among the
half-dozen best Russians I ever knew. Having won fame as a
vigorous and skilful commander in the Turkish war, he was
devoting himself to the scientific side of his profession. He had
made a success of his colossal ice-breaker in various northern
waters, and was now giving his main thoughts to the mapping out,
on an immense scale, of all the oceans, as regards winds and
currents. As explained by him, with quiet enthusiasm, it seemed
likely to be one of the greatest triumphs of the inductive method
since Lord Bacon. With Senator Semenoff and Prince Gregory
Galitzin I had very interesting talks on their Asiatic travels,
and was greatly impressed by the simplicity and strength of
Mendeleieff, who is certainly to-day one of two or three foremost
living authorities in chemistry. Although men of science, unless
they hold high official positions, are not to be seen at court, I
was glad to find that there were some Russian nobles who
appreciated them; and an admirable example of this was once shown
at my own house. It was at a dinner, when there was present a
young Russian of very high lineage; and I was in great doubt as
to the question of precedence, this being a matter of grave
import under the circumstances. At last my wife went to the
nobleman himself and asked him frankly regarding it. His answer
did him credit: he said, "I should be ashamed to take precedence
here of a man like Mendeleieff, who is an honor to Russia in the
eyes of the whole world; and I earnestly hope that he may be
given the first place."

There were also various interesting women in St. Petersburg
society, the reception afternoons of two of them being especially
attractive: they were, indeed, in the nature of the French salons
under the old regime.

One of these ladies--the Princess Wolkonsky--seemed to interest
all men not absorbed in futilities; and the result was that one
heard at her house the best men in St. Petersburg discussing the
most interesting questions.

The other was the Austrian ambassadress, Countess Wolkenstein,
whom I had slightly known, years before, as Countess Schleinitz,
wife of the minister of the royal household at Berlin. On her
afternoons one heard the best talk by the most interesting men;
and it was at the salons of these two ladies that there took
place the conversations which I have recorded in my "History of
the Warfare of Science," showing the development of a legend
regarding the miraculous cure of the Archbishop of St. Petersburg
by Father Ivan of Cronstadt.

Another place which especially attracted me was the house of
General Ignatieff, formerly ambassador at Constantinople, where,
on account of his alleged want of scruples in bringing on the war
with Russia, he received the nickname "Mentir Pasha." His wife
was the daughter of Koutousoff, the main Russian opponent of
Napoleon in 1812; and her accounts of Russia in her earlier days
and of her life in Constantinople were at times fascinating.

I remember meeting at her house, on one occasion, the Princess
Ourousoff, who told me that the Emperor Alexander had said to
her, "I wish that every one could see Sardou's play 'Thermidor'
and discover what revolution really is"; and that she had
answered, "Revolutions are prepared long before they break out."
That struck me as a very salutary bit of philosophy, which every
Russian monarch would do well to ponder.

The young Princess Radzivill was also especially attractive. In
one of her rooms hung a portrait of Balzac, taken just after
death, and it was most striking. This led her to give me very
interesting accounts of her aunt, Madame de Hanska, to whom
Balzac wrote his famous letters, and whom he finally married. I
met at her house another lady of high degree, to whom my original
introduction had been somewhat curious. Dropping in one afternoon
at the house of Henry Howard, the British first secretary, I met
in the crowd a large lady, simply dressed, whom I had never seen
before. Being presented to her, and not happening to catch her
name, I still talked on, and found that she had traveled, first
in Australia, then in California, thence across our continent to
New York; and her accounts of what she had seen interested me
greatly. But some little time afterward I met her again at the
house of Princess Radzivill, and then found that she was the
English Duchess of Buckingham. One day I had been talking with
the Princess and her guest on the treasures of the Imperial
Library, and especially the wonderful collection of autographs,
among them the copy-book of Louis XIV when a child, which showed
the pains taken to make him understand, even in his boyhood, that
he was an irresponsible autocrat. On one of its pages the line to
be copied ran as follows:

L'hommage est du aux Roys, ils font ce qu'il leur plaist.--LOUIS.

Under this the budding monarch had written the same words six
times, with childish care to keep the strokes straight and the
spaces regular. My account of this having led the princess to ask
me to take her and her friend to the library and to show them
some of these things, I gladly agreed, wrote the director,
secured an appointment for a certain afternoon, and when the time
came called for the ladies. But a curious contretemps arose. I
had met, the day before, two bright American ladies, and on their
asking me about the things best worth seeing, I had especially
recommended them to visit the Imperial Library. On arriving at
the door with the princess and the duchess, I was surprised to
find that no preparations had been made to meet us,--in fact,
that our coming seemed to be a matter of surprise; and a
considerable time elapsed before the director and other officials
came to us. Then I learned what the difficulty was. The two
American ladies, in perfectly good faith, had visited the library
a few hours before; and, on their saying that the American
minister had recommended them to come, it had been taken for
granted at once that THEY were the princess and the duchess, and
they had been shown everything with almost regal honors, the
officials never discovering the mistake until our arrival.

The American colony at St. Petersburg was very small. Interesting
compatriots came from time to time on various errands, and I was
glad to see them; but one whose visits were most heartily
welcomed was a former consul, Mr. Prince, an original, shrewd
"down-easter," and his reminiscences of some of my predecessors
were full of interest to me.

One especially dwells in my mind. It had reference to a former
senator of the United States who, about the year 1840, was sent
to Russia as minister. There were various evidences in the
archives of the legation that sobriety was not this gentleman's
especial virtue, and among them very many copies of notes in
which the minister, through the secretary of legation, excused
himself from keeping engagements at the Foreign Office on the
ground of "sudden indisposition."

Mr. Prince told me that one day this minister's valet, who was an
Irishman, came to the consulate and said: "Oi 'll not stay wid
his igsillincy anny longer; Oi 've done wid him."

"What's the trouble now?' said Mr. Prince.

"Well," said the man, "this morning Oi thought it was toime to
get his igsillincy out of bed, for he had been dhrunk about a
week and in bed most of the toime; and so Oi went to him, and
says Oi, gentle-loike, 'Would your igsillincy have a cup of
coffee?' whin he rose up and shtruck me in the face. On that Oi
took him by the collar, lifted him out of bed, took him acrass
the room, showed him his ugly face in the glass, and Oi said to
him, says Oi, 'Is thim the eyes of an invoy extraorr-rrdinarry
and ministher plinipotentiarry?'"

Among interesting reminders of my predecessors was a letter in
the archives, written about the year 1832 by Mr. Buchanan,
afterward senator, minister in London, Secretary of State, and
President of the United States. It was a friendly missive to an
official personage in our country, and went on somewhat as
follows: "I feel almost ashamed to tell you that your letters to
me, mine to you, and, indeed, everything that has come and gone
between us by mail, has been read by other eyes than ours. This
was true of your last letter to me, and, without doubt, it will
be true of this letter. Can you imagine it? Think of the moral
turpitude of a creature employed to break open private letters
and to read them! Can you imagine work more degrading? What a
dirty dog he must be! how despicable, indeed, he must seem to
himself!" And so Mr. Buchanan went on until he wound up as
follows: "Not only does this person read private letters, but he
is a forger: he forges seals, and I regret to say that his
imitation of the eagle on our legation seal is a VERY SORRY
BIRD." Whether this dose had any salutary effect on the official
concerned I never learned.

The troubles of an American representative at St. Petersburg are
many, and they generally begin with the search for an apartment.
It is very difficult indeed in that capital to find a properly
furnished suite of rooms for a minister, and since the American
representative has been made an ambassador this difficulty is
greater than ever. In my own case, by especial luck and large
outlay, I was able to surmount it; but many others had not been
so fortunate, and the result had generally been that, whereas
nearly every other power owned or held on long lease a house or
apartment for its representative,--simple, decent, dignified, and
known to the entire city,--the American representative had lived
wherever circumstances compelled him:--sometimes on the
ground-floor and sometimes in a sky-parlor, with the natural
result that Russians could hardly regard the American Legation as
on the same footing with that of other countries.

As I write, word comes that the present ambassador has been
unable to find suitable quarters save at a rent higher than his
entire salary; that the proprietors have combined, and agreed to
stand by each other in holding their apartments at an enormous
figure, their understanding being that Americans are rich and can
be made to pay any price demanded. Nothing can be more
short-sighted than the policy of our government in this respect,
and I shall touch upon it again.

The diplomatic questions between the United States and Russia
were many and troublesome; for, in addition to that regarding the
Behring Sea fisheries, there were required additional
interpretations of the Buchanan treaty as to the rights of
Americans to hold real estate and to do business in Russia;
arrangements for the participation of Russians in the Chicago
Exposition; the protection of various American citizens of
Russian birth, and especially of Israelites who had returned to
Russia; care for the great American life-insurance interests in
the empire; the adjustment of questions arising out of Russian
religious relations with Alaska and the islands of the Northern
Pacific; and last, but not least, the completion of the
extradition treaty between the two nations by the incorporation
of safeguards which would prevent its use against purely
political offenders.

Especial attention to Israelite cases was also required. Some of
these excited my deep sympathy; and, having made a very careful
study of the subject, I wrote to Secretary Gresham a despatch
upon it in obedience to his special request. It was the longest
despatch I have ever written; and, in my apology to the secretary
for its length I stated that it was prepared with no expectation
that he would find time to read it, but with the idea that it
might be of use at the State Department for reference. In due
time I received a very kind answer stating that he had read every
word of it, and thanked me most heartily for--it. The whole
subject is exceedingly difficult; but it is clear that Russia has
made, and is making, a fearful mistake in her way of dealing with
it. There are more Israelites in Russia than in all the remainder
of the world; and they are crowded together, under most
exasperating regulations, in a narrow district just inside her
western frontier, mainly extending through what was formerly
Poland, with the result that fanaticism--Christian on one side
and Jewish on the other--has developed enormously. The Talmudic
rabbis are there at their worst; and the consequences are evil,
not only for Russia, but for our own country. The immigration
which comes to us from these regions is among the very worst that
we receive from any part of the world. It is, in fact, an
immigration of the unfittest; and, although noble efforts have
been made by patriotic Israelites in the United States to meet
the difficulty, the results have been far from satisfactory.

There were, of course, the usual adventurous Americans in
political difficulties, enterprising Americans in business
difficulties, and pretended Americans attempting to secure
immunity under the Stars and Stripes. The same ingenious efforts
to prostitute American citizenship which I had seen during my
former stay in Germany were just as constant in Russia. It was
the same old story. Emigrants from the Russian Empire, most of
them extremely undesirable, had gone to the United States; stayed
just long enough to secure naturalization,--had, indeed, in some
cases secured it fraudulently before they had stayed the full
time; and then, having returned to Russia, were trying to
exercise the rights and evade the duties of both countries.

Many of these cases were exceedingly vexatious; and so, indeed,
were some which were better founded. The great difficulty of a
representative of the United States in Russia is, first, that the
law of the empire is so complicated that,--to use the words of
King James regarding Bacon's "Novum Organum,"--"Like the Peace of
God, it passeth all understanding." It is made up of codes in
part obsolete or obsolescent; ukases and counter-ukases; imperial
directions and counter-directions; ministerial orders and
counter-orders; police regulations and counter-regulations; with
no end of suspensions, modifications, and exceptions.

The second difficulty is the fact that the Buchanan treaty of
1832, which guaranteed, apparently, everything desirable to
American citizens sojourning in the empire, has been gradually
construed away until its tattered remnants are practically
worthless. As the world has discovered, Russia's strong point is
not adherence to her treaty promises.

In this respect there is a great difference between Russia and
Germany. With the latter we have made careful treaties, the laws
are well known, and the American representative feels solid
ground beneath his feet; but in Russia there is practically
nothing of the kind, and the representative must rely on the main
principles of international law, common sense, and his own powers
of persuasion.

A peculiar duty during my last stay in St. Petersburg was to
watch the approach of cholera, especially on the Persian
frontier. Admirable precautions had been taken for securing
telegraphic information; and every day I received notices from
the Foreign Office as a result, which I communicated to
Washington. For ages Russia had relied on fetishes of various
kinds to preserve her from great epidemics; but at last her
leading officials had come to realize the necessity of applying
modern science to the problem, and they did this well. In the
city "sanitary columns" were established, made up of small squads
of officials representing the medical and engineering professions
and the police; these visited every nook and corner of the town,
and, having extraordinary powers for the emergency, compelled
even the most dirty people to keep their premises clean.
Excellent hospitals and laboratories were established, and of
these I learned much from a former Cornell student who held an
important position in one of them. Coming to town three or four
times a week from my summer cottage in Finland, I was struck by
the precautions on the Finnish and other railways: notices of
what was to be done to prevent cholera and to meet it were
posted, in six different languages; disinfectants were made
easily accessible; the seats and hangings in the railway-cars
were covered with leather cloth frequently washed with
disinfectants; and to the main trains a hospital-car was
attached, while a temporary hospital, well equipped, was
established at each main station. In spite of this, the number of
cholera patients at St. Petersburg in the middle of July rose to
a very high figure, and the number of deaths each day from
cholera was about one hundred.

Of these victims the most eminent was Tschaikovsky, the composer,
a man of genius and a most charming character, to whom Mr. Andrew
Carnegie had introduced me at New York. One evening at a
dinner-party he poured out a goblet of water from a decanter on
the table, drank it down, and next day was dead from Asiatic
cholera. But, with this exception, the patients were, so far as I
learned, almost entirely from the peasant class. Although boiled
water was supplied for drinking purposes, and some
public-spirited individuals went so far as to set out samovars
and the means of supplying hot tea to peasant workmen, the answer
of one of the muzhiks, when told that he ought to drink boiled
water, indicated the peasant view: "If God had wished us to drink
hot water, he would have heated the Neva."



CHAPTER XXXVI

MY RECOLLECTIONS OF POBEDONOSTZEFF--1892-1894

On arriving at St. Petersburg in 1892 to take charge of the
American legation, there was one Russian whom I more desired to
meet than any other--Constantine Pobedonostzeff. For some years
various English and American reviews had been charging him with
bigotry, cruelty, hypocrisy, and, indeed, with nearly every
hateful form of political crime; but the fact remained that under
Alexander III he was the most influential personage in the
empire, and that, though bearing the title of "procurator-general
of the Most Holy Synod," he was evidently no less powerful in
civil than in ecclesiastical affairs.

As to his history, it was understood to be as follows: When the
Grand Duke Nicholas, the eldest son of Alexander II,--a young man
of gentle characteristics, greatly resembling his father,--died
upon the Riviera, the next heir to the throne was his brother
Alexander, a stalwart, taciturn guardsman, respected by all who
knew him for honesty and directness, but who, having never looked
forward to the throne, had been brought up simply as a soldier,
with few of the gifts and graces traditional among the heirs of
the Russian monarchy since the days of Catherine.

Therefore it was that it became necessary to extemporize for this
soldier a training which should fit him for the duties of the
position so unexpectedly opened to him; and the man chosen as his
tutor was a professor at Moscow, distinguished as a jurist and
theologian,--a man of remarkable force of character, and devoted
to Russian ideas as distinguished from those of Western Europe:
Constantine Pobedonostzeff.

During the dark and stormy days toward the end of his career,
Alexander II had called in as his main adviser General
Loris-Melikoff, a man of Armenian descent, in whom was mingled
with the shrewd characteristics of his race a sincere desire to
give to Russia a policy and development in accordance with modern
ideas.

The result the world knows well. The Emperor, having taken the
advice of this and other councilors,--deeply patriotic men like
Miloutine, Samarine, and Tcherkassky,--had freed the serfs within
his empire (twenty millions in all); had sanctioned a vast scheme
by which they were to arrive at the possession of landed
property; had established local self-government in the various
provinces of his empire; had improved the courts of law; had
introduced Western ideas into legal procedure; had greatly
mitigated the severities formerly exercised toward the Jews; and
had made all ready to promulgate a constitution on his
approaching birthday.

But this did not satisfy the nihilistic sect. What more they
wanted it is hard to say. It is more than doubtful whether Russia
even then had arrived at a stage of civilization when the
institutions which Alexander II had already conceded could be
adopted with profit; but the leaders of the anarchic movement,
with their vague longings for fruit on the day the tree was
planted, decreed the Emperor's death--the assassination of the
greatest benefactor that Russia has ever known, one of the
greatest that humanity has known. It was, perhaps, the most
fearful crime ever committed against liberty and freedom; for it
blasted the hopes and aspirations of over a hundred millions of
people, and doubtless for many generations.

On this the sturdy young guardsman became the Emperor Alexander
III. It is related by men conversant with Russian affairs that,
at the first meeting of the imperial councilors, Loris-Melikoff,
believing that the young sovereign would be led by filial
reverence to continue the liberal policy to which the father had
devoted his life, made a speech taking this for granted, and that
the majority of those present, including the Emperor, seemed in
accord with him; when suddenly there arose a tall, gaunt,
scholarly man, who at first very simply, but finally very
eloquently, presented a different view. According to the
chroniclers of the period, Pobedonostzeff told the Emperor that
all so-called liberal measures, including the constitution, were
a delusion; that, though such things might be suited to Western
Europe, they were not suited to Russia; that the constitution of
that empire had been, from time immemorial, the will of the
autocrat, directed by his own sense of responsibility to the
Almighty; that no other constitution was possible in Russia; that
this alone was fitted to the traditions, the laws, the ideas of
the hundred and twenty millions of various races under the
Russian scepter; that in other parts of the world constitutional
liberty, so called, had already shown itself an absurdity; that
socialism, anarchism, and nihilism, with their plots and bombs,
were appearing in all quarters; that murder was plotted against
rulers of nations everywhere, the best of presidents having been
assassinated in the very country where free institutions were
supposed to have taken the most complete hold; that the principle
of authority in human government was to be saved; and that this
principle existed as an effective force only in Russia.

This speech is said to have carried all before it. As its
immediate result came the retirement of Loris-Melikoff, followed
by his death not long afterward; the entrance of Pobedonostzeff
among the most cherished councilors of the Emperor; the
suppression of the constitution; the discouragement of every
liberal tendency; and that fanatical reaction which has been in
full force ever since.

This was the man whom I especially desired to see and to
understand; and therefore it was that I was very glad to receive
from the State Department instructions to consult with him
regarding some rather delicate matters needing adjustment between
the Greek Church and our authorities in Alaska, and also in
relation to the representation of Russia at the Chicago
Exposition.

I found him, as one of the great ministers of the crown, residing
in a ministerial palace, but still retaining, in large measure,
his old quality of professor. About him was a beautiful library,
with every evidence of a love for art and literature. I had gone
into his presence with many feelings of doubt. Against no one in
Russia had charges so bitter been made in my hearing: it was
universally insisted that he was responsible for the persecution
of the Roman Catholics in Poland, of the Lutherans in the Baltic
provinces and in Finland, of the Stundists in Central Russia, and
of the dissenting sects everywhere. He had been spoken of in the
English reviews as the "Torquemada of the nineteenth century,"
and this epithet seemed to be generally accepted as fitting.

I found him a scholarly, kindly man, ready to discuss the
business which I brought before him, and showing a wide interest
in public affairs. There were few, if any, doctrines, either
political or theological, which we held in common, but he seemed
inclined to meet the wishes of our government as fully and fairly
as he could; and thus was begun one of the most interesting
acquaintances I have ever made.

His usual time of receiving his friends was on Sunday evening
between nine and twelve; and very many such evenings I passed in
his study, discussing with him, over glasses of fragrant Russian
tea, every sort of question with the utmost freedom.

I soon found that his reasons for that course of action to which
the world so generally objects are not so superficial as they are
usually thought. The repressive policy which he has so earnestly
adopted is based not merely upon his views as a theologian, but
upon his convictions as a statesman. While, as a Russo-Greek
churchman, he regards the established church of the empire as the
form of Christianity most primitive and pure; and while he sees
in its ritual, in its art, and in all the characteristics of its
worship the nearest approach to his ideals, he looks at it also
from the point of view of a statesman--as the greatest cementing
power of the vast empire through which it is spread.

This being the case, he naturally opposes all other religious
bodies in Russia as not merely inflicting injury upon
Christianity, but as tending to the political disintegration of
the empire. Never, in any of our conversations, did I hear him
speak a harsh word of any other church or of any religious ideas
opposed to his own; but it was clear that he regarded Protestants
and dissident sects generally as but agents in the progress of
disintegration which, in Western Europe, seemed approaching a
crisis, and that he considered the Roman Catholic Church in
Poland as practically a political machine managed by a hierarchy
in deadly hostility to the Russian Empire and to Russian
influence everywhere.

In discussing his own church, he never hesitated to speak plainly
of its evident shortcomings. Unquestionably, one of the wishes
nearest his heart is to reform the abuses which have grown up
among its clergy, especially in their personal habits. Here, too,
is a reason for any repressive policy which he may have exercised
against other religious bodies. Everything that detracts from the
established Russo-Greek Church detracts from the revenues of its
clergy, and, as these are pitifully small, aids to keep the
priests and their families in the low condition from which he is
so earnestly endeavoring to raise them. As regards the severe
policy inaugurated by Alexander III against the Jews of the
empire, which Pobedonostzeff, more than any other man, is
supposed to have inspired, he seemed to have no harsh feelings
against Israelites as such; but his conduct seemed based upon a
theory which, in various conversations, he presented with much
force: namely, that Russia, having within its borders more Jews
than exist in all the world besides, and having suffered greatly
from these as from an organization really incapable of
assimilation with the body politic, must pursue a repressive
policy toward them and isolate them in order to protect its rural
population.

While he was very civil in his expressions regarding the United
States, he clearly considered all Western civilization a failure.
He seemed to anticipate, before long, a collapse in the systems
and institutions of Western Europe. To him socialism and
anarchism, with all they imply, were but symptoms of a
wide-spread political and social disease--indications of an
approaching catastrophe destined to end a civilization which,
having rejected orthodoxy, had cast aside authority, given the
force of law to the whimsies of illiterate majorities, and
accepted, as the voice of God, the voice of unthinking mobs,
blind to their own interests and utterly incapable of working out
their own good. It was evident that he regarded Russia as
representing among the nations the idea of Heaven-given and
church-anointed authority, as the empire destined to save the
principle of divine right and the rule of the fittest.

Revolutionary efforts in Russia he discussed calmly. Referring to
Loris-Melikoff, the representative of the principles most
strongly opposed to his own, no word of censure escaped him. The
only evidence of deep feeling on this subject he ever showed in
my presence was when he referred to the writings of a well-known
Russian refugee in London, and said, "He is a murderer."

As to public instruction, he evidently held to the idea so
thoroughly carried out in Russia: namely, that the upper class,
which is to conduct the business of the state, should be highly
educated, but that the mass of the people need no education
beyond what will keep them contented in the humble station to
which it has pleased God to call them. A very curious example of
his conservatism I noted in his remarks regarding the droshkies
of St. Petersburg. The droshky-drivers are Russian peasants,
simple and, as a rule, pious; rarely failing to make the sign of
the cross on passing a church or shrine, or at any other moment
which seems to them solemn. They are possibly picturesque, but
certainly dirty, in their clothing and in all their surroundings.
A conveyance more wretched than the ordinary street-droshky of a
Russian city could hardly be conceived, and measures had been
proposed for improving this system; but he could see no use in
them. The existing system was thoroughly Russian, and that was
enough. It appealed to his conservatism. The droshky-drivers,
with their Russian caps, their long hair and beards, their
picturesque caftans, and their deferential demeanor, satisfied
his esthetic sense.

What seemed to me a clash between his orthodox conservatism on
one side, and his Russian pride on the other, I discovered on my
return from a visit to Moscow, in which I had sundry walks and
talks with Tolstoi. On my alluding to this, he showed some
interest. It was clear that he was separated by a whole orb of
thought from the great novelist, yet it was none the less evident
that he took pride in him. He naturally considered Tolstoi as
hopelessly wrong in all his fundamental ideas, and yet was
himself too much of a man of letters not to recognize in his
brilliant countryman one of the glories of Russia.

But the most curious--indeed, the most amazing--revelation of the
man I found in his love for American literature. He is a wide
reader; and, in the whole breadth of his reading, American
authors were evidently among those he preferred. Of these his
favorites were Hawthorne, Lowell, and, above all, Emerson.
Curious, indeed, was it to learn that this "arch-persecutor,"
this "Torquemada of the nineteenth century," this man whose hand
is especially heavy upon Catholics and Protestants and dissenters
throughout the empire, whose name is spoken with abhorrence by
millions within the empire and without it, still reads, as his
favorite author, the philosopher of Concord. He told me that the
first book which he ever translated into Russian was Thomas a
Kempis's "Imitation of Christ"; and of that he gave me the Latin
original from which he made his translation, with a copy of the
translation itself. But he also told me that the next book he
translated was a volume of Emerson's "Essays," and he added that
for years there had always lain open upon his study table a
volume of Emerson's writings.

There is, thus clearly, a relation of his mind to the literature
of the Western world very foreign to his feelings regarding
Western religious ideas. This can be accounted for perhaps by his
own character as a man of letters. That he has a distinct
literary gift is certain. I have in my possession sundry articles
of his, and especially a poem in manuscript, which show real
poetic feeling and a marked power of expression. It is a curious
fact that, though so addicted to English and American literature,
he utterly refuses to converse in our language. His medium of
communication with foreigners is always French. On my asking him
why he would not use our language in conversation, he answered
that he had learned it from books, and that his pronunciation of
it would expose him to ridicule.

In various circles in St. Petersburg I heard him spoken of as a
hypocrite, but a simple sense of justice compels me to declare
this accusation unjust. He indeed retires into a convent for a
portion of every year to join the monks in their austerities; but
this practice is, I believe, the outgrowth of a deep religious
feeling. On returning from one of these visits, he brought to my
wife a large Easter egg of lacquered work, exquisitely
illuminated. I have examined, in various parts of Europe,
beautiful specimens of the best periods of mediaeval art; but in
no one of them have I found anything in the way of illumination
more perfect than this which he brought from his monkish
brethren. In nothing did he seem to unbend more than in his
unfeigned love for religious art as it exists in Russia. He
discussed with me one evening sundry photographs of the new
religious paintings in the cathedral of Kieff in a spirit which
revealed this feeling for religious art as one of the deepest
characteristics of his nature.

He was evidently equally sensitive to the beauties of religious
literature. Giving me various books containing the services of
the Orthodox Church, he dwelt upon the beauty of the Slavonic
version of the Psalms and upon the church hymnology.

The same esthetic side of his nature was evident at various great
church ceremonies. It has happened to me to see Pius IX celebrate
mass, both at the high altar of St. Peter's and in the Sistine
Chapel, and to witness the ceremonies of Holy Week and of Easter
at the Roman basilicas, and at the time it was hard to conceive
anything of the kind more impressive; but I have never seen any
church functions, on the whole, more imposing than the funeral
service of the Emperor Nicholas during my first visit to Russia,
and various imperial weddings, funerals, name-days, and the like,
during my second visit. On such occasions Pobedonostzeff
frequently came over from his position among the ministers of the
crown to explain to us the significance of this or that feature
in the ritual of music. It was plain that these things touched
what was deepest in him; it must be confessed that his attachment
to the church is sincere.

Nor were these impressions made upon me alone. It fell to my lot
to present to him one of the most eminent journalists our country
has produced--Charles A. Dana, a man who could discuss on even
terms with any European statesman all the leading modern
questions. Dana had been brought into close contact with many
great men; but it was plain to see--what he afterward
acknowledged to me--that he was very deeply impressed by this
eminent Russian. The talk of two such men threw new light upon
the characteristics of Pobedonostzeff, and strengthened my
impression of his intellectual sincerity.

In regard to the relation of the Russo-Greek Church to other
churches I spoke to him at various times, and found in him no
personal feeling of dislike to them. The nearest approach to such
a feeling appeared, greatly to my surprise, in sundry references
to the Greek Church as it exists in Greece. In these he showed a
spirit much like that which used to be common among High-church
Episcopalians in speaking of Low-church "Evangelicals." Mindful
of the earnest efforts made by the Anglican communion to come
into closer relations with the Russian branch of the Eastern
Church, I at various times broached that subject, and the
glimpses I obtained of his feeling regarding it surprised me.
Previously to these interviews I had supposed that the main
difficulty in the way to friendly relations between these two
branches of the church universal had its origin in the "filioque"
clause of the Nicene Creed. As is well known, the Eastern Church
adheres to that creed in its original form,--the form in which
the Holy Ghost is represented as "proceeding from the
Father,"--whereas the Western Church adopts the additional words,
"and from the Son." That the Russo-Greek Church is very tenacious
of its position in this respect, and considers the position of
the Western Church--Catholic and Protestant--as savoring of
blasphemy, is well known; and there was a curious evidence of
this during my second stay in Russia. Twice during that time I
heard the "Missa Solennis" of Beethoven. It was first given by a
splendid choir in the great hall of the University of
Helsingfors. That being in Finland, which is mainly Lutheran, the
Creed was sung in its Western form. Naturally, on going to hear
it given by a great choir at St. Petersburg, I was curious to
know how this famous clause would be dealt with. In various parts
of the audience were priests of the Russo-Greek faith, yet there
were very many Lutherans and Calvinists, and I watched with some
interest the approach of the passage containing the disputed
words; but when we reached this it was wholly omitted. Any
allusion to the "procession" was evidently forbidden. Great,
therefore, was my surprise when, on my asking Pobedonostzeff,[5]
as the representative of the Emperor in the Synod of the
empire,--the highest assemblage in the church, and he the most
influential man in it, really controlling archbishops and bishops
throughout the empire,--whether the "filioque" clause is an
insurmountable obstacle to union, he replied, "Not at all; that
is simply a question of dialectics. But with whom are we to
unite? Shall it be with the High-churchmen, the Broad-churchmen,
or the Low-churchmen? These are three different bodies of men
with distinctly different ideas of church order; indeed, with
distinctly different creeds. Which of these is the Orthodox
Church to regard as the representative of the Anglican
communion?" I endeavored to show him that the union, if it took
place at all, must be based on ideas and beliefs that underlie
all these distinctions; but he still returned to his original
proposition, which was that union is impossible until a more
distinct basis than any now attainable can be arrived at.


[5] I find, in a letter from Pobedonostzeff, that he spells his
name as here printed.


I suggested to him a visit to Great Britain and his making the
acquaintance of leading Englishmen; but to this he answered that
at his time of life he had no leisure for such a recreation; that
his duties absolutely forbade it.

In regard to relations with the Russo-Greek Church on our own
continent, he seemed to speak with great pleasure of the
treatment that sundry Russian bishops had received among us. He
read me letters from a member of the Russo-Greek hierarchy, full
of the kindliest expressions toward Americans, and especially
acknowledging their friendly reception of him and of his
ministrations. Both the archbishop in his letter, and
Pobedonostzeff in his talk, were very much amused over the fact
that the Americans, after extending various other courtesies to
the archbishop, offered him cigars.

He discussed the possibility of introducing the "Holy Orthodox
Church" into the United States, but always disclaimed all zeal in
religious propagandism, saying that the church authorities had
quite enough work to do in extending and fortifying the church
throughout the Russian Empire. He said that the pagan tribes of
the imperial dominions in Asia seemed more inclined to
Mohammedanism than to Christianity, and gave as the probable
reason the fact that the former faith is much the simpler of the
two. He was evidently unable to grasp the idea of the Congress of
Religions at the Chicago Exposition, and seemed inclined to take
a mildly humorous view of it as one of the droll inventions of
the time.

He appeared to hold our nation as a problem apart, and was,
perhaps, too civil in his conversations with me to include it in
the same condemnation with the nations of Western Europe which
had, in his opinion, gone hopelessly wrong. He also seemed drawn
to us by his admiration for Emerson, Hawthorne, and Lowell. When
Professor Norton's edition of Lowell's "Letters" came out, I at
once took it to him. It evidently gave him great
pleasure--perhaps because it revealed to him a very different
civilization, life, and personality from anything to which he had
been accustomed. Still, America seemed to be to him a sort of
dreamland. He constantly returned to Russian affairs as to the
great realities of the world. Discussing, as we often did, the
condition and future of the wild tribes and nations within the
Asiatic limits of the empire, he betrayed no desire either for
crusades or for intrigues to convert them; he simply spoke of the
legitimate influence of the church in civilizing them.

I recall a brilliant but denunciatory article, published in one
of the English reviews some time since by a well-known nihilist,
which contained, in the midst of various charges against the
Russian statesman, a description of his smile, which was
characterized as forbidding, and even ghastly. I watched for this
smile with much interest, but it never came. A smile upon his
face I have often seen; but it was a kindly smile, with no trace
of anything ghastly or cruel in it.

He seemed to take pleasure in the society of his old professorial
friends, and one of them he once brought to my table. This was a
professor of history, deeply conversant with the affairs of the
empire; and we discussed the character and career of Catherine
II. The two men together brought out a mass of curious
information, throwing a strange light into transactions which
only the most recent historians are beginning to understand,
among these the assassination of Czar Peter III, Catherine's
husband. On one occasion when Pobedonostzeff was visiting me I
tested his knowledge in regard to a matter of special interest,
and obtained a new side-light upon his theory of the universe.
There is at present on the island of Cronstadt, at the mouth of
the Neva, a Russo-Greek priest, Father Ivan, who enjoys
throughout the empire a vast reputation as a saintly worker of
miracles. This priest has a very spiritual and kindly face; is
known to receive vast sums for the poor, which he distributes
among them while he himself remains in poverty; and is supposed
not merely by members of the Russo-Greek Church, but by those of
other religious bodies, to work frequent miracles of healing. I
was assured by persons of the highest character--and those not
only Russo-Greek churchmen, but Roman Catholics and
Anglicans--that there could be no doubt as to the reality of
these miracles, and various examples were given me. So great is
Father Ivan's reputation in this respect that he is in constant
demand in all parts of the empire, and was even summoned to
Livadia during the last illness of the late Emperor. Whenever he
appears in public great crowds surround him, seeking to touch the
hem of his garment. His picture is to be seen with the portraits
of the saints in vast numbers of Russian homes, from the palaces
of the highest nobles to the cottages of the humblest peasants.

It happened to me on one occasion to have an experience which I
have related elsewhere, but which is repeated here as throwing
light on the ideas of the Russian statesman.

On my arrival in St. Petersburg my attention was at once aroused
by the portraits of Father Ivan. They ranged from photographs
absolutely true to life, which revealed a plain, shrewd, kindly
face, to those which were idealized until they bore a near
resemblance to the conventional representations of Jesus of
Nazareth.

One day, in one of the most brilliant reception-rooms of the
Northern capital, the subject of Father Ivan's miracles having
been introduced, a gentleman in very high social position, and
entirely trustworthy, spoke as follows: "There is something very
surprising about these miracles. I am slow to believe in them;
but there is one of them which is overwhelming and absolutely
true. The late Metropolitan of St. Petersburg, Archbishop
Isidore, loved quiet, and was very averse to anything which could
possibly cause scandal. Hearing of the wonders wrought by Father
Ivan, he summoned him to his presence and sternly commanded him
to abstain from all the things which had given rise to these
reported miracles, as sure to create scandal, and with this
injunction dismissed him. Hardly had the priest left the room
when the archbishop was struck with blindness, and he remained in
this condition until the priest returned and restored his sight
by intercessory prayer." When I asked the gentleman giving this
account if he directly knew these facts, he replied that he was,
of course, not present when the miracle was wrought; but that he
had the facts immediately from persons who knew all the parties
concerned, as well as all the circumstances of the case; and,
indeed, that these circumstances were matter of general
knowledge.

Sometime afterward, being at an afternoon reception in one of the
greater embassies, I brought up the same subject, when an eminent
general spoke as follows: "I am not inclined to believe in
miracles,--in fact, am rather skeptical; but the proofs of those
wrought by Father Ivan are overwhelming." He then went on to say
that the late metropolitan archbishop was a man who loved quiet
and disliked scandal; that on this account he had summoned Father
Ivan to his palace, and ordered him to put an end to the conduct
which had caused the reports concerning his miraculous powers;
and then, with a wave of his arm, had dismissed him. The priest
left the room, and from that moment the archbishop's arm was
paralyzed; and it remained so until the penitent prelate summoned
the priest again, by whose prayers the arm was restored to its
former usefulness. There was present at the time another person
besides myself who had heard the previous statement as to the
blindness of the archbishop; and, on our both asking the general
if he was sure that the archbishop's arm was paralyzed as stated,
he declared that he could not doubt it, as he had the account
directly from persons entirely trustworthy who were cognizant of
all the facts.

Sometime later, meeting Pobedonostzeff, I asked him which of
these stories was correct. He answered immediately, "Neither: in
the discharge of my duties I saw the Archbishop Isidore
constantly down to the last hours of his life, and no such event
ever occurred. He was never paralyzed and never blind." But the
great statesman and churchman then went on to say that, although
this story was untrue, there were a multitude of others quite as
remarkable in which he believed; and he gave me a number of
legends showing that Father Ivan possessed supernatural knowledge
and miraculous powers. These he unfolded to me with much detail,
and with such an accent of conviction that we seemed surrounded
by a mediaeval atmosphere in which signs and wonders were the
most natural things in the world.

As to his action on politics since my leaving Russia, the power
which he exercised over Alexander III has evidently been
continued during the reign of the young Nicholas II. In spite of
his eighty years, he seems to be, to-day, the leader of the
reactionary party.

During the early weeks of The Hague Conference, Count Munster, in
his frequent diatribes against its whole purpose, and especially
against arbitration, was wont to insist that the whole thing was
a scheme prepared by Pobedonostzeff to embarrass Germany; that,
as Russia was always wretchedly unready with her army, The Hague
Conference was simply a trick for gaining time against her rivals
who kept up better military preparations. There may have been
truth in part of this assertion; but the motive of the great
Russian statesman in favoring the conference was probably not so
much to gain time for the army as to gain money for the church.
With his intense desire to increase the stipends of the Russian
orthodox clergy, and thus to raise them somewhat above their
present low condition, he must have groaned over the enormous
sums spent by his government in the frequent changes in almost
every item of expenditure for its vast army--changes made in
times of profound peace, simply to show that Russia was keeping
her army abreast of those of her sister nations. Hence came the
expressed Russian desire to "keep people from inventing things."
It has always seemed to me that, while the idea underlying the
Peace Conference came originally from Jean de Bloch, there must
have been powerful aid from Pobedonostzeff. So much of good--and,
indeed, of great good--we may attribute to him as highly
probable, if not certain.

But, on the other hand, there would seem to be equal reason for
attributing to him, in these latter days, a fearful mass of evil.
To say nothing of the policy of Russia in Poland and elsewhere,
her dealings with Finland thus far form one of the blackest spots
on the history of the empire. Whether he originated this iniquity
or not is uncertain; but when, in 1892, I first saw the new
Russian cathedral rising on the heights above Helsingfors,--a
structure vastly more imposing than any warranted by the small
number of the "orthodox" in Finland,--with its architecture of
the old Muscovite type, symbolical of fetishism, I could not but
recognize his hand in it. It seemed clear to me that here was the
beginning of religious aggression on the Lutheran Finlanders,
which must logically be followed by political and military
aggression; and, in view of his agency in this as in everything
reactionary, I did not wonder at the attempt to assassinate him
not long afterward.

During my recent stay in Germany he visited me at the Berlin
Embassy. He was, as of old, apparently gentle, kindly, interested
in literature, not interested to any great extent in current
Western politics. This gentle, kindly manner of his brought back
forcibly to my mind a remark of one of the most cultivated women
I met in Russia, a princess of ancient lineage, who ardently
desired reasonable reforms, and who, when I mentioned to her a
report that Pobedonostzeff was weary of political life, and was
about to retire from office in order to devote himself to
literary pursuits, said: "Don't, I beg of you, tell me that; for
I have always noticed that whenever such a report is circulated,
it is followed by some new scheme of his, even more infernal than
those preceding it."

So much for the man who, during the present reign, seems one of
the main agents in holding Russian policy on the road to ruin. He
is indeed a study. The descriptive epithet which clings to
him--"the Torquemada of the nineteenth century"--he once
discussed with me in no unkindly spirit; indeed, in as gentle a
spirit as can well be conceived. His life furnishes a most
interesting study in churchmanship, in statesmanship, and in
human nature, and shows how some of the men most severely
condemned by modern historians--great persecutors, inquisitors,
and the like--may have based their actions on theories the world
has little understood, and may have had as little conscious
ferocity as their more tolerant neighbors.



CHAPTER XXXVII

WALKS AND TALES WITH TOLSTOI--MARCH, 1894

Revisiting Moscow after an absence of thirty-five years, the most
surprising thing to me was that there had been so little change.
With the exception of the new gallery of Russian art, and the
bazaar opposite the sacred gate of the Kremlin, things seemed as
I had left them just after the accession of Alexander II. There
were the same unkempt streets; the same peasantry clad in
sheepskins; the same troops of beggars, sturdy and dirty; the
same squalid crowds crossing themselves before the images at the
street corners; the same throngs of worshipers knocking their
heads against the pavements of churches; and above all loomed,
now as then, the tower of Ivan and the domes of St. Basil,
gloomy, gaudy, and barbaric. Only one change had taken place
which interested me: for the first time in the history of Russia,
a man of world-wide fame in literature and thought was abiding
there--Count Leo Tolstoi.

On the evening of my arrival I went with my secretary to his
weekly reception. As we entered his house on the outskirts of the
city, two servants in evening dress came forward, removed our fur
coats, and opened the doors into the reception-room of the
master. Then came a surprise. His living-room seemed the cabin of
a Russian peasant. It was wainscoted almost rudely and furnished
very simply; and there approached us a tall, gaunt Russian,
unmistakably born to command, yet clad as a peasant, his hair
thrown back over his ears on either side, his flowing blouse kept
together by a leathern girdle, his high jack-boots completing the
costume. This was Tolstoi.

Nothing could be more kindly than his greeting. While his dress
was that of a peasant, his bearing was the very opposite; for,
instead of the depressed, demure, hangdog expression of the
average muzhik, his manner, though cordial, was dignified and
impressive. Having given us a hearty welcome, he made us
acquainted with various other guests. It was a singular
assemblage. There were foreigners in evening dress, Moscow
professors in any dress they liked, and a certain number of
youth, evidently disciples, who, though clearly not of the
peasant class, wore the peasant costume. I observed these with
interest but certainly as long as they were under the spell of
the master they communicated nothing worth preserving; they
seemed to show "the contortions of the sibyl without the
inspiration."

The professors were much more engaging. The University of Moscow
has in its teaching body several strong men, and some of these
were present. One of them, whose department was philosophy,
especially interested and encouraged me by assurances that the
movement of Russian philosophy is "back to Kant." In the strange
welter of whims and dreams which one finds in Russia, this was to
me an unexpected evidence of healthful thought.

Naturally, I soon asked to be presented to the lady of the house,
and the count escorted us through a series of rooms to a salon
furnished much like any handsome apartment in Paris or St.
Petersburg, where the countess, with other ladies, all in full
evening dress, received us cordially. This sudden transition from
the peasant cabin of the master to these sumptuous rooms of the
mistress was startling; it seemed like scene-shifting at a
theater.

After some friendly talk, all returned to the rooms of the master
of the house, where tea was served at a long table from the
bubbling brazen urn--the samovar; and though there were some
twenty or thirty guests, nothing could be more informal. All was
simple, kindly, and unrestrained.

My first question was upon the condition of the people. Our
American legation had corresponded with Count Tolstoi and his
family as to distributing a portion of the famine fund sent from
the United States, hence this subject naturally arose at the
outset. He said that the condition of the peasants was still very
bad; that they had very generally eaten their draught-animals,
burned portions of their buildings to keep life in their bodies,
and reduced themselves to hopeless want. On my suggesting that
the new commercial treaty with Germany might help matters, he
thought that it would have but little effect, since only a small
portion of the total product of Russian agriculture is consumed
abroad. This led him to speak of some Americans and Englishmen
who had visited the famine-stricken districts, and, while he
referred kindly to them all, he seemed especially attracted by
the Quaker John Bellows of Gloucester, England, the author of the
wonderful little French dictionary. This led him to say that he
sympathized with the Quakers in everything save their belief in
property; that in this they were utterly illogical; that property
presupposes force to protect it. I remarked that most American
Quakers knew nothing of such force; that none of them had ever
seen an American soldier, save during our Civil War, and that
probably not one in hundreds of them had ever seen a soldier at
all. He answered, "But you forget the policeman." He evidently
put policemen and soldiers in the same category--as using force
to protect property, and therefore to be alike abhorred.

I found that to his disbelief in any right of ownership literary
property formed no exception. He told me that, in his view, he
had no right to receive money for the permission to print a book.
To this I naturally answered that by carrying out this doctrine
he would simply lavish large sums upon publishers in every
country of Europe and America, many of them rich and some of them
piratical; and that in my opinion he would do a much better thing
by taking the full value of his copyrights and bestowing the
proceeds upon the peasantry starving about him. To which he
answered that it was a question of duty. To this I agreed, but
remarked that beneath this lay the question what this duty really
was. It was a pleasure to learn from another source that the
countess took a different view of it, and that she had in some
way secured the proceeds of his copyrights for their very large
and interesting family. Light was thus thrown on Tolstoi's
remark, made afterward, that women are not so self-sacrificing as
men; that a man would sometimes sacrifice his family for an idea,
but that a woman would not.

He then went on to express an interest in the Shakers, and
especially in Frederick Evans. He had evidently formed an idea of
them very unlike the reality; in fact, the Shaker his imagination
had developed was as different from a Lebanon Shaker as an eagle
from a duck, and his notion of their influence on American
society was comical.

He spoke at some length regarding religion in Russia, evidently
believing that its present dominant form is soon to pass away. I
asked him how then he could account for the fact that while in
other countries women are greatly in the majority at church
services, in every Russian church the majority are men; and that
during the thirty-five years since my last visit to Moscow this
tendency had apparently increased. He answered, "All this is on
the surface; there is much deeper thought below, and the great
want of Russia is liberty to utter it." He then gave some
examples to show this, among them the case of a gentleman and
lady in St. Petersburg, whose children had been taken from them
and given to Princess ----, their grandmother, because the latter
is of the Orthodox Church and the former are not. I answered that
I had seen the children; that their grandmother had told me that
their mother was a screaming atheist with nihilistic tendencies,
who had left her husband and was bringing up the children in a
scandalous way,--teaching them to abjure God and curse the Czar;
that their father had thought it his duty to give all his
property away and work as a laborer; that therefore she--the
grandmother--had secured an order from the Emperor empowering her
to take charge of the children; that I had seen the children at
their grandmother's house, and that they had seemed very happy.
Tolstoi insisted that this statement by the grandmother was
simply made to cover the fact that the children were taken from
the mother because her belief was not of the orthodox pattern. My
opinion is that Tolstoi was mistaken, at least as to the father;
and that the father had been led to give away his property and
work with his hands in obedience to the ideas so eloquently
advocated by Tolstoi himself. Unlike his master, this gentleman
appears not to have had the advantage of a wife who mitigated his
ideas.

Tolstoi also referred to the difficulties which translators had
found in securing publishers for his most recent book--"The
Kingdom of God." On my assuring him that American publishers of
high standing would certainly be glad to take it, he said that he
had supposed the ideas in it so contrary to opinions dominant in
America as to prevent its publication there.

Returning to the subject of religion in Russia, he referred to
some curious incongruities; as, for example, the portrait of
Socrates forming part of a religious picture in the Annunciation
Church at the Kremlin. He said that evidently some monk, who had
dipped into Plato, had thus placed Socrates among the precursors
of Christ. I cited the reason assigned by Melanchthon for
Christ's descent into hell--namely, the desire of the Redeemer to
make himself known to Socrates, Plato, and the best of the
ancient philosophers; and I compared this with Luther's idea, so
characteristic of him, that Christ descended into hell in order
to have a hand-to-hand grapple and wrestle with Satan. This led
Tolstoi to give me a Russian legend of the descent into hell,
which was that, when Christ arrived there, he found Satan forging
chains, but that, at the approach of the Saviour, the walls of
hell collapsed, and Satan found himself entangled in his own
chains, and remained so for a thousand years.

In regard to the Jews, he said that he sympathized with them, but
that the statements regarding the persecution of them were
somewhat exaggerated. Kennan's statements regarding the treatment
of prisoners in Siberia he thought overdrawn at times, but
substantially true. He expressed his surprise that certain
leading men in the empire, whom he named, could believe that
persecution and the forcible repression of thought would have any
permanent effect at the end of the nineteenth century.

He then dwelt upon sundry evil conditions in Russia, on which my
comment was that every country, of course, had its own grievous
shortcomings; and I cited, as to America, the proverb: "No one
knows so well where the shoe pinches as he who wears it." At this
he asked me about lynch law in the United States, and expressed
his horror of it. I showed him that it was the inevitable result
of a wretched laxity and sham humanity in the administration of
our criminal law, which had led great bodies of people, more
especially in the Southern and extreme Western parts of the
country, to revert to natural justice and take the law into their
own hands; and I cited Goldwin Smith's profound remark that "some
American lynchings are proofs not so much of lawlessness as of a
respect for law."

He asked me where, besides this, the shoe pinched in the United
States. I told him that it pinched in various places, but that
perhaps the worst pinch arises from the premature admission to
full political rights of men who have been so benumbed and
stunted intellectually and morally in other countries that their
exercise of political rights in America is frequently an injury,
not only to others, but to themselves. In proof of this I cited
the case of the crowds whom I had seen some years before huddled
together in New York tenement-houses, preyed upon by their
liquor-selling landlords, their families perishing of typhoid and
smallpox on account of the negligence and maladministration of
the local politicians, but who, as a rule, were almost if not
quite ready to mob and murder those of us who brought in a new
health board and a better order of things; showing him that for
years the very class of people who suffered most from the old,
vile state of things did their best by their votes to keep in
power the men who maintained it.

We then passed to the subject of the trans-Siberian Railway. In
this he seemed interested, but in a vague way which added nothing
to my knowledge.

Asking me regarding my former visit to Moscow, and learning that
it was during the Crimean War, he said, "At that time I was in
Sebastopol, and continued there as a soldier during the siege."

As to his relations with the imperial government at present, he
said that he had been recently elected to a learned society in
Moscow, but that the St. Petersburg government had interfered to
stop the election; and he added that every morning, when he
awoke, he wondered that he was not on his way to Siberia.

On my leaving him, both he and the countess invited me to meet
them next day at the Tretiakof Museum of Russian Pictures; and
accordingly, on the following afternoon, I met them at that
greatest of all galleries devoted purely to Russian art. They
were accompanied by several friends, among them a little knot of
disciples--young men clad in simple peasant costume like that
worn by the master. It was evident that he was an acknowledged
lion at the old Russian capital, for as he led me about to see
the pictures which he liked best, he was followed and stared at
by many.

Pointing out to me some modern religious pictures in Byzantine
style painted for the Cathedral of Kieff, he said, "They
represent an effort as futile as trying to persuade chickens to
reenter the egg-shells from which they have escaped." He next
showed me two religious pictures; the first representing the
meeting of Jesus and Pilate, when the latter asked, "What is
truth?" Pilate was depicted as a rotund, jocose, cynical man of
the world; Jesus, as a street preacher in sordid garments, with
unkempt hair flowing over his haggard face,--a peasant fanatic
brought in by the police. Tolstoi showed an especial interest in
this picture; it seemed to reveal to him the real secret of that
famous question and its answer; the question coming from the
mighty of the earth, and the answer from the poor and oppressed.

The other picture represented the Crucifixion. It was painted in
the most realistic manner possible; nothing was idealized; it was
even more vividly realistic than Gebhardt's picture of the Lord's
Supper, at Berlin; so that it at first repelled me, though it
afterward exercised a certain fascination. That Tolstoi was
deeply interested was clear. He stood for a time in silence, as
if musing upon all that the sacrifice on Calvary had brought to
the world. Other representations of similar scenes, in the
conventional style of the older masters, he had passed without a
glance; but this spectacle of the young Galilean peasant, with
unattractive features, sordid garb, poverty-stricken companions,
and repulsive surroundings, tortured to death for preaching the
"kingdom of God" to the poor and down-trodden, seemed to hold him
fast, and as he pointed out various features in the picture it
became even more clear to me that sympathy with the peasant
class, and a yearning to enter into their cares and sorrows, form
the real groundwork of his life.

He then took me to a small picture of Jesus and his disciples
leaving the upper room at Jerusalem after the Last Supper. This,
too, was painted in the most realistic manner. The disciples,
simple-minded fishermen, rude in features and dress, were
plodding homeward, while Christ himself gazed at the stars and
drew the attention of his nearest companions to some of the
brightest. Tolstoi expressed especial admiration for this
picture, saying that at times it affected him like beautiful
music,--like music which draws tears, one can hardly tell why. It
was more and more evident, as he lingered before this and other
pictures embodying similar ideas, that sympathy for those
struggling through poverty and want toward a better life is his
master passion.

Among the pictures, not to be classed as religious, before which
he thus lingered were those representing the arrest of a nihilist
and the return of an exile from Siberia. Both were well painted,
and both revealed the same characteristic--sympathy with the
poor, even with criminals.

Some of the more famous historical pictures in the collection he
thought exaggerated; especially those representing the fury of
the Grand Duchess Sophia in her monastery prison, and the remorse
of Ivan the Terrible after murdering his son.

To my surprise, he agreed with me, and even went beyond me, in
rating landscape infinitely below religious and historical
painting, saying that he cared for landscape-painting only as
accessory to pictures revealing human life.

Among genre pictures, we halted before one representing a peasant
family grouped about the mother, who, with a sacred picture laid
upon her breast, after the Russian manner, was dying of famine.
This also seemed deeply to impress him.

We stopped next before a picture of a lady of high birth brought
before the authorities in order to be sent, evidently against her
will, to a convent. I cited the similar story from Manzoni's
"Promessi Sposi"; but, to my surprise, he seemed to know little
of that most fascinating of historical romances. This led to a
discussion in which he said he had once liked Walter Scott, but
had not read anything of his for many years; and he seemed
interested in my statement that although always an especial
admirer of Scott, I had found it almost impossible to induce the
younger generation to read him.

Stopping before a picture of Peter the Great's fatal conference
with his son Alexis, in reply to my remark upon the marvel that a
prince of such genius as Peter should have appeared at Moscow in
the seventeenth century, he said that he did not admire Peter,
that he was too cruel,--administering torture and death at times
with his own hands.

We next halted before a picture representing the horrible
execution of the Strelitzes. I said that "such pictures prove
that the world does, after all, progress slowly, in spite of what
pessimists say, and that in order to refute pessimists one has
only to refer to the improvements in criminal law." To this he
agreed cordially, and declared the abolition of torture in
procedure and penalty to be one great gain, at any rate.

We spoke of the present condition of things in Europe, and I told
him that at St. Petersburg the opinion very general among the
more thoughtful members of the diplomatic corps was that war was
not imminent; that the Czar, having himself seen the cruelties of
war during the late struggle in the Balkans, had acquired an
invincible repugnance to it. He acquiesced in this, but said that
it seemed monstrous to him that the peace of the empire and of
Europe should depend upon so slender a thread as the will of any
one man.

Our next walk was taken across the river Moskwa, on the ice, to
and through the Kremlin, and as we walked the conversation fell
upon literature. As to French literature, he thought Maupassant
the man of greatest talent, by far, in recent days, but that he
was depraved and centered all his fiction in women. For Balzac,
Tolstoi evidently preserved admiration, but he cared little,
apparently, for Daudet, Zola, and their compeers.

As to American literature, he said that Tourgueneff had once told
him that there was nothing in it worth reading; nothing new or
original; that it was simply a copy of English literature. To
this I replied that such criticism seemed to me very shallow;
that American literature was, of course, largely a growth out of
the parent stock of English literature, and must mainly be judged
as such; that to ask in the highest American literature something
absolutely different from English literature in general was like
looking for oranges upon an apple-tree; that there had come new
varieties in this growth, many of them original, and some
beautiful; but that there was the same sap, the same life-current
running through it all; and I compared the treatment of woman in
all Anglo-Saxon literature, whether on one side of the Atlantic
or the other, from Chaucer to Mark Twain, with the treatment of
the same subject by French writers from Rabelais to Zola. To this
he answered that in his opinion the strength of American
literature arises from the inherent Anglo-Saxon religious
sentiment. He expressed a liking for Emerson, Hawthorne, and
Whittier, but he seemed to have read at random, not knowing at
all some of the best things. He spoke with admiration of Theodore
Parker's writings, and seemed interested in my reminiscences of
Parker and of his acquaintance with Russian affairs. He also
revered and admired the character and work of William Lloyd
Garrison. He had read Longfellow somewhat, but was evidently
uncertain regarding Lowell,--confusing him, apparently, with some
other author. Among contemporary writers he knew some of
Howells's novels and liked them, but said: "Literature in the
United States at present seems to be in the lowest trough of the
sea between high waves." He dwelt on the flippant tone of
American newspapers, and told me of an interviewer who came to
him in behalf of an American journal, and wanted simply to know
at what time he went to bed and rose, what he ate, and the like.
He thought that people who cared to read such trivialities must
be very feeble-minded, but he said that the European press is, on
the whole, just as futile. On my attempting to draw from him some
statement as to what part of American literature pleased him
most, he said that he had read some publications of the New York
and Brooklyn Society for Ethical Culture, and that he knew and
liked the writings of Felix Adler. I then asked who, in the whole
range of American literature, he thought the foremost. To this he
made an answer which amazed me, as it would have astonished my
countrymen. Indeed, did the eternal salvation of all our eighty
millions depend upon some one of them guessing the person he
named, we should all go to perdition together. That greatest of
American writers was--Adin Ballou! Evidently, some of the
philanthropic writings of that excellent Massachusetts country
clergyman and religious communist had pleased him, and hence came
the answer.

The next day he came over to my hotel and we went out for a
stroll. As we passed along the streets I noticed especially what
I had remarked during our previous walks, that Tolstoi had a
large quantity of small Russian coins in his pockets; that this
was evidently known to the swarms of beggars who infest the
Kremlin and the public places generally; and that he always gave
to them.

On my speaking of this, he said he thought that any one, when
asked for money, ought to give it. Arguing against this doctrine,
I said that in the United States there are virtually no beggars,
and I might have gone on to discuss the subject from the
politico-economical point of view, showing how such
indiscriminate almsgiving in perpetual driblets is sure to create
the absurd and immoral system which one sees throughout
Russia,--hordes of men and women who are able to take care of
themselves, and who ought to be far above beggary, cringing and
whining to the passers-by for alms; but I had come to know the
man well enough to feel sure that a politico-economical argument
would slide off him like water from a duck's back, so I attempted
to take him upon another side, and said: "In the United States
there are virtually no beggars, though my countrymen are, I
really believe, among the most charitable in the world." To this
last statement he assented, referring in a general way to our
shipments of provisions to aid the famine-stricken in Russia.
"But," I added, "it is not our custom to give to beggars save in
special emergencies." I then gave him an account of certain
American church organizations which had established piles of
fire-wood and therefore enabled any able-bodied tramp, by sawing
or cutting some of it, to earn a good breakfast, a good dinner,
and, if needed, a good bed, and showed him that Americans
considered beggary not only a great source of pauperism, but as
absolutely debasing to the beggar himself, in that it puts him in
the attitude of a suppliant for that which, if he works as he
ought, he can claim as his right; that to me the spectacle of
Count Tolstoi virtually posing as a superior being, while his
fellow-Russians came crouching and whining to him, was not at all
edifying. To this view of the case he listened very civilly.

Incidentally I expressed wonder that he had not traveled more. He
then spoke with some disapprobation of travel. He had lived
abroad for a time, he said, and in St. Petersburg a few years,
but the rest of his life had been spent mainly in Moscow and the
interior of Russia. The more we talked together, the more it
became clear that this last statement explained some of his main
defects. Of all distinguished men that I have ever met, Tolstoi
seems to me most in need of that enlargement of view and
healthful modification of opinion which come from meeting men and
comparing views with them in different lands and under different
conditions. This need is all the greater because in Russia there
is no opportunity to discuss really important questions. Among
the whole one hundred and twenty millions of people there is no
public body in which the discussion of large public questions is
allowed; the press affords no real opportunity for discussion;
indeed, it is more than doubtful whether such discussion would be
allowed to any effective extent even in private correspondence or
at one's own fireside.

I remember well that during my former stay in St. Petersburg,
people who could talk English at their tables generally did so in
order that they might not betray themselves to any spy who might
happen to be among their servants.

Still worse, no one, unless a member of the diplomatic corps or
specially privileged, is allowed to read such books or newspapers
as he chooses, so that even this access to the thoughts of others
is denied to the very men who most need it.

Like so many other men of genius in Russia, then,--and Russia is
fertile in such,--Tolstoi has had little opportunity to take part
in any real discussion of leading topics; and the result is that
his opinions have been developed without modification by any
rational interchange of thought with other men. Under such
circumstances any man, no matter how noble or gifted, having
given birth to striking ideas, coddles and pets them until they
become the full-grown, spoiled children of his brain. He can at
last see neither spot nor blemish in them, and comes virtually to
believe himself infallible. This characteristic I found in
several other Russians of marked ability. Each had developed his
theories for himself until he had become infatuated with them,
and despised everything differing from them.

This is a main cause why sundry ghastly creeds, doctrines, and
sects--religious, social, political, and philosophic--have been
developed in Russia. One of these religious creeds favors the
murder of new-born children in order to save their souls; another
enjoins ghastly bodily mutilations for a similar purpose; others
still would plunge the world in flames and blood for the
difference of a phrase in a creed, or a vowel in a name, or a
finger more or less in making the sign of the cross, or for this
garment in a ritual, or that gesture in a ceremony.

In social creeds they have developed nihilism, which virtually
assumes the right of an individual to sit in judgment upon the
whole human race and condemn to death every other human being who
may differ in opinion or position from this self-constituted
judge.

In political creeds they have conceived the monarch as the
all-powerful and irresponsible vicegerent of God, and all the
world outside Russia as given over to Satan, for the reason that
it has "rejected the divine principle of authority."

In various branches of philosophy they have developed doctrines
which involve the rejection of the best to which man has attained
in science, literature, and art, and a return to barbarism.

In the theory of life and duty they have devised a pessimistic
process under which the human race would cease to exist.

Every one of these theories is the outcome of some original mind
of more or less strength, discouraged, disheartened, and
overwhelmed by the sorrows of Russian life; developing its ideas
logically and without any possibility of adequate discussion with
other men. This alone explains a fact which struck me
forcibly--the fact that all Tolstoi's love of humanity, real
though it certainly is, seems accompanied by a depreciation of
the ideas, statements, and proposals of almost every other human
being, and by virtual intolerance of all thought which seems in
the slightest degree different from his own.

Arriving in the Kremlin, he took me to the Church of the
Annunciation to see the portrait of Socrates in the religious
picture of which he had spoken; but we were too late to enter,
and so went to the Palace of the Synod, where we looked at the
picture of the Trinity, which, by a device frequently used in
street signs, represents, when looked at from one side, the
suffering Christ, from the other the Holy Ghost in the form of a
dove, and from the front the Almighty as an old man with a white
beard. What Tolstoi thought of the doctrine thus illustrated came
out in a subsequent conversation.

The next day he came again to my rooms and at once began speaking
upon religion. He said that every man is religious and has in him
a religion of his own; that religion results from the conception
which a man forms of his relations to his fellow-men, and to the
principle which in his opinion controls the universe; that there
are three stages in religious development: first, the childhood
of nations, when man thinks of the whole universe as created for
him and centering in him; secondly, the maturity of nations, the
time of national religions, when each nation believes that all
true religion centers in it,--the Jews and the English, he said,
being striking examples; and, finally, the perfected conception
of nations, when man has the idea of fulfilling the will of the
Supreme Power and considers himself an instrument for that
purpose. He went on to say that in every religion there are two
main elements, one of deception and one of devotion, and he asked
me about the Mormons, some of whose books had interested him. He
thought two thirds of their religion deception, but said that on
the whole he preferred a religion which professed to have dug its
sacred books out of the earth to one which pretended that they
were let down from heaven. On learning that I had visited Salt
Lake City two years before, he spoke of the good reputation of
the Mormons for chastity, and asked me to explain the hold of
their religion upon women. I answered that Mormonism could hardly
be judged by its results at present; that, as a whole, the
Mormons are, no doubt, the most laborious and decent people in
the State of Utah; but that this is their heroic period, when
outside pressure keeps them firmly together and arouses their
devotion; that the true test will come later, when there is less
pressure and more knowledge, and when the young men who are now
arising begin to ask questions, quarrel with each other, and
split the whole body into sects and parties.

This led to questions in regard to American women generally, and
he wished to know something of their condition and prospects. I
explained some features of woman's condition among us, showing
its evolution, first through the betterment of her legal status,
and next through provision for her advanced education; but told
him that so far as political rights are concerned, there had been
very little practical advance in the entire East and South of the
country during the last fifty years, and that even in the extreme
Western States, where women have been given political rights and
duties to some extent, the concessions have been wavering and
doubtful.

At this, he took up his parable and said that women ought to have
all other rights except political; that they are unfit to
discharge political duties; that, indeed, one of the great
difficulties of the world at present lies in their possession of
far more consideration and control than they ought to have. "Go
into the streets and bazaars," he said, "and you will see the
vast majority of shops devoted to their necessities. In France
everything centers in women, and women have complete control of
life: all contemporary French literature shows this. Woman is not
man's equal in the highest qualities; she is not so
self-sacrificing as man. Men will, at times, sacrifice their
families for an idea; women will not." On my demurring to this
latter statement, he asked me if I ever knew a woman who loved
other people's children as much as her own. I gladly answered in
the negative, but cited Florence Nightingale, Sister Dora, and
others, expressing my surprise at his assertion that women are
incapable of making as complete sacrifices for any good cause as
men. I pointed to the persecutions in the early church, when
women showed themselves superior to men in suffering torture,
degradation, and death in behalf of the new religion, and added
similar instances from the history of witchcraft. To this he
answered that in spite of all such history, women will not make
sacrifices of their own interest for a good cause which does not
strikingly appeal to their feelings, while men will do so; that
he had known but two or three really self-sacrificing women in
his life; and that these were unmarried. On my saying that
observation had led me to a very different conclusion, his
indictment took another form. He insisted that woman hangs upon
the past; that public opinion progresses, but that women are
prone to act on the opinion of yesterday or of last year; that
women and womanish men take naturally to old absurdities, among
which he mentioned the doctrines of the Trinity, "spiritism," and
homeopathy. At this I expressed a belief that if, instead of
educating women, as Bishop Dupanloup expressed it, "in the lap of
the church (sur les genoux de l'eglise)," we educate them in the
highest sense, in universities, they will develop more and more
intellectually, and so become a controlling element in the
formation of a better race; that, as strong men generally have
strong mothers, the better education of woman physically,
intellectually, and morally is the true way of bettering the race
in general. In this idea he expressed his disbelief, and said
that education would not change women; that women are illogical
by nature. At this I cited an example showing that women can be
exceedingly logical and close in argument, but he still adhered
to his opinion. On my mentioning the name of George Eliot, he
expressed a liking for her.

On our next walk, he took me to the funeral of one of his
friends. He said that to look upon the dead should rather give
pleasure than pain; that memento mori is a wise maxim, and
looking upon the faces of the dead a good way of putting it in
practice. I asked him if he had formed a theory as to a future
life, and he said in substance that he had not; but that, as we
came at birth from beyond the forms of space and time, so at
death we returned whence we came. I said, "You use the word
'forms' in the Kantian sense?" "Yes," he said, "space and time
have no reality."

We arrived just too late at the house of mourning. The dead man
had been taken away; but many of those who had come to do him
honor still lingered, and were evidently enjoying the "funeral
baked meats." There were clear signs of a carousal. The friends
who came out to meet us had, most of them, flushed faces, and one
young man in military uniform, coming down the stairs, staggered
and seemed likely to break his neck.

Tolstoi refused to go in, and, as we turned away, expressed
disgust at the whole system, saying, as well he might, that it
was utterly barbarous. He seemed despondent over it, and I tried
to cheer him by showing how the same custom of drinking strong
liquors at funerals had, only a few generations since, prevailed
in large districts of England and America, but that better ideas
of living had swept it away.

On our way through the street, we passed a shrine at which a mob
of peasants were adoring a sacred picture. He dwelt on the
fetishism involved in this, and said that Jesus Christ would be
infinitely surprised and pained were he to return to earth and
see what men were worshiping in his name. He added a story of a
converted pagan who, being asked how many gods he worshiped,
said: "One, and I ate him this morning." At this I cited
Browning's lines put into the mouth of the bishop who wished,
from his tomb,

          "To hear the blessed mutter of the mass,
           And see God made and eaten all day long."


I reminded him of his definition of religion given me on one of
our previous walks, and he repeated it, declaring religion to be
the feeling which man has regarding his relation to the universe,
including his fellow-men, and to the power which governs all.

The afternoon was closed with a visit to a Raskolnik, or Old
Believer, and of all our experiences this turned out to be the
most curious. The Raskolniks, or Old Believers, compose that
wide-spread sect which broke off from the main body of the
Russian Church when the patriarch of Moscow, Nikon, in the
seventeenth century attempted to remove various textual errors
from the Bible and ceremonial books. These books had been copied
and recopied during centuries until their condition had become
monstrous. Through a mistake of some careless transcriber, even
the name of Jesus had been travestied and had come to be spelled
with two e's; the crudest absurdities had been copied into the
test; important parts had become unintelligible; and the time had
evidently arrived for a revision. Nikon saw this, and in good
faith summoned scholars from Constantinople to prepare more
correct editions; but these revised works met the fate which
attends such revisions generally. The great body of the people
were attached to the old forms; they preferred them, just as in
these days the great body of English-speaking Protestants prefer
the King James Bible to the Revised Version, even though the
latter may convey to the reader more correctly what was dictated
by the Holy Spirit. The feeling of the monks, especially, against
Nikon's new version became virulent. They raised so strong an
opposition among the people that an army had to be sent against
them; at the siege of the Solovetsk Monastery the conflict was
long and bloody, and as a result a large body of people and
clergy broke off from the church. Of course the more these
dissenters thought upon what Nikon had done, the more utterly
evil he seemed; but this was not all. A large part of Russian
religious duty, so far as the people are concerned, consists in
making the sign of the cross on all occasions. Before Nikon's
time this had been done rather carelessly, but, hoping to impress
a religious lesson, he ordered it to be made with three extended
fingers, thus reminding the faithful of the Trinity. At this the
Raskolniks insisted that the sign of the cross ought to be made
with two fingers, and out of this difference arose more
bitterness than from all other causes put together. From that day
to this the dissenters have insisted on enjoying the privilege of
reading the old version with all its absurdities, of spelling the
word Jesus with two e's, of crossing themselves with two fingers,
and of cursing Nikon.

This particular Raskolnik, or Old Believer, to whom Tolstoi took
me, was a Muscovite merchant of great wealth, living in a superb
villa on the outskirts of the city, with a large park about it;
the apartments, for size and beauty of decoration, fit for a
royal palace--the ceilings covered with beautiful frescos, and
the rooms full of statues and pictures by eminent artists, mainly
Russian and French. He was a man of some education, possessed a
large library, loved to entertain scientific men and to aid
scientific effort, and managed to keep on good terms with his
more fanatical coreligionists on one side and with the government
on the other, so that in emergencies he was an efficient
peacemaker between them. We found him a kindly, gentle old man,
with long, white hair and beard, and he showed us with evident
pleasure the principal statues and pictures, several of the
former being by Antokolski, the greatest contemporary Russian
sculptor. In the sumptuous dining-room, in which perhaps a
hundred persons could sit at table, he drew our attention to some
fine pictures of Italian scenes by Smieradsky, and, after passing
through the other rooms, took us into a cabinet furnished with
the rarest things to be found in the Oriental bazaars. Finally,
he conducted us into his private chapel, where, on the
iconostas,--the screen which, in accordance with the Greek
ritual, stands before the altar,--the sacred images of the
Saviour and various saints were represented somewhat differently
from those in the Russo-Greek Church, especially in that they
extended two fingers instead of three. To this difference I
called his attention, and he at once began explaining it. Soon he
grew warm, and finally fervid. Said he: "Why do we make the sign
of the cross? We do it to commemorate the crucifixion of our
blessed Lord. What is commemorated at the crucifixion? The
sacrifice of his two natures--the divine and the human. How do we
make the sign? We make it with two fingers, thus"--accompanied by
a gesture. "What does this represent? It represents what really
occurred: the sacrifice of the divine and the human nature of our
Lord. How do the Orthodox make it?" Here his voice began to rise.
"They make it with three fingers"--and now his indignation burst
all bounds, and with a tremendous gesture and almost a scream of
wrath he declared: "and every time they make it they crucify
afresh every one of the three persons of the holy and undivided
Trinity."

The old man's voice, so gentle at first, had steadily risen
during this catechism of his, in which he propounded the
questions and recited the answers, until this last utterance came
with an outcry of horror. The beginning of this catechism was
given much after the manner of a boy reciting mechanically the
pons asinorum, but the end was like the testimony of an ancient
prophet against the sins which doomed Israel.

This last burst was evidently too much for Tolstoi. He said not a
word in reply, but seemed wrapped in overpowering thought, and
anxious to break away. We walked out with the old Raskolnik, and
at the door I thanked him for his kindness; but even there, and
all the way down the long walk through the park, Tolstoi remained
silent. As we came into the road he suddenly turned to me and
said almost fiercely, "That man is a hypocrite; he can't believe
that; he is a shrewd, long-headed man; how can he believe such
trash? Impossible!" At this I reminded him of Theodore Parker's
distinction between men who believe and men who "believe that
they believe," and said that possibly our Raskolnik was one of
the latter. This changed the subject. He said that he had read
Parker's biography, and liked it all save one thing, which was
that he gave a pistol to a fugitive slave and advised him to
defend himself. This Tolstoi condemned on the ground that we are
not to resist evil. I told him of the advice I had given to
Dobroluboff, a very winning Russian student at Cornell
University, when he was returning to Russia to practise his
profession as an engineer. That advice was that he should bear in
mind Buckle's idea as to the agency of railways and telegraphs in
extending better civilization, and devote himself to his
profession of engineering, with the certainty that its ultimate
result would be to aid in the enlightenment of the empire; but
never, on any account, to conspire against the government;
telling him that he might be sure that he could do far more for
the advancement of Russian thought by building railways than by
entering into any conspiracies whatever. Tolstoi said the advice
was good, but that he would also have advised the young man to
speak out his ideas, whatever they might be. He said that only in
this way could any advance ever be made; that one main obstacle
in human progress is the suppression of the real thoughts of men.
I answered that all this had a fine sound; that it might do for
Count Tolstoi; but that a young, scholarly engineer following it
would soon find himself in a place where he could not promulgate
his ideas,--guarded by Cossacks in some remote Siberian mine.

He spoke of young professors in the universities, of their
difficulties, and of the risk to their positions if they spoke
out at all. I asked him if there was any liberality or breadth of
thought in the Russo-Greek Church. He answered that occasionally
a priest had tried to unite broader thought with orthodox dogma,
but that every such attempt had proved futile.

From Parker we passed to Lowell, and I again tried to find if he
really knew anything of Lowell's writings. He evidently knew very
little, and asked me what Lowell had written. He then said that
he had no liking for verse, and he acquiesced in Carlyle's saying
that nobody had ever said anything in verse which could not have
been better said in prose.

A day or two later, on another of our walks, I asked him how and
when, in his opinion, a decided advance in Russian liberty and
civilization would be made. He answered that he thought it would
come soon, and with great power. On my expressing the opinion
that such progress would be the result of a long evolutionary
process, with a series of actions and reactions, as heretofore in
Russian history, he dissented, and said that the change for the
better would come soon, suddenly, and with great force.

As we passed along the streets he was, as during our previous
walks, approached by many beggars, to each of whom he gave as
long as his money lasted. He said that he was accustomed to take
a provision of copper money with him for this purpose on his
walks, since he regarded it as a duty to give when asked, and he
went on to say that he carried the idea so far that even if he
knew the man wanted the money to buy brandy he would give it to
him; but he added that he would do all in his power to induce the
man to work and to cease drinking. I demurred strongly to all
this, and extended the argument which I had made during our
previous walk, telling him that by such giving he did two wrongs:
first, to the beggar himself, since it led him to cringe and lie
in order to obtain as a favor that which, if he did his duty in
working, he could claim as a right; and, secondly, to society by
encouraging such a multitude to prey upon it who might be giving
it aid and strength; and I again called his attention to the
hordes of sturdy beggars in Moscow. He answered that the results
of our actions in such cases are not the main thing, but the
cultivation of proper feelings in the giver is first to be
considered.

I then asked him about his manual labor. He said that his habit
was to rise early and read or write until noon, then to take his
luncheon and a short sleep, and after that to work in his garden
or fields. He thought this good for him on every account, and
herein we fully agreed.

On our return through the Kremlin, passing the heaps and rows of
cannon taken from the French in 1812, I asked him if he still
adhered to the low opinion of Napoleon expressed in "War and
Peace." He said that he did, and more than ever since he had
recently read a book on Napoleon's relations to women which
showed that he took the lowest possible view of womankind. I then
asked him if he still denied Napoleon's military genius. He
answered that he certainly did; that he did not believe in the
existence of any such thing as military genius; that he had never
been able to understand what is meant by the term. I asked, "How
then do you account for the amazing series of Napoleon's
successes?" He answered, "By circumstances." I rejoined that such
an explanation had the merit, at least, of being short and easy.

He then went on to say that battles are won by force of
circumstances, by chance, by luck; and he quoted Suvaroff to this
effect. He liked Lanfrey's "History of Napoleon" and Taine's book
on the Empire, evidently because both are denunciatory of men and
things he dislikes, but said that he did not believe in Thiers.

We came finally under the shade of the great tower and into the
gateway through which Napoleon entered the Kremlin; and there we
parted with a hearty good-bye.

The question has been asked me, at various times since, whether,
in my opinion, Tolstoi is really sincere; and allusion has been
made to a book published by a lady who claims to have been in
close relations with his family, which would seem to reveal a
theatrical element in his whole life. To this my answer has
always been, and still is, that I believe him to be one of the
most sincere and devoted men alive, a man of great genius and, at
the same time, of very deep sympathy with his fellow-creatures.

Out of this character of his come his theories of art and
literature; and, despite their faults, they seem to me more
profound and far-reaching than any put forth by any other man in
our time.

There is in them, for the current cant regarding art and
literature, a sound, sturdy, hearty contempt which braces and
strengthens one who reads or listens to him. It does one good to
hear his quiet sarcasms against the whole fin-de-siecle
business--the "impressionism," the "sensationalism," the vague
futilities of every sort, the "great poets" wallowing in the mud
of Paris, the "great musicians" making night hideous in German
concert-halls, the "great painters" of various countries mixing
their colors with as much filth as the police will allow. His
keen thrusts at these incarnations of folly and obscenity in the
last quarter of the nineteenth century, and especially at those
who seek to hide the poverty of their ideas in the obscurity of
their phrases, encourage one to think that in the next generation
the day of such pretenders will be done. His prophesying against
"art for art's sake"; his denunciation of art which simply
ministers to sensual pleasure; his ridicule of art which can be
discerned only by "people of culture"; his love for art which has
a sense, not only of its power, but of its obligations, which
puts itself at the service of great and worthy ideas, which
appeals to men as men--in this he is one of the best teachers of
his time and of future times.

Yet here come in his unfortunate limitations. From his
substitutions of assertion for inference, and from the inadequacy
of his view regarding sundry growths in art, literature, and
science, arises endless confusion.

For who will not be skeptical as to the value of any criticism by
a man who pours contempt over the pictures of Puvis de Chavannes,
stigmatizes one of Beethoven's purest creations as "corrupting,"
and calls Shakspere a "scribbler"!

Nothing can be more genuine than his manner: there is no posing,
no orating, no phrase-making; a quiet earnestness pervades all
his utterances. The great defect in him arises, as I have already
said, from a peculiarity in the development of his opinions:
namely, that during so large a part of his life he has been wont
to discuss subjects with himself and not with other men; that he
has, therefore, come to worship idols of his own creation, and
often very unsubstantial idols, and to look with misgiving and
distrust on the ideas of others. Very rarely during our
conversations did I hear him speak with any real enthusiasm
regarding any human being: his nearest approach to it was with
reference to the writings of the Rev. Adin Ballou, when he
declared him the foremost literary character that America has
produced. A result of all this is that when he is driven into a
corner his logic becomes so subtle as to be imperceptible, and he
is very likely to take refuge in paradoxes.

At times, as we walked together, he would pour forth a stream of
reasoning so lucid, out of depths so profound and reach
conclusions so cogent, that he seemed fairly inspired. At other
times he would develop a line of argument so outworn, and arrive
at conclusions so inane, that I could not but look into his face
closely to see if he could be really in earnest; but it always
bore that same expression--forbidding the slightest suspicion
that he was uttering anything save that which he believed, at
least for the time being.

As to the moral side, the stream of his thought was usually
limpid, but at times it became turbid and his better ideas seemed
to float on the surface as iridescent bubbles.

Had he lived in any other country, he would have been a power
mighty and permanent in influencing its thought and in directing
its policy; as it is, his thought will pass mainly as the
confused, incoherent wail and cry of a giant struggling against
the heavy adverse currents in that vast ocean of Russian life:

          "The cry of some strong swimmer in his agony."


The evolution of Tolstoi's ideas has evidently been mainly
determined by his environment. During two centuries Russia has
been coming slowly out of the middle ages--indeed, out of perhaps
the most cruel phases of mediaeval life. Her history is, in its
details, discouraging; her daily life disheartening. Even the
aspects of nature are to the last degree depressing: no
mountains; no hills; no horizon; no variety in forests; a soil
during a large part of the year frozen or parched; a people whose
upper classes are mainly given up to pleasure and whose lower
classes are sunk in fetishism; all their poetry and music in the
minor key; old oppressions of every sort still lingering; no help
in sight; and, to use their own cry, "God so high and the Czar so
distant."

When, then, a great man arises in Russia, if he gives himself
wholly to some well-defined purpose, looking to one high aim and
rigidly excluding sight or thought of the ocean of sorrow about
him, he may do great things. If he be Suvaroff or Skobeleff or
Gourko he may win great battles; if he be Mendeleieff he may
reach some epoch-making discovery in science; if he be Derjavine
he may write a poem like the "Ode to God"; if he be Antokolsky he
may carve statues like "Ivan the Terrible"; if he be Nesselrode
he may hold all Europe enchained to the ideas of the autocrat; if
he be Miloutine or Samarine or Tcherkassky he may devise vast
plans like those which enabled Alexander II to free twenty
millions of serfs and to secure means of subsistence for each of
them; if he be Prince Khilkoff he may push railway systems over
Europe to the extremes of Asia; if he be De Witte he may reform a
vast financial system.

But when a strong genius in Russia throws himself into
philanthropic speculations of an abstract sort, with no chance of
discussing his theories until they are full-grown and have taken
fast hold upon him,--if he be a man of science like Prince
Kropotkin, one of the most gifted scientific thinkers of our
time,--the result may be a wild revolt, not only against the
whole system of his own country, but against civilization itself,
and finally the adoption of the theory and practice of anarchism,
which logically results in the destruction of the entire human
race. Or, if he be an accomplished statesman and theologian like
Pobedonostzeff, he may reason himself back into mediaeval
methods, and endeavor to fetter all free thought and to crush out
all forms of Christianity except the Russo-Greek creed and
ritual. Or, if he be a man of the highest genius in literature,
like Tolstoi, whose native kindliness holds him back from the
extremes of nihilism, he may rear a fabric heaven-high, in which
truths, errors, and paradoxes are piled up together until we have
a new Tower of Babel. Then we may see this man of genius
denouncing all science and commending what he calls "faith";
urging a return to a state of nature, which is simply Rousseau
modified by misreadings of the New Testament; repudiating
marriage, yet himself most happily married and the father of
sixteen children; holding that Aeschylus and Dante and Shakspere
were not great in literature, and making Adin Ballou a literary
idol; holding that Michelangelo and Raphael were not great in
sculpture and painting, yet insisting on the greatness of sundry
unknown artists who have painted brutally; holding that
Beethoven, Handel, Mozart, Haydn, and Wagner were not great in
music, but that some unknown performer outside any healthful
musical evolution has given us the music of the future; declaring
Napoleon to have had no genius, but presenting Koutousoff as a
military ideal; loathing science--that organized knowledge which
has done more than all else to bring us out of mediaeval cruelty
into a better world--and extolling a "faith" which has always
been the most effective pretext for bloodshed and oppression.

The long, slow, every-day work of developing a better future for
his countrymen is to be done by others far less gifted than
Tolstoi. His paradoxes will be forgotten; but his devoted life,
his noble thoughts, and his lofty ideals will, as centuries roll
on, more and more give life and light to the new Russia.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

OFFICIAL LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG--1892-1894

The difficulties of a stranger seeking information in Russia seem
at times insurmountable. First of these is the government policy
of suppressing news. Foreign journals come to ordinary
subscribers with paragraphs and articles rubbed out with pumice
or blotted out with ink; consequently our Russian friends were
wont to visit the legation, seeking to read in our papers what
had been erased in their own, and making the most amusing
discoveries as to the stupidity of the official censorship:
paragraphs perfectly harmless being frequently blotted out, and
really serious attacks on the government unnoticed.

Very striking, as showing control over the newspaper press, was
an occurrence during my first summer at Helsingfors. One day our
family doctor came in, and reported a rumor that an iron-clad
monitor had sunk, the night before, on its way across the gulf
from Reval. Soon the story was found to be true. A squadron of
three ships had started; had encountered a squall; and in the
morning one of them--an old-fashioned iron-clad monitor--was
nowhere to be seen. She had sunk with all on board. Considerable
speculation concerning the matter arose, and sundry very guarded
remarks were ventured to the effect that the authorities at
Cronstadt would have been wiser had they not allowed the ship to
go out in such a condition that the first squall would send her
to the bottom. This discussion continued for about a week, when
suddenly the proper authorities served notice upon the press that
nothing more must be said on the subject.

This mandate was obeyed; the matter was instantly dropped;
nothing more was said; and, a year or two afterward, on my
inquiring of Admiral Makharoff whether anything had ever been
discovered regarding the lost ship and its crew, he answered in
the negative.

But more serious efforts than these were made to control thought.
The censorship of books was even more strongly, and, if possible,
more foolishly, exercised. At any of the great bookshops one
could obtain, at once, the worst publications of the Paris press;
but the really substantial and thoughtful books were carefully
held back. The average Russian, in order to read most of these
better works, must be specially authorized to do so.

I had a practical opportunity to see the system in operation.
Being engaged on the final chapters of my book, and needing
sundry scientific, philosophical, and religious treatises, such
as can be bought freely in every city of Western Europe, I went
to the principal bookseller in St. Petersburg, and was told that,
by virtue of my diplomatic position, I could have them; but that,
in order to do so, I must write an application, signing it with
my own name, and that then he would sell them to me within a few
days. This took place several times.

Still another difficulty is that, owing to lack of publicity, the
truth can rarely be found as regards any burning question: in the
prevailing atmosphere of secrecy and repression the simplest
facts are often completely shut from the foreign observer.

Owing to the lack of public discussion, Russia is the classic
ground of myth and legend. One sees myths and legends growing day
by day. The legend regarding the cure of the Archbishop of St.
Petersburg by Father Ivan of Cronstadt, which I have given in a
previous chapter, is an example. The same growth of legend is
seen with regard to every-day matters. For example, one meets
half a dozen people at five-o'clock tea in a Russian house, and
one of them says: "How badly the Emperor looked at court last
night." Another says: "Yes; his liver is evidently out of order;
he ought to go to Carlsbad." Another says: "I think that special
pains ought to be taken with his food," etc., etc. People then
scatter from this tea-table, and in a day or two one hears that
sufficient precaution is not taken with the Emperor's food; that
it would not be strange if some nihilist should seek to poison
him. A day or two afterward one hears that a nihilist HAS
endeavored to poison the Emperor. The legend grows, details
appear here and there, and finally there come in the newspapers
of Western Europe full and careful particulars of a thwarted plot
to poison his Majesty.

Not the least of the embarrassments which beset an American
minister in Russia is one which arose at various times during my
stay, its source being the generous promptness of our people to
take as gospel any story regarding Russian infringement of human
rights. One or two cases will illustrate this.

During my second winter, despatches by mail and wire came to me
thick and fast regarding the alleged banishment of an American
citizen to Siberia for political reasons; and with these came
petitions and remonstrances signed by hundreds of Americans of
light and leading; also newspaper articles, many and bitter.

On making inquiries through the Russian departments of foreign
affairs and of justice, I found the fact to be that this injured
American had been, twenty years before, a Russian police agent in
Poland; that he had stolen funds intrusted to him and had taken
refuge in America; that, relying on the amnesty proclaimed at the
accession of the late Emperor, he had returned to his old haunts;
that he had been seized, because the amnesty did not apply to the
category of criminals to which he belonged; that he had not been
sent to Siberia; that there was no thought of sending him there;
but that the authorities proposed to recover the money he had
stolen if they could. Another case was typical: One day an
excellent English clergyman came to me in great distress, stating
that an American citizen was imprisoned in the city. I
immediately had the man brought before a justice, heard his
testimony and questioned him, publicly and privately. He swore
before the court, and insisted to me in private, that he had
never before been in Russia; that he was an American citizen born
of a Swedish father and an Alaskan mother upon one of the Alaskan
islands; and he showed a passport which he had obtained at
Washington by making oath to that effect. On the other hand
appeared certain officers of the Russian navy, in excellent
standing, who swore that they knew the man perfectly to be a
former employee of their engineering department and a deserter
from a Russian ship of war in the port of St. Petersburg. It was
also a somewhat significant fact that he spoke Russian much
better than English, and that he seemed to have a knowledge of
Russian affairs very remarkable for a man who had never been in
Russia; but to account for this he insisted upon the statement as
to his birth in Alaska. Appearances were certainly very strongly
against him, and he was remanded to await more testimony in his
favor; but the next thing I heard was that he had escaped, had
arrived in New York, was posing as a martyr, had graciously
granted interviews to various representatives of the press, and
had thereby stimulated some very lurid editorials against the
Russian Government.

Another case was that of a Russian who, having reached the United
States, burdened the files of the State Department and of the
legation with complaints against the American minister because
that official did not send out the man's wife to him. The
minister had, indeed, forwarded the necessary passports, but the
difficulty was that the German authorities would not allow the
woman to enter Germany without showing herself to be in
possession of means sufficient to prevent her becoming a public
charge; and these her husband could not, or would not, send,
insisting that now that he was naturalized he had a right to have
his wife brought to America.

I have no apology to make for the Russian system--far from it;
but I would state, in the interest of international comity, that
it is best for Americans not to be too prompt in believing all
the stories of alleged sufferers from Russian despotism, and
especially of those who wish to use their American citizenship
simply in order to return to Russia and enjoy business advantages
superior to those of their neighbors.

That there are many meritorious refugees cannot be denied; but
any one who has looked over extradition papers, as I have been
obliged to do, and seen people posing as Russian martyrs who are
comfortably carrying on in New York the business of
counterfeiting bank-notes, and unctuously thanking God in their
letters for their success in the business, will be slow to join
in the outcries of refugees of doubtful standing claiming to be
suffering persecution on account of race, religion, or political
opinion.

Nor are Russian-Americans the only persons who weary an American
representative. One morning a card was brought in bearing an
undoubted American name, and presently there followed it a tall
raw-boned man with long flaxen hair, who began orating to me as
follows: "Sir, you are an ambassador from the President of the
United States; I am an ambassador from God Almighty. I am sent
here to save the Emperor. He is a good man; he is followed up by
bad men who seek his life; I can save him; I will be his
cup-bearer; I WILL DRIVE HIS TEAM." This latter conception of the
Emperor's means of locomotion struck me as naive, especially in
view of the fact that near my house was an immense structure
filled with magnificent horses for the Emperor and court--a
veritable equine palace. "Yes," said my visitor; "I will drive
the Emperor's team. I want you to introduce me to him
immediately." My answer was that it was not so easy to secure a
presentation to the Emperor, offhand; that considerable time
would be necessary in any case. To this my visitor answered: "I
must see him at once; I am invited to come by the Empress." On my
asking when he received this invitation, he said that it was
given him on board the steamer between New York and Hamburg, her
Majesty and her children being the only other passengers besides
himself in the second-class cabin. To this I said that there must
certainly be some mistake; that her Majesty rarely, if ever,
traveled on public lines of steamers; that if she had done so,
she certainly would not have been a passenger in the second
cabin. To this he answered that he was absolutely certain that it
was the Empress who had given him the invitation and urged him to
come and save the Emperor's life. On my asking him the date of
this invitation, he looked through his diary and found it. At
this, sending for a file of the official newspaper of St.
Petersburg, I showed him that on the day named her Majesty was
receiving certain officials at the palace in St. Petersburg;
whereat he made an answer which for the moment threw me
completely off my balance. He said, "Sir, I have lived long
enough not to believe everything I see in the newspapers."

I quieted him as best I could, but on returning to his hotel he
indulged in some very boisterous conduct, one of the minor
features of which was throwing water in the faces of the waiters;
so that, fearing lest actions like this and his loud utterances
regarding the Emperor and Empress might get him into trouble, I
wrote a friendly letter to the prefect of St. Petersburg, stating
the case, and asking that, if it was thought best to arrest the
man, he should be placed in some comfortable retreat for the
insane and be well cared for until I could communicate with his
friends in America. Accordingly, a day or two afterward, a
handsome carriage drove up to the door of his hotel, bearing two
kindly gentlemen, who invited him to accompany them. Taking it
for granted that he was to be escorted to the palace to meet his
Majesty, he went without making any objections, and soon found
himself in commodious rooms and most kindly treated.

It being discovered that he was an excellent pianist, a grand
piano was supplied him; and he was very happy in his musical
practice, and in the thought that he was lodged in the palace and
would soon communicate his message to the Emperor. At various
times I called upon him and found him convinced that his great
mission would soon be accomplished; but after a week or ten days
he began to have doubts, and said to me that he distrusted the
Russians and would prefer to go on and deliver a message with
which he was charged to the Emperor of China. On my showing him
sundry difficulties, he said that at any rate there was one place
where he would certainly be well received--Marlborough House in
London; that he was sure the Prince of Wales would welcome him
heartily. At last, means having been obtained from his friends, I
sought to forward him from St. Petersburg; but, as no steamers
thence would take a lunatic, I sent my private secretary with him
to Helsingfors, and thence secured his passage to America.

A very curious feature in the case, as told me afterward by a
gentleman who traveled in the same steamer, was that this
American delighted the company day after day with his music, and
that no one ever saw anything out of the way in his utterances or
conduct. He seemed to have forgotten all about his great missions
and to have become absorbed in his piano.

Among the things to which special and continued attention had to
be given by the legation was the Chicago Exposition. I was
naturally desirous to see it a success; indeed, it was my duty to
do everything possible to promote it. The magnificent plans which
the Chicago people had developed and were carrying out with such
wonderful energy interested thinking Russians. But presently came
endeavors which might easily have brought the whole enterprise
into disrepute; for some of the crankish persons who always hang
on the skirts of such enterprises had been allowed to use
official stationery, and they had begun writing letters, and even
instructions, to American diplomatic agents abroad.

The first of these which attracted my attention was one
requesting me to ask the Empress to write a book in the shape of
a "Report on Women's Work in Russia," careful instructions being
given as to how and at what length she must write it.

A letter also came from one of these quasi-officials at Chicago,
not requesting, but instructing, me to ask the Emperor to report
to his bureau on the condition of the empire; funnily enough,
this "instruction" was evidently one of several, and they had
been ground out so carelessly that the one which I was instructed
to deliver to the Emperor was addressed to the "King of Holland."
It was thus made clear that this important personage at Chicago,
who usurped the functions of the Secretary of State, had not even
taken the trouble to find out that there was no such person as a
"King of Holland," the personage whom he vaguely had in mind
being, no doubt, the Queen Regent of the Netherlands.

Soon there followed another of these quasi-instructions, showing
another type of crankishness. Beginning with the weighty
statement that "the school-boys of every country are the future
men of that country," it went on with a declaration that it had
been decided to hold a convention of the school-children of the
world at Chicago, in connection with the Exposition, and ended by
instructing me to invite to its deliberations the school-children
of Russia. Of course I took especial care not to communicate any
of these things to any Russian: to have done so would have made
the Exposition, instead of the admiration, the laughing-stock of
the empire; but I wrote a letter to the assistant secretary of
state, Mr. Quincy, who presently put an end to these vagaries.

One is greatly struck in Russia by the number of able and gifted
men and women scattered through Russian society, and at the
remarkable originality of some of them. The causes of this
originality I touch in my chapter on Tolstoi.

It was a duty as well as a pleasure for me to keep up my
acquaintance with persons worth knowing; and, while many of the
visits thus made were perfunctory and tedious, some were
especially gratifying. My rule was, after office hours in the
afternoon, to get into the open sledge; to make my visits; and as
a result, of course, to see and hear a vast deal of frivolity and
futility, but, from time to time, more important things.

The entertainments given by wealthy Russian nobles to the
diplomatic corps were by no means so frequent or so lavish as of
old. Two reasons were assigned for this, one being the abolition
of the serf system, which had impoverished the nobility, and the
other the fact that the Emperor Alexander III had set the fashion
of paying less attention to foreigners than had formerly been the
custom.

The main hospitalities, so far as the Emperor and Empress were
concerned, were the great festivities at the Winter Palace,
beginning on the Russian New Year's day, which was twelve days
later than ours. The scene was most brilliant. The vast halls
were filled with civil and military officials from all parts of
the empire, in the most gorgeous costumes, an especially striking
effect being produced by the caftans, or long coats, of the
various Cossack regiments, the armor and helmets of the Imperial
Guards, and the old Russian costumes of the ladies. All of the
latter, on this occasion, from the Empress down, wore these
costumes: there was great variety in these; but their main
features were the kakoshniks, or ornamental crowns, and the
tunics in bright colors.

The next of these great ceremonies at the Winter Palace was the
blessing of the waters upon the 8th of January. The diplomatic
corps and other guests were allowed to take their places at the
palace windows looking out over the Neva, and thence could see
the entire procession, which, having gone down the ambassadors'
staircase, appeared at a temple which had been erected over an
opening in the ice of the river. The Emperor, the grand dukes,
and the Archbishop of St. Petersburg, with his suffragan bishops,
all took part in this ceremonial; and the music, which was
selected from the anthems of Bortniansky, was very solemn and
impressive.

During the winter came court balls, and, above all, the "palm
balls." The latter were, in point of brilliancy, probably beyond
anything in any court of modern times. After a reception, during
which the Emperor and Empress passed along the diplomatic circle,
speaking to the various members, dancing began, and was continued
until about midnight; then the doors were flung open into other
vast halls, which had been changed into palm-groves. The palms
for this purpose are very large and beautiful, four series of
them being kept in the conservatories for this special purpose,
each series being used one winter and then allowed to rest for
three winters before it is brought out again. Under these palms
the supper-tables are placed, and from fifteen hundred to two
thousand people sit at these as the guests of the Czar and
Czarina. These entertainments seem carried to the extreme of
luxury, their only defect being their splendid monotony: only
civil, military, and diplomatic officials are present, and a
new-comer finds much difficulty in remembering their names. There
are said to be four hundred Princes Galitzin in the empire, and I
personally knew three Counts Tolstoi who did not know each other;
but the great drawback is the fact that all these entertainments
are exactly alike, always the same thing: merely civil and
military functionaries and their families; and for strangers no
occupation save to dance, play cards, talk futilities, or simply
stare.

The Berlin court, though by no means so brilliant at first sight
and far smaller,--since the most I ever saw in any gathering in
the Imperial Schloss at the German capital was about fifteen
hundred,--was really much more attractive, its greater interest
arising from the presence of persons distinguished in every
field. While at St. Petersburg one meets only civil and military
functionaries, at Berlin one meets not only these, but the most
prominent men in politics, science, literature, art, and the
higher ranges of agriculture, commerce, and manufacture. At St.
Petersburg, when I wished to meet such men, who added to the
peaceful glories of the empire, I went to their houses in the
university quarter; at Berlin I met them also at court.

As to court episodes during my stay, one especially dwells in my
memory. On arriving rather early one evening, I noticed a large,
portly man, wearing the broad red ribbon of the Legion of Honor,
and at once saw that he could be no other than Prince Victor
Napoleon, the Bonaparte heir to the crown of France. Though he
was far larger than the great Napoleon, and had the eyes of his
mother, Princess Clothilde, his likeness to his father, Prince
Napoleon ("Plon-Plon"), whom I had seen years before at Paris,
was very marked. Presently his brother, who had just arrived from
his regiment in the Caucasus, came up and began conversation with
him. Both seemed greatly vexed at something. On the arrival of
the Italian ambassador, he naturally went up and spoke to the
prince, who was the grandson of King Victor Emmanuel; but the
curious thing was that the French ambassador, Count de
Montebello, and the prince absolutely cut each other. Neither
seemed to have the remotest idea that the other was in the room,
and this in spite of the fact that the Montebellos are descended
from Jean Lannes, the stable-boy whom Napoleon made a marshal of
France and Duke of Montebello, thus founding the family to which
the French ambassador belonged. The show of coolness on the part
of the imperial family evidently vexed the French pretender. He
was, indeed, allowed to enter the room behind the imperial train;
but he was not permitted to sit at the imperial table, being
relegated to a distant and very modest seat. I was informed that,
though the Emperor could, and did, have the prince to dine with
him in private, he felt obliged, in view of the relations between
Russia and the French Republic, to carefully avoid any special
recognition of him in public.

A far more brilliant visitor was the Ameer of Bokhara. I have
already spoken of the way in which he was placed upon the throne
by General Annenkof. He now came to visit the Czar as his
suzerain, and with him came his eldest son and a number of his
great men. The satrap himself was a singular combination of
splendor and stoicism, wearing a gorgeous dress covered with
enormous jewels, and observing the brilliant scenes about him
with hardly ever a word. Even when he took his place at the table
beside the Empress he was very uncommunicative. Facing the
imperial table sat his great men; and their embarrassment was
evident, one special source of it being clearly their small
acquaintance with European table utensils. The Ameer brought to
St. Petersburg splendid presents of gold and jewels, after the
Oriental fashion, and also the heir to his throne, whom he left
as a sort of hostage to be educated at the capital.

An eminent Russian who was in very close relations with the Ameer
gave me some account of this young man. Although he was then
perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age, he was, as regards
conduct, a mere baby, bursting out into loud boohooing the first
time he was presented to the Emperor, and showing himself very
immature in various ways. Curiously enough, when he was taken to
the cadet school he was found to be unable to walk for any
considerable distance. He had always been made to squat and be
carried, and the first thing to be done toward making him a
Russian officer was to train him in using his legs. He took an
especial fancy to bicycles: in the park attached to the cadet
school he became very proficient in the use of them; and,
returning to Bokhara at his first vacation, he took with him, not
only a bicycle for himself, but another for his brother. Shortly
after his home-coming, the Ameer and court being assembled, he
gave a display of his powers; but, to his great mortification,
the Ameer was disgusted: the idea that the heir to the throne
should be seen working his way in this fashion was contrary to
all the ideas of that potentate, and he ordered the bicycles to
be at once destroyed. But on the young man's return to St.
Petersburg he bought another; resumed his exercises upon it; and
will, no doubt, when he comes to the throne, introduce that form
of locomotion into the Mohammedan regions of Northern Asia.

Among the greater displays of my final year were a wedding and a
funeral. The former was that of the Emperor's eldest daughter,
the Grand Duchess Xenia, at Peterhof. It was very brilliant, and
was conducted after the usual Russian fashion, its most curious
features being the leading of the couple about the altar and
their drinking out of the same cup.

Coming from the ceremony in the chapel, we of the diplomatic
corps found ourselves, at the foot of the great staircase, in a
crush. But just at the side was a large door of plate-glass
opening upon an outer gallery communicating with other parts of
the palace; and standing guard at this door was one of the
"Nubians" whom I had noticed, from time to time, at the Winter
Palace--an enormous creature, very black, very glossy, with the
most brilliant costume possible. I had heard much of these
"Nubians," and had been given to understand that they had been
brought from Central Africa by special command. At great
assemblages in the imperial palaces, just before the doors were
flung open for the entrance of the Majesties and their cortege,
two great black hands were always to be seen put through the
doors, ready to open them in an instant--the hands of two of
these "Nubians." I had built up in my mind quite a structure of
romance regarding them, and now found myself in the crush at the
foot of the grand staircase near one of them. As I looked up at
him he said to me, with deferential compassion, "If you please,
sah, would n't you like to git out of de crowd, sah, through dis
yere doah?" By his dialect he was evidently one of my own
compatriots, and, though in a sort of daze at this discovery, I
mechanically accepted his invitation; whereupon he opened the
door, let us through, and kept back the crowd.

Splendid, too, in its way, was the funeral of the Grand Duchess
Catherine at the Fortress Church. It was very impressive, almost
as much so as the funeral of the Emperor Nicholas, which I had
attended at the same place nearly forty years before. The Emperor
Alexander III, with his brothers, had followed the hearse and
coffin on foot, and his Majesty was evidently greatly fatigued.
Soon he retired to take rest, and then it was that we began to
have the first suspicion of his fatal illness. Up to that time
there had been skepticism. Very few had thought it possible that
a man of such giant frame and strength could be seriously ill,
but now there could be no doubt of it. Standing near him, I
noticed his pallor and evident fatigue, and was not surprised
that he twice left the place, in order, evidently, to secure
rest. There was need of it. In the Russian Church the rule is
that all must stand, and all of us stood from about ten in the
morning until half-past one in the afternoon; but two high
officials covered with gold lace and orders, bearing tapers by
the side of the grand duchess's coffin, toppled over from
exhaustion and were removed.

As to other spectacles, one of the most splendid was the midnight
mass on Easter eve. At my former visit I had seen this at the
Kazan Church; now we went to the Cathedral of St. Isaac. The
ceremony was brilliant almost beyond conception, as in the old
days; the music was heavenly; and, as the clocks struck twelve,
the cannons of the fortress of Peter and Paul boomed forth, all
the bells of the city began chiming, and a light, appearing at
the extreme end of the church, seemed to run in all directions
through the vast assemblage, and presently all seemed ablaze.
Every person in the church was holding a taper, and within a few
moments all of these had been lighted.

Most beautiful of all was the music at another of these Easter
ceremonies, when the choristers, robed in white, came forth from
the sanctuary and sang hymns by the side of the empty sepulcher
under the dome.

The singing by the choirs in Russia is, in many respects, more
beautiful than similar music in any other part of the world, save
that of the cathedral choir of Berlin at its best. I have heard
the Sistine, Pauline, and Lateran choirs at Rome; and they are
certainly far inferior to these Russian singers. No instrumental
music is allowed and no voices of women. The choristers are men
and boys. There are several fine choirs in St. Petersburg, but
three are famous: that of the Emperor at the Winter Palace
Chapel, that of the Archbishop at the Cathedral of St. Isaac, and
that of the Nevski Monastery. Occasionally there were concerts
when all were combined, and nothing in its way could be more
perfect.

Operatic music also receives careful attention. Enormous
subsidies are given to secure the principal singers of Europe at
the Italian, French, and German theaters; but the most lavish
outlay is upon the national opera: it is considered a matter of
patriotism to maintain it at the highest point possible. The
Russian Opera House is an enormous structure, and the finest
piece which I saw given there was Glinka's "Life for the Czar."
Being written by a Russian, on a patriotic subject, and from an
ultra-loyal point of view, everything had been done to mount it
in the most superb way possible: never have I seen more wonderful
scenic effects, the whole culminating in the return of one of the
old fighting czars to the Kremlin after his struggle with the
Poles. The stage was enormous and the procession magnificent. The
personages in it were the counterparts, as regarded dress, of the
persons they represented, exact copies having been made of the
robes and ornaments of the old Muscovite boyards, as preserved in
the Kremlin Museum; and at the close of this procession came a
long line of horses, in the most superb trappings imaginable,
attended by guards and outriders in liveries of barbaric
splendor, and finally the imperial coach. We were enabled to
catch sight of the Cossack guards on the front of it, when, just
as the body of the coach was coming into view, down came the
curtain. This was the result of a curious prohibition, enforced
in all theaters in Russia: on no account is it permitted to
represent the sacred person of any emperor upon the stage.

As to other music, very good concerts were occasionally given,
the musicians being generally from Western Europe.

Very pleasant were sundry excursions, especially during the long
summer twilight; and among these were serenade parties given by
various members of the diplomatic corps. In a trim steam-yacht,
and carrying singers with us, we sailed among the islands in the
midnight hours, stopping, from time to time, to greet friends
occupying cottages there.

As to excursions in the empire, I have already given, in my
chapter on Tolstoi, some account of my second visit to Moscow;
and a more complete account is reserved for a chapter on "Sundry
Excursions and Experiences." The same may be said, also,
regarding an excursion taken, during one of my vacations, in
Sweden, Norway, and Denmark.

In 1893, a new administration having brought into power the party
opposed to my own, I tendered to President Cleveland my
resignation, and, in the full expectation that it would be
accepted, gave up my apartment; but as, instead of an acceptance,
there came a very kind indication of the President's confidence,
good-will, and preference for my continuance at my post, I
remained in the service a year longer, occupying my odds and ends
of time in finishing my book. Then, feeling the need of going
elsewhere to revise it, I wrote the President, thanking him for
his confidence and kindness, but making my resignation final, and
naming the date when it would be absolutely necessary for me to
leave Russia. A very kind letter from him was the result; the
time I had named was accepted; and on the 1st of November, 1894,
to my especial satisfaction, I was once more free from official
duty.



CHAPTER XXXIX

AS MEMBER OF THE VENEZUELA COMMISSION--1895-1896

Early one morning, just at the end of 1895, as I was at work
before the blazing fire in my library at the university, the
winter storms howling outside, a card was brought in bearing the
name of Mr. Hamlin, assistant secretary of the treasury of the
United States. While I was wondering what, at that time of the
year, could have brought a man from such important duties in
Washington to the bleak hills of central New York, he entered,
and soon made known his business, which was to tender me, on the
part of President Cleveland, a position upon the commission which
had been authorized by Congress to settle the boundary between
the republic of Venezuela and British Guiana.

The whole matter had attracted great attention, not only in the
United States, but throughout the world. The appointment of the
commission was the result of a chain of circumstances very
honorable to the President, to his Secretary of State, Mr. Olney,
and to Congress. For years the Venezuelan government had been
endeavoring to establish a frontier between its territory and
that of its powerful neighbor, but without result; and meantime
the British boundary seemed to be pushed more and more into the
territory of the little Spanish-American republic. For years,
too, Venezuela had appealed to the United States, and the United
States had appealed to Great Britain. American secretaries of
state and ambassadors at the Court of St. James had "trusted,"
and "regretted," and had "the honor to renew assurances of their
most distinguished consideration"; but all in vain. At last the
matter had been presented by Secretary Olney to the government of
Lord Salisbury; and now, to Mr. Olney's main despatch on the
subject, Lord Salisbury, after some months' delay, had returned
an answer declining arbitration, and adding that international
law did not recognize the Monroe Doctrine. This seemed even more
than cool; for, when one remembered that the Monroe Doctrine was
at first laid down with the approval of Great Britain, that it
was glorified in Parliament and in the British press of 1823 and
the years following, and that Great Britain had laid down
policies in various parts of the earth, especially in the
Mediterranean and in the far East, which she insisted that all
other powers should respect without reference to any sanction by
international law, this argument seemed almost insulting.

So it evidently seemed to Mr. Cleveland. Probably no man less
inclined to demagogism or to a policy of adventure ever existed;
but as he looked over the case his American instincts were
evidently aroused. He saw then, what is clear to everybody now,
that it was the time of all times for laying down, distinctly and
decisively, the American doctrine on the subject. He did so, and
in a message to Congress proposed that, since Great Britain would
not intrust the finding of a boundary to arbitration, the United
States should appoint commissioners to find what the proper
boundary was, and then, having ascertained it, should support its
sister American republic in maintaining it.

Of course the President was attacked from all sides most
bitterly; even those called "the better element" in the
Republican and Democratic parties, who had been his ardent
supporters, now became his bitter enemies. He was charged with
"demagogism" and "jingoism," but he kept sturdily on. Congress,
including the great body of the Republicans, supported him; the
people at large stood by him; and, as a result, a commission to
determine the boundary was appointed and began its work in
Washington, the commissioners being, in the order named by the
President, David J. Brewer of Kansas, a justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States; Chief Justice Alvey of the District
of Columbia; Andrew D. White of New York; F. R. Coudert, an
eminent member of the New York bar; and Daniel C. Gilman of
Maryland, President of Johns Hopkins University.

On our arrival in Washington there was much discouragement among
us. We found ourselves in a jungle of geographical and legal
questions, with no clue in sight leading anywhither. The rights
of Great Britain had been derived in 1815, from the Netherlands;
the rights of Venezuela had been derived, about 1820, from Spain;
but to find the boundary separating the two in that vast
territory, mainly unsettled, between the Orinoco and the
Essequibo rivers, seemed impossible.

The original rights of the Netherlands had been derived from
Spain by the treaty of Munster in 1648; and on examining that
enormous document, which settled weighty questions in various
parts of the world, after the life-and-death struggle, religious,
political, and military, which had gone on for nearly eighty
years, one little clause arrested our attention: that, namely, in
which the Spaniards, despite their bitter hatred of the Dutch,
agreed that the latter might carry on warlike operations against
"certain other people" with reference to territorial rights in
America. These "certain other people" were not precisely
indicated; and we hoped, by finding who they were, to get a clue
to the fundamental facts of the case. Straightway two of our
three lawyers, Mr. Justice Brewer and Mr. Coudert, grappled on
this question, one of them taking the ground that these "other
people" referred to were the Caribbean Indians who had lived just
south of the mouth of the Orinoco, and had been friendly to the
Dutch but implacable toward the Spaniards, and that their
territory was to be considered as virtually Dutch, and,
therefore, as having passed finally to England. But the other
disputant insisted that it referred to the Brazilians and had no
relation to the question with which we had to deal. During two
whole sessions this ground was fought over in a legal way by
these gentlemen, with great acumen, the rest of us hardly putting
in a word.

At the beginning of the third session I ventured a remonstrance,
saying that it was a historical, and not a legal, question; that
it could not possibly be settled by legal argument; that the
first thing to know was why the clause was inserted in the
treaty, and that the next thing was to find, from the whole
history leading up to it, who those "other persons" thus vaguely
referred to and left by the Spaniards to the tender mercies of
the Dutch might be; and I insisted that this, being a historical
question, must be solved by historical experts. The commission
acknowledged the justice of this; and on my nomination we called
to our aid Mr. George Lincoln Burr, professor of history in
Cornell University. It is not at all the very close friendship
which has existed for so many years between us which prompts the
assertion that, of all historical scholars I have ever known, he
is among the very foremost, by his powers of research, his
tenacity of memory, his almost preternatural accuracy, his
ability to keep the whole field of investigation in his mind, and
his fidelity to truth and justice. He was set at the problem, and
given access to the libraries of Congress and of the State
Department, as also to the large collections of books and maps
which had been placed at the disposal of the commission. Of these
the most important were those of Harvard University and the
University of Wisconsin. Curious as it may seem, this latter
institution, far in the interior of our country, possesses a
large and most valuable collection of maps relating to the
colonization history of South America. Within two weeks Professor
Burr reported, and never did a report give more satisfaction. He
had unraveled, historically, the whole mystery, and found that,
the government of Brazil having played false to both Spaniards
and Dutch, Spain had allowed the Netherlands to take vengeance
for the vexations of both. We also had the exceedingly valuable
services, as to maps and early colonization history, of Mr.
Justin Winsor, librarian of Harvard University, eminent both as
historian and geographer, and of Professor Jameson of Brown
University, who had also distinguished himself in these fields.
Besides these, Mr. Marcus Baker of the United States Coast Survey
aided us, from day to day, in mapping out any territories that we
wished especially to study.

All this work was indispensable. At the very beginning of our
sessions there had been laid before us the first of a series of
British Blue Books on the whole subject; and, with all my
admiration for the better things in British history, politics,
and life, candor compels me to say that it was anything but
creditable to the men immediately responsible for it. It made
several statements that were absolutely baseless, and sought to
rest them upon authorities which, when examined, were found not
to bear in the slightest degree the interpretation put upon them.
I must confess that nothing, save, perhaps, the conduct of
British "experts" regarding the Behring Sea question, has ever
come so near shaking my faith in "British fair play." Nor were
the American commissioners alone in judging this document
severely. Critics broke forth, even in the London "Times,"
denouncing it, until it was supplanted by another, which was fair
and just.

I, of course, impute nothing to the leading British statesmen who
had charge of the whole Venezuelan question. The culprits were,
undoubtedly, sundry underlings whose zeal outran their honesty.
They apparently thought that in the United States, which they
probably considered as new, raw, and too much engaged in
dollar-hunting to produce scholars, their citations from
authorities more or less difficult of access would fail to be
critically examined. But their conduct was soon exposed, and even
their principals joined in repudiating some of their fundamental
statements. Professor Burr was sent abroad, and at The Hague was
able to draw treasures from the library and archives regarding
the old Dutch occupation and to send a mass of important material
for our deliberations. In London also he soon showed his
qualities, and these were acknowledged even by some leading
British geographers. The latter had at first seemed inclined to
indulge in what a German might call "tendency" geography; but the
clearness, earnestness, and honesty of our agent soon gained
their respect, and, after that, the investigators of both sides
worked harmoniously together. While the distinguished lawyers
above named had main charge of the legal questions, President
Gilman, who had in his early life been professor of physical and
general geography at Yale, was given charge of the whole matter
of map-seeking and -making; and to me, with the others, was left
the duty of studying and reporting upon the material as brought
in. Taking up my residence at Washington, I applied myself
earnestly to reading through masses of books, correspondence, and
other documents, and studied maps until I felt as if I had lived
in the country concerned and was personally acquainted with the
Dutch governors on the Cuyuni and the Spanish monks on the
Orinoco. As a result lines more or less tentative were prepared
by each of us, Judge Brewer and myself agreeing very closely, and
the others not being very distant from us at any important point.
One former prime minister of Great Britain I learned, during this
investigation, to respect greatly,--Lord Aberdeen, whom I well
remembered as discredited and driven from power during my stay in
Russia at the time of the Crimean War. He was wise enough in
those days to disbelieve in war with Russia, and to desire a
solution of the Turkish problem by peace, but was overruled, and
the solution was attempted by a war most costly in blood and
treasure, which was apparently successful, but really a failure.
He was driven from his post with ignominy; and I well remembered
seeing a very successful cartoon in "Punch" at that period,
representing him, wearing coronet and mantle and fast asleep, at
the helm of the ship of state, which was rolling in the trough of
the sea and apparently about to founder.

Since that time his wisdom has, I think, been recognized; and I
am now glad to acknowledge the fact that, of all the many British
statesmen who dealt with the Venezuelan question, he was clearly
the most just. The line he drew seemed to me the fairest
possible. He did not attempt to grasp the mouth of the Orinoco,
nor did he meander about choice gold-fields or valuable strategic
points, seeking to include them. The Venezuelans themselves had
shown willingness to accept his proposal; but alleged, as their
reason for not doing so, that the British government had preached
to them regarding their internal policy so offensively that
self-respect forbade them to acquiesce in any part of it.

Toward this Aberdeen line we tended more and more; and in the
sequel we heard, with very great satisfaction, that the
Arbitration Tribunal at Paris had practically adopted this line,
which we of the commission had virtually agreed upon. It need
hardly be stated that, each side having at the beginning of the
arbitration claimed the whole vast territory between the Orinoco
and the Essequibo, neither was quite satisfied with the award.
But I believe it to be thoroughly just, and that it forms a most
striking testimony to the value of international arbitration in
such questions, as a means, not only of preserving international
peace, but of arriving at substantial justice.

Our deliberations and conclusions were, of course, kept secret.
It was of the utmost importance that nothing should get out
regarding them. Our sessions were delayed and greatly prolonged,
partly on account of the amount of work to be done in studying
the many questions involved, and partly because we hoped that,
more and more, British opinion would tend to the submission of
the whole question to the judgment of a proper international
tribunal; and that Lord Salisbury, the prime minister, who, in
his rather cynical, "Saturday-Review," high-Tory way, had scouted
the idea of arbitration, would at last be brought to it. Of
course, every thinking Englishman looked with uneasiness toward
the possibility that a line might be laid down by the United
States which it would feel obliged to maintain, and which would
necessitate its supporting Venezuela, at all hazards, against
Great Britain.

The statesmanship of Mr. Cleveland and Mr. Olney finally
triumphed. Most fortunately for both parties, Great Britain had
at Washington a most eminent diplomatist, whose acquaintance I
then made, but whom I afterward came to know, respect, and admire
even more during the Peace Conference at The Hague--Sir Julian,
afterward Lord, Pauncefote. His wise counsels prevailed; Lord
Salisbury receded from his position; Great Britain agreed to
arbitration; and the question entered into a new stage, which was
finally ended by the award of the Arbitration Tribunal at Paris,
presided over by M. de Martens of St. Petersburg, and having on
its bench the chief justices of the two nations and two of the
most eminent judges of their highest courts. It is with pride and
satisfaction that I find their award agreeing, substantially,
with the line which, after so much trouble, our own commission
had worked out. Arbitration having been decided upon, our
commission refrained from laying down a frontier-line, but
reported a mass of material, some fourteen volumes in all, with
an atlas containing about seventy-five maps, all of which formed
a most valuable contribution to the material laid before the
Court of Arbitration at Paris.

It was a happy solution of the whole question, and it was a
triumph of American diplomacy in the cause of right and justice.

I may mention, in passing, one little matter which throws light
upon a certain disgraceful system to which I have had occasion to
refer at various other times in these memoirs; and I do so now in
the hope of keeping people thinking upon one of the most wretched
abuses in the United States. I have said above that we were, of
course, obliged to maintain the strictest secrecy. To have
allowed our conclusions to get out would have thwarted the whole
purpose of the investigation; but a person who claimed to
represent one of the leading presses in Washington seemed to
think that consideration of no special importance, and came to
our rooms, virtually insisting on receiving information. Having
been told that it could not be given him, he took his revenge by
inserting a sensational paragraph in the papers regarding the
extravagance of the commission. He informed the world that we
were expending large sums of public money in costly furniture, in
rich carpets, and especially in splendid silverware. The fact was
that the rooms were furnished very simply, with plain office
furniture, with cheap carpets, and with a safe for locking up the
more precious documents intrusted to us and such papers as it was
important to keep secret. The "silverware" consisted of two very
plain plated jugs for ice-water; and I may add that after our
adjournment the furniture was so wisely sold that very nearly the
whole expenditure for it was returned into the treasury.

These details would be utterly trivial were it not that, with
others which I have given in other places, they indicate that
prostitution of the press to sensation-mongering which the
American people should realize and reprove.

While I have not gone into minor details of our work, I have
thought that thus much might be interesting. Of course, had these
reminiscences been written earlier, this sketch of the interior
history of the commission would have been omitted; but now, the
award of the Paris tribunal having been made, there is no reason
why secrecy should be longer maintained. Never, before that
award, did any of us, I am sure, indicate to any person what our
view as to the line between the possessions of Venezuela and
Great Britain was; but now we may do so, and I feel that all
concerned may be congratulated on the fact that two tribunals,
each seeking to do justice, united on the same line, and that
line virtually the same which one of the most just of British
statesmen had approved many years before.

During this Venezuela work in Washington I made acquaintance with
many leading men in politics; and among those who interested me
most was Mr. Carlisle of Kentucky, Secretary of the Treasury. He
had been member of Congress, Speaker of the House of
Representatives, and senator, and was justly respected and
admired. Perhaps the most peculiar tribute that I ever heard paid
to a public man was given him once in the House of
Representatives by my friend Mr. Hiscock, then representative,
and afterward senator, from the State of New York. Seated by his
side in the House, and noting the rulings of Mr. Carlisle as
Speaker, I asked, "What sort of man is this Speaker of yours?"
Mr. Hiscock answered, "As you know, he is one of the strongest of
Democrats, and I am one of the strongest of Republicans; yet I
will say this: that my imagination is not strong enough to
conceive of his making an unfair ruling or doing an unfair thing
against the party opposed to him in this House."

Mr. Carlisle's talents were of a very high order. His speeches
carried great weight; and in the campaign which came on later
between Mr. McKinley and Mr. Bryan, he, in my opinion, and indeed
in the opinion, I think, of every leading public man, did a most
honorable thing when he deliberately broke from his party,
sacrificed, apparently, all hopes of political preferment, and
opposed the regular Democratic candidate. His speech before the
working-men of Chicago on the issues of that period was certainly
one of the two most important delivered during the first McKinley
campaign, the other being that of Carl Schurz.

Another man whom I saw from time to time during this period was
the Vice-President, Mr. Stevenson. I first met him at a public
dinner in New York, where we sat side by side; but we merely
talked on generalities. But the next time I met him was at a
dinner given by the Secretary of War, and there I found that he
was one of the most admirable raconteurs I had ever met. After a
series of admirable stories, one of the party said to me: "He
could tell just as good stories as those for three weeks running
and never repeat himself."

One of these stories by the Vice-President, if true, threw a
curious light over the relations of President Lincoln with three
men very distinguished in American annals. It was as follows: One
day, shortly before the issue of the Emancipation Proclamation, a
visitor, finding Mr. Lincoln evidently in melancholy mood, said
to him, "Mr. President, I am sorry to find you not feeling so
well as at my last visit." Mr. Lincoln replied: "Yes, I am
troubled. One day the best of our friends from the border States
come in and insist that I shall not issue an Emancipation
Proclamation, and that, if I do so, the border States will
virtually cast in their lot with the Southern Confederacy.
Another day, Charles Sumner, Thad Stevens, and Ben Wade come in
and insist that if I do not issue such a proclamation the North
will be utterly discouraged and the Union wrecked,--and, by the
way, these three men are coming in this very afternoon." At this
moment his expression changed, his countenance lighted up, and he
said to the visitor, who was from the West, "Mr. ----, did you
ever go to a prairie school?" "No," said the visitor, "I never
did." "Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "I did, and it was a very poor
school, and we were very poor folks,--too poor to have regular
reading-books, and so we brought our Bibles and read from them.
One morning the chapter was from the Book of Daniel, and a little
boy who sat next me went all wrong in pronouncing the names of
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The teacher had great difficulty
in setting him right, and before he succeeded was obliged to
scold the boy and cuff him for his stupidity. The nest verse came
to me, and so the chapter went along down the class. Presently it
started on its way back, and soon after I noticed that the little
fellow began crying. On this I asked him, 'What's the matter with
you?' and he answered, 'Don't you see? Them three miserable
cusses are coming back to me again.'"

I also at that period made the acquaintance of Senator Gray of
Delaware, who seemed to me ideally fitted for his position as a
member of the Upper House in Congress. Speaker Reed also made a
great impression upon me as a man of honesty, lucidity, and
force. The Secretary of State, Mr. Olney, I saw frequently, and
was always impressed by the sort of bulldog tenacity which had
gained his victory over Lord Salisbury in the arbitration matter.

But to give even the most hasty sketch of the members of the
Supreme Court, the cabinet, and of both houses of Congress whom I
met would require more time than is at my disposal.

This stay in Washington I enjoyed much. Our capital city is
becoming the seat of a refined hospitality which makes it more
and more attractive. Time was, and that not very long since, when
it was looked upon as a place of exile by diplomatists, and as
repulsive by many of our citizens; but all that is of the past:
the courtesy shown by its inhabitants is rapidly changing its
reputation.

Perhaps, of all the social enjoyments of that time, the most
attractive to me was an excursion of the American Geographical
Society to Monticello, the final residence of President
Jefferson. Years before, while visiting the University of
Virginia at Charlottesville, I had been intensely interested in
that creation of Mr. Jefferson and in the surroundings of his
home; but the present occupant of Monticello, having been greatly
annoyed by visitors, was understood to be reluctant to allow any
stranger to enter the mansion, and I would not intrude upon him.
But now house and grounds were freely thrown open, and upon a
delightful day. The house itself was a beautiful adaptation of
the architecture which had reached its best development at the
time of Jefferson's stay in France; and the decorations, like
those which I had noted years before in some of the rooms of the
university, were of an exquisite Louis Seize character.

Jefferson's peculiarities, also, came out in various parts of the
house. Perhaps the most singular was his bed, occupying the whole
space of an archway between two rooms, one of which, on the left,
served as a dressing-room for him, and the other, on the right,
for Mrs. Jefferson; and, there being no communication between
them save by a long circuit through various rooms, it was evident
that the ex-President had made up his mind that he would not have
his intimate belongings interfered with by any of the women of
the household, not even by his wife.

But most attractive of all was the view through the valleys and
over the neighboring hills as we sat at our picnic-tables on the
lawn. Having read with care every line of Jefferson's letters
ever published, and some writings of his which have never been
printed, my imagination was vivid. It enabled me to see him
walking through the rooms and over the estate, receiving
distinguished guests under the portico, discussing with them at
his dinner-table the great questions of the day, and promulgating
his theories, some of which were so beneficent and others so
noxious.

The only sad part of this visit was to note the destruction, by
the fire not long before, of the columns in front of the rotunda
of the university. I especially mourned over the calcined remains
of their capitals, for into these Jefferson had really wrought
his own heart. With a passion for the modern adaptation of
classic architecture, he had poured the very essence of his
artistic feelings into them. He longed to see every stroke which
his foreign sculptors made upon them. Daily, according to the
chronicle of the time, he rode over to see how they progressed,
and, between his visits, frequently observed them through his
telescope; and now all their work was but calcined limestone.
Fortunately, the burning of the old historical buildings aroused
public spirit; large sums of money were poured into the
university treasury; and the work was in process which, it is to
be hoped, will restore the former beauty of the colonnade and
largely increase the buildings and resources of the institution.

During my work upon the commission I learned to respect more and
more the calm, steady, imperturbable character of Mr. Cleveland.
Of course the sensational press howled continually, and the press
which was considered especially enlightened and which had
steadily supported him up to this period, was hardly less bitter;
but he persevered. During the period taken by the commission for
its work, both the American and British peoples had time for calm
thought. Lord Salisbury, especially, had time to think better of
it; and when he at last receded from his former haughty position
and accepted arbitration, Mr. Cleveland and the State Department
gained one of the most honorable victories in the history of
American diplomacy.



CHAPTER XL

AS AMBASSADOR TO GERMANY--1897-1903

On the 1st of April, 1897, President McKinley nominated me
ambassador to Berlin; and, the appointment having been duly
confirmed by the Senate, I visited Washington to obtain
instructions and make preparations. One of the most important of
these preparations was the securing of a second secretary for the
embassy. A long list of applicants for this position had
appeared, several with strong backing from party magnates,
cabinet officers, and senators; but, though all of them seemed
excellent young men, very few had as yet any experience likely to
be serviceable, and a look over the list suggested many
misgivings. There was especially needed just then at Berlin a
second secretary prepared to aid in disentangling sundry
important questions already before the embassy. The first
secretary, whom no person thought of displacing, was ideally
fitted for his place--in fact, was fitted for any post in the
diplomatic service; but a second secretary was needed to take, as
an expert, a mass of work on questions relating to commerce and
manufactures which were just then arising between the two nations
in shapes new and even threatening.

While the whole matter was under advisement, there appeared a
young man from Ohio, with no backing of any sort save his record.
He had distinguished himself at one of our universities as a
student in political economy and international law; had then
taken a fellowship in the same field at another university; and
had finally gone to Germany and there taken his degree, his
graduating thesis being on "The Commercial and Diplomatic
Relations between the United States and Germany." In preparing
this he had been allowed to work up a mass of material in our
embassy archives, and had afterward expanded his thesis into a
book which had gained him credit. As the most serious questions
between the two countries were commercial, he seemed a godsend;
and, going to the President, I stated the matter fully. Though
the young man was as far as possible from having any "pull" in
the State from which he came, was not at all known either to the
President or the Secretary of State or assistant secretary of
state, all of whom came from Ohio, and was equally unknown to
either of the Ohio senators or to any representative, and though
nothing whatever was known of his party affiliations, the
President, on hearing a statement of the case, ignored all
pressure in favor of rival candidates, sent in his nomination to
the Senate, and it was duly confirmed.

The next thing was the appointment of a military attache. The
position is by no means a sinecure. Our government must always
feel the importance of receiving the latest information as to the
armies and navies of the great powers of the world; and therefore
it is that, very wisely, it has attached military and naval
experts to various leading embassies. It is important that these
be not only thoroughly instructed and far-seeing, but gentlemen
in the truest sense of the word; and I therefore presented a
graduate of West Point who, having conducted an expedition in
Alaska and served with his regiment on the Western plains most
creditably, had done duty as military attache with me during my
mission at St. Petersburg, and had proved himself, in every
respect, admirable. Though he had no other supporter at the
national capital, the Secretary of War, Governor Alger, granted
my request, and he was appointed.

These matters, to many people apparently trivial, are here
alluded to because it is so often charged that political
considerations outweigh all others in such appointments, and
because this charge was frequently made against President
McKinley. The simple fact is that, with the multitude of
nominations to be made, the appointing power cannot have personal
knowledge of the applicants, and must ask the advice of persons
who have known them and can, to some extent, be held responsible
for them. In both the cases above referred to, political pressure
of the strongest in favor of other candidates went for nothing
against the ascertained interest of the public service.

The Secretary of State at this time was Mr. John Sherman. I had
known him somewhat during his career as senator and Secretary of
the Treasury, and had for his character, abilities, and services
the most profound respect. I now saw him often. He had become
somewhat infirm, but his mind seemed still clear; whether at the
State Department or in social circles his reminiscences of public
men and affairs were always interesting, and one of these
confirmed an opinion I have expressed in another chapter. One
night, at a dinner-party, the discussion having fallen upon
President Andrew Johnson, and some slighting remarks having been
made regarding him by one of our company, Mr. Sherman, who had
been one of President Johnson's strongest opponents, declared him
a man of patriotic motives as well as of great ability, and
insisted that the Republican party had made a great mistake in
attempting to impeach him. In the course of the conversation one
of the foremost members of the House of Representatives, a man of
the highest standing and character, stated that he had himself,
when a young man, aided Mr. Johnson as secretary, and that he was
convinced that the ex-President could write very little more than
his signature. We had all heard the old story that after he had
become of age his newly wedded wife had taught him the alphabet,
but it was known to very few that he remained to the last so
imperfectly equipped.

Of conversations with many other leading men of that period at
Washington I remember that, at the house of my friend Dr. Hill,
afterward assistant secretary of state, mention being made of the
Blaine campaign, an eminent justice of the Supreme Court said
that Mr. Blaine always insisted to the end of his life that he
had lost the Presidency on account of the Rev. Dr. Burchard's
famous alliteration, "Rum, Romanism, and rebellion," and that the
whole was really a Democratic trick. Neither the judge nor any
other person present believed that Mr. Blaine's opinion in this
matter was well founded.

An important part of my business during this visit was to confer
with the proper persons at Washington, including the German
ambassador, Baron von Thielmann, regarding sundry troublesome
questions between the United States and Germany. The addition to
the American tariff of a duty against the sugar imports from
every other country equivalent to the sugar bounty allowed
manufactures in that country had led to special difficulties. It
had been claimed by Germany that this additional duty was
contrary to the most-favored-nation clause in our treaties; and,
unfortunately, the decisions on our side had been conflicting,
Mr. Gresham, Secretary of State under Mr. Cleveland, having
allowed that the German contention was right, and his successor,
Mr. Olney, having presented an elaborate argument to show that it
was wrong. On this point, conversations, not only with the
Secretary of State and the German ambassador, but with leading
members of the committees of Congress having the tariff in
charge, and especially with Mr. Allison and Mr. Aldrich of the
Senate and Governor Dingley of the House, showed me that the case
was complicated, the various interests somewhat excited against
each other, and that my work in dealing with them was to be
trying.

There were also several other questions no less difficult, those
relating to the exportation of American products to Germany and
the troubles already brewing in Samoa being especially prominent;
so that it was with anything but an easy feeling that, on the
29th of May, I sailed from New York.

On the 12th of June I presented the President's letter of
credence to the Emperor William II. The more important of my new
relations to the sovereign had given me no misgivings; for during
my stay in Berlin as minister, eighteen years before, I had found
him very courteous, he being then the heir apparent; but with the
ceremonial part it was otherwise, and to that I looked forward
almost with dismay.

For, since my stay in Berlin, the legation had been raised to an
embassy. It had been justly thought by various patriotic members
of Congress that it was incompatible, either with the dignity or
the interests of so great a nation as ours, to be represented
simply by a minister plenipotentiary, who, when calling at the
Foreign Office to transact business, might be obliged to wait for
hours, and even until the next day, while representatives from
much less important countries who ranked as ambassadors went in
at once. The change was good, but in making it Congress took no
thought of some things which ought to have been provided for. Of
these I shall speak later; but as regards the presentation, the
trying feature to me was that there was a great difference
between this and any ceremonial which I had previously
experienced, whether as commissioner at Santo Domingo and Paris,
or as minister at Berlin and St. Petersburg. At the presentation
of a minister plenipotentiary he goes in his own carriage to the
palace at the time appointed; is ushered into the presence of the
sovereign; delivers to him, with some simple speech, the
autograph letter from the President; and then, after a kindly
answer, all is finished. But an ambassador does not escape so
easily. Under a fiction of international law he is regarded as
the direct representative of the sovereign power of his country,
and is treated in some sense as such. Therefore it was that, at
the time appointed, a high personage of the court, in full
uniform, appeared at my hotel accompanied by various other
functionaries, with three court carriages, attendants, and
outriders, deputed to conduct me to the palace. Having been
escorted to the first of the carriages,--myself, in plain
citizen's dress, on the back seat; my escort, in gorgeous
uniform, facing me; and my secretaries and attaches in the other
carriages,--we took up our march in solemn procession--carriages,
outriders, and all--through the Wilhelmstrasse and Unter den
Linden. On either side was a gaping crowd; at the various corps
de garde bodies of troops came out and presented arms; and on our
arrival at the palace there was a presentation of arms and
beating of drums which, for the moment, somewhat abashed me. It
was an ordeal more picturesque than agreeable.

The reception by the Emperor was simple, courteous, and kindly.
Neither of us made any set speech, but we discussed various
questions, making reference to our former meeting and the changes
which had occurred since. Among these changes I referred to the
great improvement in Berlin, whereupon he said that he could not
think the enormous growth of modern cities an advantage. My
answer was that my reference was to the happy change in the
architecture of Berlin rather than to its growth in population;
that, during my first stay in the city, over forty years before,
nearly all the main buildings were of brick and stucco, whereas
there had now been a remarkable change from stucco to stone and
to a much nobler style of architecture. We also discussed the
standing of Germans in America and their relations to the United
States. On my remarking that it was just eighteen years and one
day since the first Emperor William had received me as minister
in that same palace, he spoke of various things in the history of
the intervening years; and then ensued an episode such as I had
hardly expected. For just before leaving New York my old friend
Frederick William Holls, after a dinner at his house on the
Hudson, had given his guests examples of the music written by
Frederick the Great, and one piece had especially interested us.
It was a duet in which Mr. Holls played one part upon the organ,
and his wife another upon the piano; and all of us were greatly
impressed by the dignity and beauty of the whole. It had been
brought to light and published by the present Emperor, and after
the performance some one of the party remarked, in a jocose way,
"You should express our thanks to his Majesty, when you meet him,
for the pleasure which this music has given us." I thought
nothing more of the subject until, just at the close of the
conversation above referred to, it came into my mind; and on my
mentioning it the Emperor showed at once a special interest,
discussing the music from various points of view; and on my
telling him that we were all surprised that it was not
amateurish, but really profound in its harmonies and beautiful in
its melodies, he dwelt upon the musical debt of Frederick the
Great to Bach and the special influence of Bach upon him. This
conversation recurred to me later, when the Emperor, in erecting
the statue to Frederick the Great on the Avenue of Victory,
placed on one side of it the bust of Marshal Schwerin, and on the
other that of Johann Sebastian Bach, thus honoring the two men
whom he considered most important during Frederick's reign.

After presenting my embassy secretaries and attaches, military
and naval, I was conducted with them into the presence of the
Empress, who won all our hearts by her kindly, unaffected
greeting. On my recalling her entrance into Berlin as a bride, in
her great glass coach, seventeen years before, on one of the
coldest days I ever knew, she gave amusing details of her stately
progress down the Linden on that occasion; and in response to my
congratulations upon her six fine boys and her really charming
little daughter, it was pleasant to see how

 "One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,"

her eyes lighting up with pride and joy, and her conversation
gladly turning to the children.

It may be added here that the present Empress seems to have
broken the unfortunate spell which for about half a century hung
over the queens and empresses of the house of Hohenzollern. I
remember well that, among the Germans whom I knew in my
Berlin-University days, all the sins of the period, political and
religious, seemed to be traced to the influence of Queen
Elizabeth, the consort of the reigning King Frederick William IV;
and that, during my first official stay in the same capital as
minister, a similar feeling was shown toward the Empress Augusta,
in spite of her most kindly qualities and her devotion to every
sort of charitable work; and that the crown princess, afterward
the Empress Frederick, in spite of all her endowments of head and
heart, was apparently more unpopular than either of her two
predecessors. But the present Empress seems to have changed all
this, and, doubtless, mainly by her devotion to her husband and
her children, which apparently excludes from her mind all care
for the great problems of the universe outside her family. So
strong is this feeling of kindness toward her that it was comical
to see, at one period during my stay, when she had been brought
perilously near a most unpopular course of action, that everybody
turned at once upon her agent in the matter, saying nothing about
her, but belaboring him unmercifully, though he was one of the
most attractive of men.

These presentations being finished, our return to the Kaiserhof
Hotel was made with the same ceremony as that with which we had
come to the palace, and happy was I when all was over.

Of the other official visits at this time, foremost in importance
was that to the chancellor of the empire, Prince Hohenlohe.
Although he was then nearly eighty years old and bent with age,
his mind in discussing public matters was entirely clear. Various
later conversations with him also come back to me--one,
especially, at a dinner he gave at the chancellor's palace to
President Harrison. On my recalling the fact that we were in the
room where I had first dined with Bismarck, Prince Hohenlohe gave
a series of reminiscences of his great predecessor, some of them
throwing a strong light upon his ideas and methods. On one
occasion, at my own table, he spoke very thoughtfully on German
characteristics, and one of his remarks surprised me: it was that
the besetting sin of the Germans is envy (Neid); in which remark
one may see a curious tribute to the tenacity of the race, since
Tacitus justified a similar opinion. He seemed rather melancholy;
but he had a way of saying pungent things very effectively, and
one of these attributed to him became widely known. He was
publicly advocating a hotly contested canal bill, when an
opponent said, "You will find a solid rock in the way of this
measure"; to which the chancellor rejoined, "We will then do with
the rock as Moses did: we will smite it and get water for our
canal."

As to the next visit of importance, I was especially glad to find
at the Foreign Office the newly appointed minister, Baron (now
Count) von Bulow. During the first part of my former stay, as
minister, I had done business at the Foreign Office with his
father, and found him in every respect a most congenial
representative of the German Government. It now appeared that
father and son were amazingly like each other, not only in
personal manner, but in their mode of dealing with public
affairs. With the multitude of trying questions which pressed
upon me as ambassador during nearly six years, it hardly seems
possible that I should be still alive were it not for the genial,
hearty intercourse, at the Foreign Office and elsewhere, with
Count von Bulow. Sundry German papers, indeed, attacked him as
yielding to much to me, and sundry American papers attacked me
for yielding too much to him; but both of us exerted ourselves to
do the best possible, each for his own country, and at the same
time to preserve peace and increase good feeling.

Interesting was it to me, from my first to my last days in
Berlin, to watch him in the discharge of his great duties,
especially in his dealings with hostile forces in Parliament. No
contrast could be more marked than that between his manner and
that of his great predecessor, the iron chancellor. To begin
with, no personalities could be more unlike. In the place of an
old man, big, rumbling, heavy, fiery, minatory, objurgatory,
there now stood a young man, quiet, self-possessed, easy in
speech, friendly in manner, "sweet reasonableness" apparently his
main characteristic, bubbling at times with humor, quick to turn
a laugh on a hostile bungler, but never cruel; prompt in
returning a serious thrust, but never venomous. Many of his
speeches were masterpieces in their way of handling opponents. An
attack which Bismarck would have met with a bludgeon, Bulow
parried with weapons infinitely lighter, but in some cases really
more effective. A very good example was on an occasion when the
old charge of "Byzantinism" was flung at the present regime, to
which he replied, not by a historical excursus or political
disquisition, but by humorously deprecating a comparison of the
good, kindly, steady-going, hard-working old privy councilors and
other state officials of Berlin with fanatics, conspirators, and
assassins who played leading parts at Constantinople during the
decline of the Eastern Empire. In the most stormy discussions I
never saw him other than serene; under real provocation he
remained kindly; more than one bitter opponent he disarmed with a
retort; but there were no poisoned wounds. The German Parliament,
left to itself, can hardly be a peaceful body. The lines of
cleavage between parties are many, and some of them are old
chasms of racial dislike and abysses of religious and social
hate; but the appearance of the young chancellor at his desk
seemed, even on the darkest days, to bring sunshine.

Occasionally, during my walks in the Thiergarten, I met him on
his way to Parliament; and, no matter how pressing public
business might be, he found time to extend his walk and prolong
our discussions. On one of these walks I alluded to a hot debate
of the day before and to his suavity under provocation, when he
answered: "Old ----, many years ago, gave me two counsels, and I
have always tried to mind them. These were: 'Never worry; never
lose your temper.'"

A pet phrase among his critics is that he is a diplomatist and
not a statesman. Like so many antitheses, this is misleading. It
may be just to say that his methods are, in general, those of a
diplomatist rather than of a statesman; but certain it is that in
various debates of my time he showed high statesmanlike
qualities, and notably at the beginning of the war with China and
in sundry later contests with the agrarians and socialists. Even
his much criticized remark during the imbroglio between Turkey
and Greece, picturing Germany as laying down her flute and
retiring from the "European Concert," which to many seemed mere
persiflage, was the humorous presentation of a policy dictated by
statesmanship. Nor were all his addresses merely light and
humorous; at times, when some deep sentiment had been stirred, he
was eloquent, rising to the height of great arguments and taking
broad views.

No one claims that he is a Richelieu, a William Pitt, or a
Cavour; but the work of such men is not what the German Empire
just now requires. The man needed at present is the one who can
keep things GOING, who can minimize differences, resist
extremists, turn aside marplots, soothe doctrinaires, and thus
give the good germs in the empire a chance to grow. For this work
it would be hard to imagine a better man than the present
chancellor. His selection and retention by the Emperor prove that
the present monarch has inherited two of the best qualities of
his illustrious grandfather: skill in recognizing the right man
and firmness in standing by him.

The next thing which an ambassador is expected to do, after
visiting the great representatives of the empire, is to become
acquainted with the official world in general.

But he must make acquaintance with these under his own roof. On
his arrival he is expected to visit the Emperor and the princes
of his family, the imperial chancellor, and the minister of
foreign affairs, but all others are expected to visit him; hence
the most pressing duty on my arrival was to secure a house, and,
during three months following, all the time that I could possibly
spare, and much that I ought not to have spared, was given to
excursions into all parts of the city to find it. No house, no
ambassador. A minister plenipotentiary can live during his first
year in a hotel or in a very modest apartment; an ambassador
cannot. He must have a spacious house fully furnished before he
can really begin his duties; for, as above stated, one of the
first of these duties is to make the acquaintance of the official
world,--the ministers of the crown, the diplomatic corps, the
members of the Imperial Parliament, the members of the Prussian
legislature, the foremost men in the army and navy, and the
leaders in public life generally,--and to this end he must give
three very large receptions, at which all those personages visit
him. This is a matter of which the court itself takes charge, so
far as inviting and presenting the guests is concerned, high
court officials being sent to stand by the side of the ambassador
and ambassadress and make the introductions to them; but, as
preliminary to all this, the first thing is to secure a residence
fit for such receptions and for entertainments in connection with
them.

Under the rules of European nations generally, these receptions
must be held at the ambassador's permanent residence; but,
unfortunately, such a thing as a large furnished apartment
suitable for a foreign representative is rarely to be found in
Berlin. In London and Paris such apartments are frequently
offered, but in Berlin hardly ever. Every other nation which
sends an ambassador to Berlin--and the same is true as regards
the other large capitals of Europe--owns a suitable house, or at
least holds a long lease of a commodious apartment; but, although
President Cleveland especially recommended provision for such
residence in one of his messages, nothing has yet been done by
the American Congress, and the consequence is that every
ambassador has to lose a great amount of valuable time, effort,
and money in securing proper quarters, while his country loses
much of its proper prestige and dignity by constant changes in
the location of its embassy, and by the fact that the American
representative is not infrequently obliged to take up his
residence in unfit apartments and in an unsuitable part of the
town.

After looking at dozens of houses, the choice was narrowed down
to two; but, as one was nearly three miles from the center of the
city, selection was made of the large apartment which I occupied
during nearly four years, and which was bought from under my feet
by one of the smallest governments in Europe as the residence for
its minister. Immediately after my lease was signed there began a
new series of troubles. Everything must be ready for the three
receptions by the eighth day of January; and, being at the mercy
of my landlord, I was at a great disadvantage. Though paying
large rent for the apartment, I was obliged, at my own expense,
to put it thoroughly in order, introducing electric light,
perfecting heating apparatus, getting walls and floors in order,
and doing a world of work which, under other circumstances, would
have been done by the proprietor himself. As to furnishing, a
peculiar difficulty arose. Berlin furnishers, as a rule, have
only samples in stock, and a long time is required for completing
sets. My former experience, when, as minister, I had been obliged
to go through a similar ordeal, had shown me that the Berlin
makers could never be relied upon to get the apartment furnished
in time; and therefore it was that, having secured what was
possible in Berlin, I was obliged to make large purchases at
Dresden, London, and Paris, and to have the furniture from the
last-named city hurried on to Berlin in special wadded cars, with
attendants to put it in place. It was a labor and care to which
no representative of the United States or of any other power
ought to be subjected. The vexations and difficulties seemed
unending; but at last carpenters, paper-hangers, electric-light
men, furniture men, carpet-layers, upholsterers, and the like
were driven from the house just five minutes before the
chancellor of the empire arrived to open the first of these three
official receptions. Happily they all went off well, and thereby
began my acquaintance with the leaders in various departments of
official life.

On my settling down to the business of the embassy, it appeared
that the changes in public sentiment since my former stay as
minister, eighteen years before, were great indeed. At that time
German feeling was decidedly friendly to the United States. The
Germans had sided with us in our Civil War, and we had come out
victorious; we had sided with them in their war of 1870-1871, and
they had come out victorious. But all this was now changed.
German feeling toward us had become generally adverse and, in
some parts of the empire, bitterly hostile. The main cause of
this was doubtless our protective policy. Our McKinley tariff,
which was considered almost ruinous to German manufactures, had
been succeeded by the Dingley tariff, which went still further;
and as Germany, in the last forty years, had developed an amazing
growth of manufactures, much bitterness resulted.

Besides this, our country was enabled, by its vast extent of
arable land, as well as by its cheap conveyance and skilful
handling of freights, to sweep into the German markets
agricultural products of various sorts, especially meats, and to
undersell the native German producers. This naturally vexed the
landed proprietors, so that we finally had against us two of the
great influential classes in the empire: the manufacturers and
the landowners.

But this was not all. These real difficulties were greatly
increased by fictitious causes of ill feeling. Sensational
articles, letters, telegrams, caricatures, and the like, sent
from America to Germany and from Germany to America, had become
more and more exasperating, until, at the time of my arrival,
there were in all Germany but two newspapers of real importance
friendly to the United States. These two journals courageously
stood up for fairness and justice, but all the others were more
or less hostile, and some bitterly so. The one which, on account
of its zeal in securing news, I read every morning was of the
worst. During the Spanish War it was especially virulent, being
full of statements and arguments to show that corruption was the
main characteristic of our government, cowardice of our army and
navy, and hypocrisy of our people. Very edifying were its
quasi-philosophical articles; and one of these, showing the
superiority of the Spanish women to their American sisters,
especially as regards education, was a work of genius. The love
of Spanish women for bull-fights was neatly glossed over, and
various absurd charges against American women were put in the
balance against it. A few sensational presses on our side were
perhaps worse. Various newspapers in America repaid Teutonic
hostility by copious insults directed at everything German, and
this aroused the Germans yet more. One journal, very influential
among the aristocratic and religious public of Northern Germany,
regularly published letters of considerable literary merit from
its American correspondent, in which every scandal which could be
raked out of the gutters of the cities, every crime in the
remotest villages, and all follies of individuals everywhere,
were kneaded together into statements showing that our country
was the lowest in the scale of human civilization. The tu-quoque
argument might have been used by an American with much effect;
for just about this period there were dragging along, in the
Berlin and other city journals, accounts of German trials for
fraud and worse, surpassing, in some respects, anything within my
memory of American tribunals. The quantity of fig-leaves required
in some of these trials was enormous; and, despite all
precautions, some details which escaped into the press might well
bring a blush to the most hardened American offender. It was both
vexatious and comical to see the smug, Pharisaical way in which
many journals ignored all these things, and held up their hands
in horror at American shortcomings. Some trials, too, which at
various times revealed the brutality of sundry military officers
toward soldiers, were heartrending; and especially one or two
duels, which occurred during my stay, presented features
calculated to shock the toughest American rough-rider. But all
this seemed not for a moment to withdraw the attention of our
Teutonic censors from American folly and wickedness. One of the
main charges constantly made was that in America there was a
"Deutschen Hetze." Very many German papers had really persuaded
themselves, and apparently had convinced a large part of the
German people, that throughout our country there existed a hate,
deep and acrid, of everything German and especially of
German-Americans. The ingenuity of some German papers in
supporting this thesis was wonderful. On one occasion a petty
squabble in a Roman Catholic theological school in the United
States between the more liberal element and a reactionary German
priest, in which the latter came to grief, was displayed as an
evidence that the American people were determined to drive out
all German professors and to abjure German science. The doings of
every scapegrace in an American university, of every silly woman
in Chicago, of every blackguard in New York, of every snob at
Newport, of every desperado in the Rocky Mountains, of every club
loafer anywhere, were served up as typical examples of American
life. The municipal governments of our country, and especially
that of New York, were an exhaustless quarry from which specimens
of every kind of scoundrelism were drawn and used in building up
an ideal structure of American life; corruption, lawlessness, and
barbarism being its most salient features.

Nor was this confined to the more ignorant. Men who stood high in
the universities, men of the greatest amiability, who in former
days had been the warmest friends of America, had now become our
bitter opponents, and some of their expressions seemed to point
to eventual war.

Yet I doubt whether we have any right to complain of such attacks
and misrepresentations. As a matter of fact, no nation washes so
much of its dirty linen in the face of the whole world as does
our own; and, what is worse, there is washed in our country, with
much noise and perversity, a great deal of linen which is not
dirty. Many demagogues and some "reformers" are always doing
this. There is in America a certain class of excellent people who
see nothing but the scum on the surface of the pot; nothing but
the worst things thrown to the surface in the ebullition of
American life. Or they may be compared to people who, with a
Persian carpet before them, persist in looking at its seamy side,
and finding nothing but odds and ends, imperfect joints,
unsatisfactory combinations of color; the real pattern entirely
escaping them. The shrill utterances of such men rise above the
low hum of steady good work, and are taken in Germany as exact
statements of the main facts in our national life.

Let me repeat here one example which I have given more than once
elsewhere. Several years since, an effort was made to impeach the
President of the United States. The current was strong, and most
party leaders thought it best to go with it. Three senators of
the United States sturdily refused, their leader being William
Pitt Fessenden of Maine, who, believing the impeachment an
attempt to introduce Spanish-American politics into our country,
resolutely opposed it. The State convention of his party called
upon him to vote for it, the national convention of the party
took the same ground, his relatives and friends besought him to
yield, but he stood firmly against the measure, and finally, by
his example and his vote, defeated it. It was an example of
Spartan fortitude, of Roman heroism, worthy to be chronicled by
Plutarch. How was it chronicled? I happened to be traveling in
Germany at the time, and naturally watched closely for the result
of the impeachment proceedings. One morning I took up a German
paper containing the news and read, "The impeachment has been
defeated; three senators were bribed," and at the head of the
list of bribed senators was the name of Fessenden! The time will
come when his statue will commemorate his great example; let us
hope that the time will also come when party spirit will not be
allowed to disgrace our country by sending out to the world such
monstrous calumnies.

As to attacks upon the United States, it is only fair to say that
German publicists and newspaper writers were under much
provocation. Some of the American correspondents then in Germany
showed wonderful skill in malignant invention. My predecessors in
the embassy had suffered much from this cause. One of them, whom
I had known from his young manhood as a gentleman of refined
tastes and quiet habits, utterly incapable of rudeness of any
sort, was accused, in a sensational letter published in various
American journals, of having become so noisy and boisterous at
court that the Emperor was obliged to rebuke him. Various hints
of a foul and scandalous character were sent over and published.
I escaped more easily, but there were two or three examples which
were both vexatious and amusing.

Shortly after my arrival at my post, letters and newspaper
articles began coming deploring the conduct of the Germans toward
me, expressing deep sympathy with me, exhorting me to "stand
firm," declaring that the American people were behind me, etc.,
etc., all of which puzzled me greatly until I found that some
correspondent had sent over a telegram to the effect that the
feeling against America had become so bitter that the Emperor
himself had been obliged to intervene and command the officials
of his empire to present themselves at my official reception; and
with this statement was coupled a declaration that I had made the
most earnest remonstrance to the Imperial Government against such
treatment. The simple fact was that the notice was in the
stereotyped form always used when an ambassador arrives. On every
such occasion the proper authorities notify all the persons
concerned, giving the time of his receptions, and this was simply
what was done in my case. On another occasion, telegrams were
sent over to American papers stating that the first secretary of
the embassy and myself, on visiting Parliament to hear an
important debate, had been grossly insulted by various members.
The fact was that we had been received by everybody with the
utmost kindness; that various members had saluted us in the most
friendly manner from the floor or had come into the diplomatic
gallery to welcome us; and that there was not the slightest
shadow of reason for the statement. As an example of the genius
shown in some of these telegrams, another may be mentioned. A
very charming American lady, niece of a member of Mr. McKinley's
cabinet, having arrived on the Norwegian coast, her children were
taken on board the yacht of the Emperor, who was then cruising in
those regions; and later, on their arrival at Berlin, they with
their father and mother were asked by him to the palace to meet
his own wife and children. A few days afterward a telegram was
published in America to the effect that the Emperor, in speaking
to Mrs. White and myself regarding the children, had said that he
was especially surprised, because he had always understood that
American children were badly brought up and had very bad manners.
The simple fact was that, while he spoke of the children with
praise, the rest of the story was merely a sensational invention.
One of the marvels of American life is the toleration by decent
fathers and mothers of sensational newspapers in their
households. Of all the demoralizing influences upon our people,
and especially upon our young people, they are the most steadily
and pervasively degrading. Horace Greeley once published a
tractate entitled, "New Themes for the Clergy," and I would
suggest the evil influence of sensation newsmongering as a most
fruitful theme for the exhortations of all American clergymen to
their flocks, whether Catholic, Jewish, or Protestant. May we not
hope, also, that Mr. Pulitzer's new College of Journalism will
give careful attention to this subject?

As to public questions then demanding attention, the first which
I now recall was a bit of international comedy, serving as a
prelude to more important matters, and worth mentioning here only
as showing a misconception very absurd, yet not without dangers.

One morning, as I had just sat down to my office work, there was
ushered in, with due ceremony, a young gentleman of light color,
Parisian to the tips of his fingers,--in accent, manner, and
garb,--who was announced as the charge d'affaires of Haiti. He
was evidently under deep concern, and was soon in the midst of a
somewhat impassioned statement of his business.

It appeared that his government, like so many which had preceded
it, after a joyous career of proclamations, revolutions,
throat-cutting, confiscation, paper money, and loans, public and
private, had at last met a check, and that in this instance the
check had come in the shape of a German frigate which had dropped
into the harbor of Port-au-Prince, run out its guns, and demanded
redress of injuries and payment of debts to Germany and German
subjects; and the charge, after dwelling upon the enormity of
such a demand, pointed out the duty of the United States to
oblige Germany to desist,--in short, to assert the Monroe
Doctrine as he understood it.

The young diplomatist's statement interested me much; it brought
back vividly to my mind the days when, as a commissioner from the
United States, I landed at Port-au-Prince, observed the wreck and
ruin caused by a recent revolution, experienced the beauties of a
paper-money system carried out so logically that a market-basket
full of currency was needed to buy a market-basket full of
vegetables, visited the tombs of the presidents from which the
bodies of their occupants had been torn and scattered, saw the
ring to which President Salnave had recently been tied when the
supporters of his successor had murdered him, and mused over the
ruins of the presidential mansion, which had been torn in pieces
by bombs from a patriotic vessel. My heart naturally warmed
toward the representative of so much glory, and it seemed sad to
quench his oratorical fire and fervor with a cold statement of
fact. But my duty was plain: I assured him that neither the
President whose name the famous "Doctrine" bears, nor the
Secretary of State who devised it, nor the American people behind
them, had any idea of protecting our sister republics in such
conduct as that of which the Germans complained; and I concluded
by fervently exhorting him to advise his government and people
simply to--pay their debts.

It gave me pleasure to learn, somewhat later, that this very
prosaic solution of the difficulty had been adopted.

I make haste to add that nothing which may be said here or
elsewhere in these recollections regarding sundry equatorial
governments has any reference to our sister republics of South
America really worthy of the name. No countries were in my time
more admirably represented at Berlin than the Argentine Republic,
Chile, and Brazil. The first-named sent as its minister the most
eminent living authority on international law; the second, a
gentleman deeply respected for character and ability, whose
household was one of the most beautiful and attractive I have
ever known; and the third, a statesman and scholar worthy of the
best traditions of his country.

As to more complicated international matters with which my
embassy had to deal, the first to assume a virulent form was that
of the Samoan Islands.

During the previous twenty-five years the United States, Germany,
and Great Britain had seemed to develop equal claims in Samoa.
There had been clashes from time to time, in which good sense had
generally prevailed; but in one case a cyclone which destroyed
the German and American vessels of war in the main port of the
islands seemed providential in preventing a worse form of
trouble.

But now the chronic difficulties became acute. In the consuls of
the three powers what Bismarck used to call the furor consularis
was developed to the highest degree. Yet this was not the worst.
Under the Berlin agreement, made some years before, there was a
German president of the municipality of Apia with ill-defined
powers, and an American chief justice with powers in some
respects enormous, and each of these naturally magnified his
office at the expense of the other. To complete the elements of
discord, there were two great native parties, each supporting its
candidate for kingship; and behind these, little spoken of, but
really at the bottom of the main trouble, were
missionaries,--English Wesleyans on one side, and French Roman
Catholics on the other,--each desiring to save the souls of the
natives, no matter at what sacrifice of their bodies.

This tea-pot soon began to boil violently. The old king having
died, the question arose as to the succession. The power of
appointing the successor having been in the most clear and
definite terms bestowed by the treaty upon the chief justice, he
named for the position Malietoa Tanu, a young chieftain who had
been induced to call himself a Protestant; but on the other side
was Mataafa, an old chief who years before had made much trouble,
had been especially obnoxious to the Germans, and had been
banished, but had been recently allowed to return on his taking
oath that he would abstain from all political action, and would
be true to his allegiance to the Malietoan kings. He had been
induced to call himself a Catholic.

But hardly had he returned when, having apparently been absolved
from his oath, he became the leader of a political party and
insisted on his right to the kingship.

The result was a petty civil war which cost many lives. Nor was
this all. A drunken Swiss having one day amused himself by
breaking the windows of the American chief justice's court and no
effective punishment having been administered by the German
president of Apia, the Yankee chief justice took the matter into
his own hands, and this Little Pedlington business set in motion
sensation-mongers throughout the world. They exerted themselves
to persuade the universe that war might, and indeed ought to,
result between the three great nations concerned. On the arrival
of the American Admiral Kautz, he simply and naturally supported
the decree which the chief justice had made, in strict accordance
with the treaty of Berlin, and was finally obliged to fire upon
the insurgents. Now came a newspaper carnival: screams of wrath
from the sensation press of Germany and yells of defiance from
the sensation press of the United States.

It was fortunate, indeed, that at this period the American
Secretary of State was Mr. John Hay and the German minister of
foreign affairs Count von Bulow. Both at Washington and Berlin
the light of plain common sense was gradually let into this
jungle of half truths and whole falsehoods; the appointment of an
excellent special commission, who supplanted all the officials in
the islands by new men, solved various preliminary problems, so
that finally a treaty was made between the three nations
concerned which swept away the old vicious system, partitioned
the islands between the United States and Germany, giving Great
Britain indemnity elsewhere, and settled all the questions
involved, as we may hope, forever.

Among my duties and pleasures during this period was attendance
upon important debates in the Imperial Parliament. That body
presents many features suggestive of thought. The arrangement
under which the Senate, representing the various states of the
empire, and the House, representing the people as a whole, sit
face to face in joint deliberation, strikes an American as
especially curious; but it seems to work well, and has one
advantage in bringing the most eminent servants of the various
states into direct personal relations with the rank and file from
the country at large. The German Parliament has various good
points. Some one has asserted that the United States Senate is as
much better than the British House of Lords as the British House
of Commons is better than the American House of Representatives.
There is much to be said for this contention, and there are some
points in which the German Parliament also struck me as an
improvement upon our Lower House: they do less than we in
committee, and more in the main assemblage; German members are
more attentive to the work in hand, and spread-eagleism and
speeches to the galleries which are tolerated at Washington are
not tolerated at Berlin. On the other hand, the members at
Berlin, not being paid for their services, absent themselves in
such numbers that the lack of a sufficient deliberating body has
been found, at times, a serious evil.

As to men prominent in debate, allusion has already been made to
the chancellor, and various ministers of the crown might be
added, of whom I should give the foremost place to the minister
of the interior, Count Posadowski. His discussions of all matters
touching his department, and, indeed, of some well outside it,
were masterly. Save, perhaps, our own Senator John Sherman, I
have never heard so USEFUL a speaker on fundamental questions of
public business. As to the representatives, there were many well
worth listening to; but the two who attracted most attention were
Richter, the head of the "Progressist," or, as we should call it,
the radical fraction, and Bebel, the main representative of the
Socialists. Richter I had heard more than once in my old days,
and had been impressed by his extensive knowledge of imperial
finance, his wit and humor, his skill in making his points, and
his strength in enforcing them. He was among the few still
remaining after my long absence, and it was clear to me that he
had not deteriorated,--that he had, indeed, mellowed in a way
which made him even more interesting than formerly. As to Bebel,
though generally disappointing at first, he was quite sure, in
every speech, to raise some point which put the conservatives on
their mettle. His strongest characteristic seems to be his
earnestness: the earnestness of a man who has himself known what
the hardest struggle for existence is, and what it means to
suffer for his opinions. His weakest point seems to be a tendency
to exaggeration which provokes distrust; but, despite this, he
has been a potent force as an irritant in drawing attention to
the needs of the working-classes, and so in promoting that steady
uplifting of their condition and prospects which is one of the
most striking achievements of modern Germany.

Among the many other members interesting on various accounts was
one to whom both Germans and Americans might well listen with
respect--Herr Theodor Barth, editor of "Die Nation," a
representative of the best traditions of the old National Liberal
party. He seemed to me one of the very few Germans who really
understood the United States. He had visited America more than
once, and had remained long enough to get in touch with various
leaders of American thought, and to penetrate below the mere
surface of public affairs. Devoted as he was to his own
fatherland, he seemed to feel intuitively the importance to both
countries of accentuating permanent points of agreement rather
than transient points of difference; hence it was that in his
paper he steadily did us justice, and in Parliament was sure to
repel any unmerited assault upon our national character and
policy. He was clear and forcible, with, at times, a most
effectively caustic utterance against unreason.

While the whole parliamentary body is suggestive to an American,
the Parliament building is especially suggestive to a New-Yorker.
This great edifice at Berlin is considerably larger on the ground
than is the State Capitol at Albany. It is built of a very
beautiful and durable stone, and, in spite of sundry criticisms
on the dome in the center and the pavilions at the corners, is
vastly superior, as a whole, to the Albany building. It is
enriched in all parts, without and within, with sculpture
recalling the historical glories of all parts of the empire and
calculated to stir patriotic pride; it is beautified by paintings
on a great scale by eminent artists; its interior fittings, in
stone, marble, steel, bronze, and oak, are as beautiful and
perfect as the art of the period has been able to make them; and
the whole, despite minor architectural faults, is worthy of the
nation. The building was completed and in use within ten years
from the time of its beginning. The construction of the
State-house at Albany, a building not so large, and containing
to-day no work of art either in painting or sculpture worthy of
notice, has dragged along during thirty years, and cost nearly
four times as much as the Berlin edifice; the latter having
demanded an outlay of a trifle over five million dollars, and the
former considerably over twenty millions.

The German Parliament House, apart from slight defects, as a
great architectural creation is in a style worthy of its
purpose--a style which is preserved in all its parts; while that
at Albany is, perhaps, the most curious jumble in the whole
history of architecture,--the lower stories being Palladian; the
stories above these being, if anything, Florentine; the summit
being, if anything, French Renaissance; while, as regards the
interior, the great west staircase, which is said to have cost
half a million of dollars, is in the Richardsonesque style; the
eastern staircase is in classic style; and a circular staircase
in the interior is in the most flamboyant Gothic which could be
got for money. To be sure, there are rooms at Albany on which
precious Siena marble and Mexican onyx are lavished, but these
are used so as to produce mainly the effect of an unintelligent
desire to spend money.

While in or near the Berlin edifice there is commemoration by
sculpture or painting of a multitude of meritorious public
servants, there is nowhere in the whole building at Albany a
statue or any fit remembrance of the two greatest governors in
the history of the State, DeWitt Clinton and William H. Seward.

The whole thing plunges one into reflection. If that single
building at Albany, which was estimated, upon plans carefully
made by the best of architects, to cost five millions of dollars,
and to be completed in four years, required over thirty years and
an expenditure of over twenty millions, what is a great "barge
canal" to cost, running through the whole length of the State,
encountering enormous difficulties of every sort, estimated at
the beginning to cost one hundred millions of dollars, but
including no estimate for "land damages," "water damages,"
"personal damages," "unprecedented floods," "unforeseen
obstacles," "quicksands," "changes of plan," etc., etc., which
have played such a costly and corrupting part in the past history
of our existing New York canals? And how many years will it take
to complete it? This was the train of thought and this was its
resultant query forced upon me whenever I looked upon the
Parliament House at Berlin.



CHAPTER XLI

AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE SPANISH WAR--1897-1903

During the early days of this second official stay of mine at
Berlin, Russia had, in one way and another, secured an entrance
into China for her trans-Siberian railway, and seemed to have
taken permanent possession of the vast region extending from her
own territory to the Pacific at Port Arthur. Germany followed
this example, and, in avenging the murder of certain
missionaries, took possession of the harbor of Kiao-Chau. Thereby
other nations were stirred to do likewise,--England, France, and
Italy beginning to move for extensions of territory or commercial
advantages, until it looked much as if China was to be parceled
out among the greater European powers, or at least held in
commercial subjection, to the exclusion of those nations which
had pursued a more dilatory policy.

Seeing this danger, our government instructed its representatives
at the courts of the great powers to request them to join in a
declaration in favor of an "open-door policy" in China, thus
establishing virtually an international agreement that none of
the powers obtaining concessions or controlling "spheres of
influence" in that country should secure privileges infringing
upon the equality of all nations in competing for Chinese trade.
This policy was pushed with vigor by the Washington cabinet, and
I was instructed to secure, if possible, the assent of the German
Government, which, after various conferences at the Foreign
Office and communications with the minister of foreign affairs,
some more, some less, satisfactory, I was at last able to do. The
assent was given very guardedly, but not the less effectively.
Its terms were that Germany, having been from the first in favor
of equal rights to all nations in the trade of China, would
gladly acquiesce in the proposed declaration if the other powers
concerned would do so.

The Emperor William himself was even more open and direct than
his minister. At his dinner to the ambassadors in the spring of
1900, he spoke to me very fully on the subject, and, in a
conversation which I have referred to elsewhere, assured me of
his complete and hearty concurrence in the American policy,
declaring, "We must stand together for the open door."

Finally, on the 9th of April, 1900, I had the satisfaction of
sending to the German Foreign Office the proofs that all the
other powers concerned, including Japan, had joined in the
American declaration, and that the government of the United
States considered this acquiescence to be full and final.

It was really a great service rendered to the world by Mr.
McKinley and Secretary Hay; their action was far-seeing, prompt,
bold, and successful.

Yet another subject of contention was the exclusion of sundry
American insurance companies from Germany, due in part to a
policy of "protection," but also to that same distrust of certain
American business methods which had given me much trouble in
dealing with the same question at St. Petersburg. The discussions
were long and tedious, but resulted in a sort of modus vivendi
likely to lead to something better.

The American sugar duties were also a sore subject. Various
writers in the German press and orators in public bodies
continued to insist that America had violated the treaties;
America insisted that she had not; and this trouble, becoming
chronic, aggravated all others. The main efforts of Count von
Bulow and myself were given to allaying inflammation by doses of
common sense and poultices of good-will until common sense could
assert its rights.

The everlasting meat question also went through various vexatious
phases, giving rise to bitter articles in the newspapers,
inflammatory speeches in Parliament, and measures in various
parts of the empire which, while sometimes honest, were always
injurious. American products which had been inspected in the
United States and Hamburg were again broken into, inspected, and
reinspected in various towns to which they were taken for retail,
with the result that the packages were damaged or spoiled, and
the costs of inspection and reinspection ate up all profits. I
once used an illustration of this at the Foreign Office that
seemed to produce some effect. It was the story of the Yankee
showman who, having been very successful in our Northern and
Middle States, took his show to the South, but when he returned
had evidently been stripped of his money. Being asked regarding
it, he said that his show had paid him well at first, but that on
arriving in Texas the authorities of each little village insisted
on holding an inquest over his Egyptian mummy, charging him
coroner's fees for it, and that this had made him a bankrupt.

Speeches, bitter and long, were made on both sides of the
Atlantic; the cable brought reports of drastic reprisals
preparing in Washington; but finally a system was adopted to
which the trade between the two countries has since been uneasily
trying to adjust itself.

Then there was sprung upon us the fruit question. One morning
came a storm of telegrams and letters stating that cargoes of
American fruits had been stopped in the German harbors, under the
charge that they contained injurious insects. The German
authorities were of course honest in this procedure, though they
were doubtless stimulated to it by sundry representatives of the
land-owning class. Our beautiful fruits, especially those of
California, had come to be very extensively used throughout the
empire, and the German consumers had been growing more and more
happy and the German producers more and more unhappy over this
fact, when suddenly there came from the American side accounts of
the scale-insects discovered on pears in California, and of
severe measures taken by sundry other States of our Union to
prohibit their importation. The result was a prohibition of our
fruits in Germany, and this was carried so far that not only
pears from California, but all other fruits, from all other parts
of the country, were at first put under the ban; and not only
fresh but dried and preserved fruits. As a matter of fact, there
was no danger whatever from the scale-insect, so far as fruit was
concerned. The creature never stirs from the spot on the pear to
which it fastens itself, and therefore by no possibility can it
be carried from the house where the fruit is consumed to the
nurseries where trees are grown. We took pains to show the facts
in the case; dealing fairly and openly with the German
Government, allowing that the importation of scale-infested trees
and shrubs might be dangerous, and making no objection to any
fair measures regarding these. The Foreign Office was reasonable,
and gradually the most vexatious of these prohibitions were
removed.

But the war with Spain drew on, and animosities, so far as the
press on both sides of the water was concerned, grew worse.
Various newspapers in Germany charged our government with a
wonderful assortment of high crimes and misdemeanors; but,
happily, in their eagerness to cover us with obloquy, they
frequently refuted each other. Thus they one day charged us with
having prepared long beforehand to crush Spain and to rob her of
her West Indian possessions, and the next day they charged us
with plunging into war suddenly, recklessly, utterly careless of
the consequences. One moment they insisted that American sailors
belonged to a deteriorated race of mongrels, and could never
stand against pure-blooded Spanish sailors; and the next moment,
that we were crushing the noble navy of Spain by brute force.
Various presses indulged in malignant prophecies: the Americans
would find Spain a very hard nut to crack; Spanish soldiers would
drive the American mongrels into the sea; when Cervera got out
with his fleet, the American fleet would slink away; Spanish
ships, being built under the safeguard of Spanish honor, must win
the victory; American ships, built under a regime of corruption,
would be found furnished with sham plating, sham guns, and sham
supplies of every sort. It all reminded me of sundry prophecies
we used to hear before our Civil War to the effect that, when the
Northern and Southern armies came into the presence of each
other, the Yankee soldiers would trade off their muskets to the
foe.

Against President McKinley every sort of iniquity was charged.
One day he was an idiot; another day, the most cunning of
intriguers; at one moment, an overbearing tyrant anxious to rush
into war; at another, a coward fearing war. It must be confessed
that this was mainly drawn from the American partizan press; but
it was, none the less, hard to bear.

In the meantime President McKinley, his cabinet, and the American
diplomatic corps in Europe did everything in their power to
prevent the war. Just as long as possible the President clearly
considered that his main claim on posterity would be for
maintaining peace against pressure and clamor. Under orders from
the State Department I met at Paris my old friend General
Woodford, who was on his way to Spain as minister of the United
States, and General Porter, the American ambassador to France,
our instructions being to confer regarding the best means of
maintaining peace; and we all agreed that everything possible be
done to allay the excitement in Spain; that no claims of a
special sort, whether pecuniary or otherwise, should be urged
until after the tension ceased; that every concession possible
should be made to Spanish pride; and that, just as far as
possible, everything should be avoided which could complicate the
general issue with personal considerations. All of us knew that
the greatest wish of the administration was to prevent the war,
or, if that proved impossible, to delay it.

For years, in common with the great majority of American
citizens, I had believed that the Spanish West Indies must break
loose from Spain some day, but had hoped that the question might
be adjourned until the middle or end of the twentieth century.
For I knew well that the separation of Cuba from Spain would be
followed, after no great length of time, by efforts for her
annexation to the United States, and that if such annexation of
Cuba should ever occur, she must come in as a State; that there
is no use in considering any other form of government for an
outlying dominion so large and so near; that there is no other
way of annexing a dependency so fully developed, and that, even
if there were, the rivalry of political parties contending for
electoral votes would be sure to insist on giving her statehood.
I dreaded the addition to our country of a million and a half of
citizens whose ability to govern themselves was exceedingly
doubtful, to say nothing of helping to govern our Union on the
mainland. The thought of senators and representatives to be
chosen by such a constituency to reside at Washington and to
legislate for the whole country, filled me with dismay.
Especially was the admission of Cuba to statehood a fearful
prospect just at that time, when we had so many difficult
questions to meet in the exercise of the suffrage. I never could
understand then, and cannot understand now, what Senator Morgan
of Alabama, who once had the reputation of being the strongest
representative from the South, could be thinking of when he was
declaiming in the Senate, first in behalf of the "oppressed
Cubans," and next in favor of measures which tended to add them
to the United States, and so to create a vast commonwealth
largely made up of negroes and mulattos accustomed to equality
with the whites, almost within musket-shot of the negroes and
mulattos of the South, from whom the constituents of Mr. Morgan
were at that very moment withholding the right of suffrage. I
could not see then, and I cannot see now, how he could possibly
be blind to the fact that if Cuba ever becomes a State of our
Union, she will soon begin to look with sympathy on those whom
she will consider her "oppressed colored brethren" in the South;
and that she will, just as inevitably, make common cause with
them at Washington, and perhaps in some other places, and
possibly not always by means so peaceful as orating under the
roof of the Capitol.

Moreover, the nation had just escaped a terrible catastrophe at
the last general election; the ignorant, careless, and perverse
vote having gone almost solidly for a financial policy which
would have wrecked us temporarily and disgraced us eternally.
Time will, no doubt, develop a more conservative sentiment in the
States where this vote for evil was cast; as civilization deepens
and advances, better ideas will doubtless grow stronger; but it
is sure that the addition of Cuba to the United States, if it
ever comes, means the adding of a vast illiterate mass of voters
to those who at that election showed themselves so dangerous.

On all these accounts I had felt very anxious to put off the
whole Cuban question until our Republic should become so much
larger and so much more mature that the addition of a few
millions of Spanish-Americans would be of but small account in
the total vote of the country.

Then, too, I had little sympathy with aspirations for what
Spanish revolutionists call freedom, and no admiration at all for
Central American republics. I had officially examined one of them
thoroughly, had known much of others, and had no belief in the
capacity of people for citizenship who prefer to carry on
government by pronunciamientos, who never acknowledge the rights
of majorities, who are ready to start civil war on the slightest
pretext, and who, when in power, exercise a despotism more
persistent and cruel than any since Nero and Caligula. No Russian
autocrat, claiming to govern by divine right, has ever dared to
commit the high-handed cruelties which are common in sundry West
Indian and equatorial republics. I felt that the great thing was
to gain time before doing anything which might result in the
admission of the millions trained under such influences into all
the rights, privileges, and powers of American citizenship.

But there came the destruction of the Maine in the harbor of
Havana, and thenceforward war was certain. The news was brought
to me at a gala representation of the opera at Berlin, when, on
invitation from the Emperor, the ambassadors were occupying a
large box opposite his own. Hardly had the telegram announcing
the catastrophe been placed in my hands when the Emperor entered,
and on his addressing me I informed him of it. He was evidently
shocked, and expressed a regret which, I fully believe, was
deeply sincere. He instantly asked, with a piercing look, "Was
the explosion from the outside?" My answer was that I hoped and
believed that it was not; that it was probably an interior
explosion. To my great regret, the official report afterward
obliged me to change my mind on the subject; but I still feel
that no Spanish officer or true Spaniard was concerned in the
matter. It has been my good fortune to know many Spanish
officers, and it is impossible for me to conceive one of their
kind as having taken part in so frightful a piece of treachery;
it has always seemed to be more likely that it was done by a
party of wild local fanatics, the refuse of a West Indian
seaport.

The Emperor remained firm in his first impression that the
explosion was caused from the outside. Even before this was
established by the official investigation, he had settled into
that conclusion. On one occasion, when a large number of leading
officers of the North Sea Squadron were dining with him, he asked
their opinion on this subject, and although the great
majority--indeed, almost all present--then believed that the
catastrophe had resulted from an interior explosion, he adhered
to his belief that it was from an exterior attack.

On various occasions before that time I had met my colleague the
Spanish ambassador, Senor Mendez y Vigo, and my relations with
him had been exceedingly pleasant. Each of us had tried to keep
up the hopes of the other that peace might be preserved, and down
to the last moment I took great pains to convince him of what I
knew to be the truth--that the policy of President McKinley was
to prevent war. But I took no less pains to show him that Spain
must aid the President by concessions to public opinion. My
personal sympathies, too, were aroused in behalf of my colleague.
He had passed the allotted threescore years and ten, was
evidently in infirm health, had five sons in the Spanish army,
and his son-in-law had recently been appointed minister at
Washington.

Notice of the declaration of war came to me under circumstances
somewhat embarrassing. On the 21st of April, 1898, began the
festivities at Dresden on the seventieth birthday of King Albert
of Saxony, which was also the twenty-fifth anniversary of his
accession; and in view of the high character of the King and of
the affection for him throughout Germany, and, indeed, throughout
Europe, nearly every civilized power had sent its representatives
to present its congratulations. In these the United States
joined. Throughout our country are large numbers of Saxons, who,
while thoroughly loyal to our Republic, cherish a kindly and even
affectionate feeling toward their former King and Queen.
Moreover, there was a special reason. For many years Dresden had
been a center in which very many American families congregated
for the purpose of educating their children, especially in the
German language and literature, in music, and in the fine arts;
no court in Europe had been so courteous to Americans properly
introduced, and in various ways the sovereigns had personally
shown their good feeling toward our countrymen.

It was in view of this that the Secretary of State instructed me
to present an autograph letter of congratulation from the
President to the King, and on the 20th of April I proceeded to
Dresden, with the embassy secretaries and attaches, for this
purpose. About midnight between the 20th and 21st there came a
loud and persistent knocking at my door in the hotel, and there
soon entered a telegraph messenger with an enormously long
despatch in cipher. Hardly had I set the secretaries at work upon
it than other telegrams began to come, and a large part of the
night was given to deciphering them. They announced the
declaration of war and instructed me to convey to the various
parties interested the usual notices regarding war measures:
blockade, prohibitions, exemptions, regulations, and the like.

At eleven o'clock the next morning, court carriages having taken
us over to the palace, we were going up the grand staircase in
full force when who should appear at the top, on his way down,
but the Spanish ambassador with his suite! Both of us were, of
course, embarrassed. No doubt he felt, as I did, that it would
have been more agreeable just then to meet the representative of
any other power than of that with which war had just been
declared; but I put out my hand and addressed him, if not so
cordially as usual, at least in a kindly way; he reciprocated the
greeting, and our embarrassment was at least lessened. Of course,
during the continuation of the war, our relations lacked their
former cordiality, but we remained personally friendly.

In my brief speech on delivering President McKinley's letter I
tendered to the King and Queen the President's congratulations,
with thanks for the courtesies which had been shown to my
countrymen. This was not the first occasion on which I had
discharged this latter duty, for, at a formal presentation to
these sovereigns some time before, I had taken pains to show that
we were not unmindful of their kindness to our compatriots. The
festivities which followed were interesting. There were dinners
with high state officials, gala opera, and historical
representations, given by the city of Dresden, of a very
beautiful character. On these occasions I met various eminent
personages, among others the Emperor of Austria and his prime
minister, Count Goluchowsky, both of whom discussed current
international topics with clearness and force; and I also had
rather an interesting conversation with the papal nuncio at
Munich, more recently in Paris, Lorenzelli, with reference to
various measures looking to the possible abridgment of the war.

On the third day of the festivities came a great review, and a
sight somewhat rare. To greet the King there were present the
Emperor of Germany, the Emperor of Austria, and various minor
German sovereigns, each of whom had in the Saxon army a regiment
nominally his own, and led it past the Saxon monarch, saluting
him as he reviewed it. The two Emperors certainly discharged this
duty in a very handsome, chivalric sort of way. In the evening
came a great dinner at the palace, at which the King and Queen
presided. The only speech on the occasion was one of
congratulation made by the Emperor of Austria, and it was very
creditable to him, being to all appearance extemporaneous, yet
well worded, quiet, dignified, and manly. The ceremonies closed
on Sunday with a grand "Te Deum" at the palace church, in the
presence of all the majesties,--the joy expressed by the music
being duly accentuated by cannon outside.

I may say, before closing this subject, that Thomas Jefferson's
famous letter to Governor Langdon, describing royal personages as
he knew them while minister to France before the French
Revolution, no longer applies. The events which followed the
Revolution taught the crowned heads of Europe that they could no
longer indulge in the good old Bourbon, Hapsburg, and Braganza
idleness and stupidity. Modern European sovereigns, almost
without exception, work for their living, and work hard. Few
business men go through a more severe training, or a longer and
harder day of steady work, than do most of the contemporary
sovereigns of Europe. This fact especially struck me on my
presentation, about this time, to one of the best of the minor
monarchs, the King of Wurtemberg. I found him a hearty, strong,
active-minded man--the sort of man whom we in America would call
"level-headed" and "a worker." Learning that I had once passed a
winter in Stuttgart, he detained me long with a most interesting
account of the improvements which had been made in the city since
my visit, and showed public spirit of a sort very different from
that which animated the minor potentates of Germany in the last
century. The same may be said of the Grand Duke of Baden, who, in
a long conversation, impressed me as a gentleman of large and
just views, understanding the problems of his time and thoroughly
in sympathy with the best men and movements.

Republican as I am, this acknowledgment must be made. The
historical lessons of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,
and the pressure of democracy, are obliging the monarchs of
Europe to fit themselves for their duties wisely and to discharge
them intelligently. But this is true only of certain ruling
houses. There seems to be a "survival of the fittest." At various
periods in my life I have also had occasion to observe with some
care various pretenders to European thrones, among them the
husband of Queen Isabella of Spain; Prince Napoleon Victor, the
heir to the Napoleonic throne; the Duke of Orleans; Don Carlos,
the representative of the Spanish Bourbons; with sundry others;
and it would be hard to conceive persons more utterly unfit or
futile.

As to the conduct of Germany during our war with Spain, while the
press, with two or three exceptions, was anything but friendly,
and while a large majority of the people were hostile to us on
account of the natural sympathy with a small power battling
against a larger one, the course of the Imperial Government,
especially of the Foreign Office under Count von Bulow and Baron
von Richthofen, was all that could be desired. Indeed, they went
so far on one occasion as almost to alarm us. The American consul
at Hamburg having notified me by telephone that a Spanish vessel,
supposed to be loaded with arms for use against us in Cuba, was
about to leave that port, I hastened to the Foreign Office and
urged that vigorous steps be taken, with the result that the
vessel, which in the meantime had left Hamburg, was overhauled
and searched at the mouth of the Elbe. The German Government
might easily have pleaded, in answer to my request, that the
American Government had generally shown itself opposed to any
such interference with the shipments of small arms to
belligerents, and had contended that it was not obliged to search
vessels to find such contraband of war, but that this duty was
incumbent upon the belligerent nation concerned. This evidence of
the fairness of Germany I took pains to make known, and in my
address at the American celebration in Leipsic on the Fourth of
July declared my belief that the hostility of the German people
and press at large was only temporary, and that the old good
relations would be restored. Knowing that my speech would be
widely quoted in the German press, I took even more pains to show
the reasons why we could bide our time and trust to the
magnanimity of the German people. Of one thing I then and always
reminded my hearers--namely, that during our Civil War, when our
national existence was trembling in the balance and our foreign
friends were few, the German press and people were steadily on
our side.

The occasion was indeed a peculiar one. On the morning of the
Fourth, when we had all assembled, bad news came. Certain German
presses had been very prompt to patch together all sorts of
accounts of American defeats, and to present them in the most
unpleasant way possible; but while we were seated at table in the
evening came a despatch announcing the annihilation of the
Spanish fleet in Cuban waters, and this put us all in good humor.
One circumstance may serve to show the bitterness at heart among
Americans at this period. On entering the dining-hall with our
consul, I noticed two things: first, that the hall was profusely
decorated in a way I had never seen before and had never expected
to see--namely, by intertwined American and British flags; and,
secondly, that there was not a German flag in the room. I
immediately sent for the proprietor and told him that I would not
sit down to dinner until a German flag was brought in. He at
first thought it impossible to supply the want, but, on my
insisting, a large flag was at last found. This was speedily
given a place of honor among the interior decorations of our
hall, and all then went on satisfactorily.

As the war with Spain progressed, various causes of difficulty
arose between Germany and the United States, but I feel bound to
say that the German Government continued to act toward us with
justice. The sensational press, indeed, continued its work on
both sides of the Atlantic. On our side it took pains to secure
and publish stories of insults by the German Admiral Diederichs
to the American Admiral Dewey, and to develop various legends
regarding these two commanders. As a matter of fact, each of the
two admirals, when their relations first began in Manila, was
doubtless rather stiff and on his guard against the other; but
these feelings soon yielded to different sentiments.

The foolish utterances of various individuals, spread by sundry
American papers, were heartily echoed in the German press, the
most noted among these being an alleged after-dinner speech by an
American officer at a New York club, and a Congressional speech
in which the person who made it declared that "the United States,
having whipped Spain, ought now to whip Germany." Still, the
thinking men intrusted with the relations between the two
countries labored on, though at times there must have recurred to
us a sense of the divine inspiration of Schiller's words,
"Against stupidity even the gods fight in vain."

Of course the task of the embassy in protecting American citizens
abroad was especially increased in those times of commotion. At
such periods the number of ways in which American citizens,
native or naturalized, can get into trouble seems infinite; and
here, too, even from the first moment of my arrival in Berlin as
ambassador, I saw evidences of the same evil which had struck me
during my previous missions in Berlin and St. Petersburg--namely,
the constant and ingenious efforts to prostitute American
citizenship. Among the manifold duties of an ambassador is the
granting of passports. The great majority of those who ask for
them are entitled to them; but there are always a considerable
number of persons who, having left Europe just in time to escape
military service, have stayed in America just long enough to
acquire American citizenship, and then, having returned to their
native country, seek to enjoy the advantages of both countries
while discharging the duties of neither. Even worse were the
cases of the descendants of such so-called Americans, most of
them born in Europe and not able even to speak the English
language; worst of all were the cases of sundry
Russians--sometimes stigmatized as "predatory Hebrews"--who,
having left Russia and gone to America, had stayed just long
enough to acquire citizenship, and then returned and settled in
the eastern part of Germany, as near the Russian frontier as
possible. These were naturally regarded as fraudulent interlopers
by both the German and Russian authorities, and much trouble
resulted. Some of them led a life hardly outside the limits of
criminality; but they never hesitated on this account to insist
on their claims to American protection. When they were reminded
that American citizenship was conferred upon them, not that they
might shirk its duties and misuse its advantages in the land of
their birth, but that they might enjoy it and discharge its
duties in the land of their adoption, they scouted the idea and
insisted on their right, as American citizens, to live where they
pleased. Their communications to the embassy were, almost without
exception, in German, Russian, or Polish; very few of them wrote
or even spoke English, and very many of them could neither read
nor write in any language. For the hard-working immigrant,
whether Jew or Gentile, who comes to our country and casts in his
lot with us, to take his share not only of privilege but of duty,
I have the fullest respect and sympathy, and have always been
glad to intervene in his favor; but intervention in behalf of
those fraudulent pretenders I always felt to be a galling burden.

Fortunately the rules of the State Department have been of late
years strengthened to meet this evil, and it has finally become
our practice to inform such people that if they return to America
they can receive a passport for that purpose; but that unless
they show a clear intention of returning, they cannot. Very many
of them persist in their applications in spite of this, and one
case became famous both at the State Department and at the
embassy. Three Russians of the class referred to had emigrated
with their families to America, and, after the usual manner,
stayed just long enough to acquire citizenship, and had then
returned to Germany. One of them committed a crime and
disappeared; the other two went to the extreme eastern frontier
of Prussia and settled there. Again and again the Prussian
Government notified us that under the right exercised by every
nation, and especially by our own, these "undesirable intruders"
must leave Prussian territory or be expelled. Finally we
discovered at the embassy that a secret arrangement had been made
between Germany and Russia which obliged each to return the
undesirable emigrants of the other. This seemed to put the two
families in great danger of being returned to Russia; and, sooner
than risk a new international trouble, a proposal was made to
them, through the embassy, to pay their expenses back to America;
but they utterly refused to leave, and continued to burrow in the
wretched suburbs of one of the German cities nearest the Russian
border. Reams of correspondence ensued--all to no purpose; a
special messenger was sent to influence them--all in vain: they
persisted in living just as near Russia as possible, and in
calling themselves American, though not one of them spoke
English.

From time to time appeared in our own country attacks against the
various American embassies and legations abroad for not
protecting such American citizens, and a very common feature of
these articles was an unfavorable comparison between the United
States and England: it being claimed that Great Britain protects
her citizens everywhere, while the United States does not. This
statement is most misleading. Great Britain, while she is
renowned for protecting her subjects throughout the world,
--bringing the resources of her fleet, if need be, to aid
them,--makes an exception as regards her adopted citizens in the
land of their birth. The person who, having been naturalized in
Great Britain, goes back to the country of his birth, does so at
his or her own risk. The British Government considers itself,
under such circumstances, entirely absolved from the duty of
giving protection. The simple fact is that the United States goes
much further in protecting adopted citizens than does any other
country, and it is only rank demagogism which can find fault
because some of our thinking statesmen do not wish to see
American citizenship prostituted by persons utterly unfit to
receive it, who frequently use it fraudulently, and who, as many
cases prove, are quite ready to renounce it and take up their old
allegiance if they can gain advantage thereby.

Another general duty of the embassy was to smooth the way for the
large number of young men and women who came over as students.
This duty was especially pleasing to me now, as it had been
during my life as minister in Berlin twenty years before. At that
time women were not admitted to the universities; but now large
numbers were in attendance. The university authorities showed
themselves very courteous, and, when there was any doubt as to
the standing of the institution from which a candidate for
admission came, allowed me to pass upon the question and accepted
my certificate. Almost without exception, I found these
candidates excellent; but there were some exceptions. The
applicants were usually persons who had been graduated from some
one of our own institutions; but, from time to time, persons who
had merely passed a freshman year in some little American college
came abroad, anxious to secure the glory of going at once into a
German university. Certificates for such candidates I declined to
sign. To do so would have been an abuse sure to lead the German
authorities finally to reject the great mass of American
students: far better for applicants to secure the best advantages
possible in their own country, and then to supplement their study
at home by proper work abroad.

In sketches of my former mission to Berlin I have mentioned
various applications, some of them psychological curiosities;
these I found continuing, though with variations. Some
compatriots expected me to forward to the Emperor begging
letters, or letters suggesting to him new ideas, unaware that
myriads of such letters are constantly sent which never reach
him, and which even his secretaries never think of reading.
Others sent books, not knowing the rule prevailing among crowned
heads, never to accept a PUBLISHED book, and not realizing that
if this rule were broken, not one book in a thousand would get
beyond the office of his general secretary. Others sent medicine
which they wished him to recommend; and one gentleman was very
persistent in endeavoring to secure his Majesty's decision on a
wager.

Then there were singers or performers on wind or string
instruments wishing to sing or play before him, sculptors and
painters wishing him to visit their studios, and writers of music
wishing him to order their compositions to be brought out at the
Royal Opera.

All these requests culminated in two, wherein the gentle reader
will see a mixture of comic and pathetic. The first was from a
person (not an American) who wished my good offices in enabling
her to obtain a commission for a brilliant marriage,--she having
in reserve, as she assured me, a real Italian duke whom, for a
consideration, she would secure for an American heiress. The
other, which was from an eminently respectable source, urged me
to induce the imperial authorities to station in the United
States a young German officer with whom an American young lady
had fallen in love. And these proposals I was expected to
further, in spite of the fact that the rules for American
representatives abroad forbid all special pleading of any kind in
favor of individual interests or enterprises, without special
instructions from the State Department. Discouraging was it to
find that in spite of the elaborate statement prepared by me
during my former residence, which had been freely circulated
during twenty years, there were still the usual number of people
persuaded that enormous fortunes were awaiting them somewhere in
Germany.

One application, from a truly disinterested man, was grounded in
nobler motives. This was an effort made by an eminent Polish
scholar and patriot to wrest American citizenship for political
purposes. He had been an instructor at various Russian and German
universities had shown in some of his books extraordinary
ability, had gained the friendship of several eminent scholars in
Great Britain and on the Continent, and was finally settled at
one of the most influential seats of learning in Austrian Poland.
He was a most attractive man, wide in his knowledge, charming in
his manner; but not of this world. Having drawn crowds to his
university lectures, he suddenly attacked the Emperor Franz
Josef, who, more than any other, had befriended his compatriots;
was therefore obliged to flee from his post; and now came to
Berlin, proposing seriously that I should at once make him an
American citizen, and thus, as he supposed, enable him to go back
to his university and, in revolutionary speeches, bid defiance to
Austria, Russia, and Germany. Great was his disappointment when
he learned that, in order to acquire citizenship, he would be
obliged to go to the United States and remain there five years.
As he was trying to nerve himself for this sacrifice, I presented
some serious considerations to him. Knowing him to be a man of
honor, I asked him how he could reconcile it with his sense of
veracity to assume the rights of American citizenship with no
intention to discharge its duties. This somewhat startled him.
Then, from a more immediately practical point of view, I showed
that, even if he acquired American citizenship, and could
reconcile his conscience to break the virtual pledge he had made
in order to obtain it, the government of Austria, and, indeed,
all other governments, would still have a full right, under the
simplest principles of international law, to forbid his entrance
into their territories, or to turn him out after he had
entered,--the right of expelling undesirable emigrants being
constantly exercised, even by the United States. This amazed him.
He had absolutely persuaded himself that I could, by some sleight
of hand, transform him into an American citizen; that he could
then at once begin attempts to reestablish the fine old Polish
anarchy in Austria, Russia, and Germany; and that no one of these
nations would dare interfere with him. It was absurd but
pathetic. My advice to him was to go back to his lecture-room and
labor to raise the character of the younger generation of Poles,
in the hope that Poland might do what Scotland had done--rise by
sound mental and moral training from the condition of a conquered
and even oppressed part of a great empire to a controlling
position in it. This advice was, of course, in vain, and he is
now building air-castles amid the fogs of London.

In my life at Berlin as ambassador there was a tinge of sadness.
Great changes had taken place since my student days in that city,
and even since my later stay as minister. A new race of men had
come upon the stage in public affairs, in the university, and in
literary circles. Gone was the old Emperor William, gone also was
the Emperor Frederick, and Bismarck and Moltke and a host of
others who had given dignity and interest to the great
assemblages at the capital. Gone, too, from the university were
Lepsius, Helmholtz, Curtius, Hoffmann, Gneist, Du Bois-Reymond,
and Treitschke, all of whom, in the old days, had been my guests
and friends. The main exceptions seemed to be in the art world.
The number of my artist friends during my stay as minister had
been large, and every one of them was living when I returned as
ambassador; the reason, of course, being that when men
distinguish themselves in art at all, they do so at an earlier
age than do high functionaries of state and professors in the
universities. It was a great pleasure to find Adolf Menzel,
Ludwig Knaus, Carl Beeker, Anton von Werner, and Paul Meyerheim,
though grown gray in their beautiful ministry, still daily at
work in their studios.

Three only of my friends of the older generation in the Berlin
faculty remained; and as I revise these lines the world is laying
tributes upon the grave of the last of them--Theodor Mommsen.
With him my relations were so peculiar that they may deserve some
mention.

During my earlier stays in Berlin he had always seemed especially
friendly to the United States, and it was therefore with regret
that on my return I found him in this respect greatly changed: he
had become a severe critic of nearly everything American; his
earlier expectations had evidently been disappointed; we clearly
appeared to him big, braggart, noisy, false to our principles,
unworthy of our opportunities. These feelings of his became even
more marked as the Spanish-American War drew on. Whenever we met,
and most often at a charming house which both of us frequented,
he showed himself more and more bitter, so that finally our paths
separated. There comes back to me vividly one evening when I
sought to turn off a sharp comment of his upon some recent
American news by saying: "You must give a young nation like ours
more time." On this he exclaimed: "You cannot plead the baby act
any longer. More time! You have HAD time; you are already three
hundred years old!" Having sought in vain to impress on him the
fact that the policy of our country is determined not wholly by
the older elements in its civilization, but very largely by newer
commonwealths which must require time to develop a policy
satisfactory to sedate judges, he burst into a tirade from which
I took refuge in a totally different discussion.

Some days later came another evidence of his feeling. Meeting an
eminent leader in political, and especially in journalistic,
circles, I was shown the corrected proofsheets of an "interview"
on the conduct of the United States toward Spain, given by
Mommsen. It was even more acrid than his previous utterances, and
exhibited sharply and at great length our alleged sins and
shortcomings. Certainly a representative of the American people
was not bound to make supplication, in such a matter, even to so
eminent a scholar and leader of thought, and my comment was
simply as follows: "I have no request to make in the premises--of
Mommsen or of anybody. The article will of course have no effect
on the war; of that there can be but one result: the triumph of
the United States and the liberation of the Spanish islands of
the West Indies; but may there not be some considerations of a
very different order as regards Mommsen himself? Why not ask him,
simply, where his friends are; his readers, his old students, his
disciples? Why not ask him whether he finds fewer clouds over the
policy of Spain than over that of the United States; of which
country, despite all its faults, he has most hope; and for which,
in his heart, he has the greater feeling of brotherhood?"

How far this answer influenced him I know not, but the article
was never published; and thenceforth there seemed some revival of
the older kindly feeling. At my own table and elsewhere he more
than once became, in a measure, like the Mommsen of old. One
utterance of his amused me much. My wife happening, in a talk
with him, to speak of a certain personage as "hardly an ideal
man," he retorted: "Madam, is it possible that you have been
married some years and still believe in the ideal man?"

His old better feeling toward America came out especially when I
next called upon him with congratulations upon his birthday--his
last, alas! But heartiest of all was he during the dinner given
at my departure. My speech was long,--over an hour,--for I had a
message to deliver, and was determined to give it--a message
which I hoped might impress upon my great audience reasons for a
friendly judgment of my country. As I began, Mommsen came to my
side--just back of me, his hand at his ear, listening intently.
There the old man stood from the first word to the last, and on
my conclusion he grasped me heartily with both hands--a
demonstration rare indeed with him. It was our last greeting in
this world.

Would that there were space to dwell upon those in the present
generation of professors who honored me with their friendship;
but one is especially suggested here, since he was selected to
make a farewell address on the occasion above referred to--Adolf
Harnack. At various times I had heard him discourse profoundly
and brilliantly at the university, but came to know him best at
the bicentenary of the Berlin Academy, when he had just added to
the long list of his published works his history of the academy,
in four quarto volumes: a wonderful work, whether considered from
an historical, psychological, or philosophical point of view. His
address on that occasion was masterly, and his conversation at
various social functions instructive and pithy. I remember in one
of them, especially, his delineation of the characteristics and
services of Leibnitz, who was one of the founders of the Royal
Academy, and it was perfection in that kind of conversation which
is worthy of men claiming to possess immortal souls: for it
brought out, especially, examples of Leibnitz's amazing
forethought as to European policy, which seemed at times like
divinely inspired prophecies. He also gave me a number of
interesting things which he had noted in his studies of Frederick
the Great. Some of them I had found already in my own reading,
but one of them I did not remember, and it was both comical and
characteristic. A rural Protestant pastor sent a petition to the
King presenting a grievance and asking redress. It was to the
effect that his church was on one side of a river in Silesia, and
that a younger pastor, whose church was on the opposite side, was
drawing all his parishioners away from him. On the back of the
petition Frederick simply wrote, "Tell him to go and preach on
the other side of the river: that will drive his people back
again."

Hearing Harnack and his leading colleagues in discourse at the
university or academy, or in private, whether in their loftier or
lighter moods, one could understand why the University of Berlin,
though one of the youngest, is the foremost among the
universities of the world.



CHAPTER XLII

AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE CHINESE WAR--1899-1902

An interesting event of this period was the appearance in Berlin
of ex-President and Mrs. Harrison. The President had but recently
finished his long and wearisome work before the Venezuela
Arbitration Tribunal at Paris, and was very happy in the
consciousness of duty accomplished and liberty obtained. Marks of
high distinction were shown them. The sovereigns invited them to
attend the festivities at Potsdam in honor of the Queen and Queen
Mother of Holland, who were then staying there, and treated them
not only with respect, but with cordiality. The Emperor conversed
long with the President on various matters of public interest: on
noted Americans whom he had met, on the growth of our fleet, on
recent events in our history, and the like, characteristically
ending with a discussion of the superb music which we had been
hearing; and at the supper which followed insisted that Mrs.
Harrison should sit at his side, the Empress giving a similar
invitation to Mr. Harrison. At a later period a dinner was given
to the ex-President by the chancellor of the empire, Prince
Hohenlohe, at which a number of the leading personages in the
empire were present; and it was a pleasure to show my own respect
for the former chief magistrate by a reception which was attended
by about two hundred of our American colony, and a dinner at
which he and Mrs. Harrison made the acquaintance of leading
representative Germans in various fields.

In another chapter of these memoirs I have spoken of President
Harrison as of cold and, at times, abrupt manners; but the
absence of these characteristics during his stay in Berlin, and
afterward in New York, made it clear to me that the cold exterior
which I had noted in him at Washington, especially when Mr.
Roosevelt, Mr. Lodge, and sundry others of us urged upon him an
extension of the classified civil service, was adopted as a means
of preventing encroachments upon the time necessary for his daily
duties. He now appeared in a very different light, his discussion
of men and events showing not only earnest thought and deep
penetration, but a rich vein of humor; his whole bearing being
simple, kindly, and dignified.

During the winter of 1899-1900 came an addition to my experiences
of what American representatives abroad have to expect under our
present happy-go-lucky provision for the diplomatic service. As
already stated, on arriving in Berlin, I had great difficulty in
obtaining any fitting quarters, but at last secured a large and
suitable apartment in an excellent part of the city, its only
disadvantage being that my guests had to plod up seventy-five
steps in order to reach it. Having been obliged to make large
outlays for suitable fittings, extensive repairs, and furniture
throughout, I found that more than the entire salary of my first
year had been thus sunk; but I congratulated myself that I had at
least obtained a residence good, comfortable, and suitable. To be
sure, it was inferior to that of any other ambassador, but I had
fitted it up so that it was considered creditable. Suddenly,
about two years afterward, without a word of warning, came notice
from the proprietor that my lease was void--that he had sold the
house, and that I must leave it; so that it looked as if the
American Embassy would, at an early day, be turned into the
street. This was trying indeed. It was at the beginning of the
social season, and interfered greatly with my duties of every
sort. And there cropped out a feeling, among all conversant with
the case, which I cannot say was conducive to respect for the
wisdom of those who give laws to our country.

But, happily, I had insisted on inserting in the lease a clause
which seemed to make it doubtful whether the proprietor could
turn me out so easily and speedily. Under German law it was a
very precarious reliance, but on this I took my stand, and at
last, thanks mainly to the kindness of my colleague who succeeded
me as a tenant, made a compromise under which I was enabled to
retain the apartment for something over a year longer.

It may be interesting for an American who has a proper feeling
regarding the position of his country abroad to know that the
purchaser of the entire house--not only of the floor which I had
occupied, but of the similar apartment beneath, as well as that
on the ground floor--was the little Grand Duchy of Baden, which
in this way provided for its minister, secretaries, and others
connected with its legation in the German capital.

On the theory of line upon line and precept upon precept, I again
call attention, NOT to the wrong done ME by this American policy,
or rather want of policy,--for I knew in coming what I had to
expect,--but to the injury thus done to the PROPER STANDING OF
OUR COUNTRY BEFORE THE OTHER NATIONS OF THE WORLD. Again I insist
that, in its own interest, a government like ours ought, in every
capital where it is represented, to possess or to hold on long
lease a house or apartment suitable to its representative and
creditable to itself.

Early in the spring of 1900 came an event of some historical
interest. On the 19th of March and the two days following was
celebrated the two-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the
Royal Academy of Sciences. The Emperor, as well as the Academy,
had determined to make it a great occasion, and the result was a
series of very brilliant pageants. These began by a solemn
reception of the delegates from all parts of the world in the
great hall of the palace, my duty being to represent the
Smithsonian Institution at Washington, and my colleagues being
Professors White and Wolf of Harvard, who had been sent by the
American Academy of Sciences. The scene was very striking, all
the delegates, except those from America and Switzerland, being
in the costumes of the organizations they represented; most were
picturesque, and some had a very mediaeval appearance; those from
the ancient universities of Wurzburg and Prague, especially,
looking as if they had just stepped out of an illuminated
manuscript of the fourteenth century. At the time named for the
beginning of the festival the Emperor entered, announced by the
blare of trumpets, preceded by ministers bearing the sword,
standard, and great seal, and by generals bearing the crown,
scepter, and orb. He was surrounded by the highest officials of
the kingdom and empire, and having taken his seat on the throne,
there came majestic music preluding sundry orations and lists of
honors conferred on eminent men of science in all parts of the
world, among whom I was glad to note Professors Gibbs of Yale,
James of Harvard, and Rowland of Johns Hopkins.

The Emperor's speech was characteristic. It showed that his heart
was in the matter; that he felt a just pride in the achievements
of German science, and was determined that no efforts of his
should be wanting to increase and extend them. After the close of
the function, which was made in the same stately way as its
beginning, my colleagues drove home with me, and one of them
said, "Well, I am an American and a republican, but when I am in
a monarchy I like to see a thing of this kind done in the most
magnificent way possible, as it was this morning." A day or two
afterward, at the dinner given to the ambassadors by the Emperor,
I told him this story. He laughed heartily, and then said: "Your
friend is right: if a man is to be a monarch, let him be a
monarch; Dom Pedro of Brazil tried to be something else, and it
did not turn out well."

Impressive in a different way were the ceremonies attendant upon
the coming of age of the German crown prince, on the 6th of May,
1900. To do honor to the occasion, the Emperor Franz Josef of
Austria-Hungary had sent word that he would be present, and for
many days the whole city seemed mainly devoted to decorating its
buildings and streets for his visit; the culmination of the whole
being at the Pariser Platz, in front of the Brandenburg Gate,
where a triumphal arch and obelisks were erected, with other
decorations, patriotic and complimentary. On the morning of the
4th he arrived, and, entering the city at the side of the German
Emperor, each in the proper uniform of the other, he was received
by the burgomaster and town council of Berlin with a most cordial
speech, and then, passing on through the Linden, which was
showily decorated, he was enthusiastically greeted everywhere. No
doubt this greeting was thoroughly sincere, since all good
Germans look upon Franz Josef as their truest ally.

Next evening there was a "gala" performance at the Royal Opera,
the play presented being, of all things in the world, Auber's
"Bronze Horse," which is a farcical Chinese fairy tale set to
very light and pleasing music. The stage setting was gorgeous,
but the audience was still more so, delegates from all the
greater powers of the world being present, including the heirs to
the British and Italian thrones, the Grand Duke Constantine of
Russia, and a multitude of other scions of royalty. One feature
was comical. Near me sat His Excellency the Chinese minister,
surrounded by his secretaries and attaches, all apparently
delighted; and on my asking him, through his interpreter, how he
liked it, he said, "Very much; this shows the Europeans that in
China we know how to amuse ourselves." Of the fact that it was a
rather highly charged caricature of Chinese officialdom he seemed
either really or diplomatically unconscious.

On the following morning I was received in audience by the German
Emperor, bringing to him a warm message of congratulation from
President McKinley; and when His Majesty had replied very
cordially, he introduced me to the crown prince standing at his
side, to whom I gave the President's best wishes. Then came, in
the chapel of the palace, an impressive religious service, the
address by Dr. Dryander being eloquent, and the music, by the
cathedral choir and, at times, by a great military orchestra,
both far above us in the dome, beautiful. At its close the crown
prince came forward, stood before the altar, where I had seen his
parents married twenty years before, and the oath of allegiance,
which was quite long, having been read to him by the colonel of
his regiment, he repeated it, word for word, and made his solemn
pledge, lifting one hand and grasping the imperial standard with
the other. Then, after receiving affectionate embraces from his
father and mother, he was congratulated by the sovereigns and
royal personages. The ambassadors and ministers having been then
received by the Emperor and Empress, the young prince came along
the line and spoke to each of us in a very unaffected and manly
way. He was at that time somewhat taller than his father, with an
intelligent and pleasant face, and is likely, I should say, to do
well in his great position, though not possessing, probably,
anything like his father's varied gifts and graces.

In the evening came a dinner in the White Hall of the palace to
several hundred guests, including the Emperor of Austria-Hungary,
the King of Saxony, and other visiting personages, with the heads
of the diplomatic missions, and the leading personages of the
empire; and near the close of it the Emperor William arose and
made an excellent speech, to all appearance extemporaneous. The
answer by the Emperor of Austria-Hungary was read by him, and was
sensible and appropriate.

That this visit did much to strengthen the ties which bind the
two monarchies was shown not merely by hurrahs in the streets and
dithyrambic utterances in the newspapers, but by a mass of other
testimony. One curious thing was the great care everywhere taken
in the decorations to honor the crown and flag of Hungary equally
with that of Austria, and this, as was shown by the Hungarian
journals, had an excellent effect. By this meeting, no doubt, the
Triple Alliance was somewhat strengthened, and the chances for
continued peace increased, at least during the lifetime of the
Emperor Franz Josef. As to what will follow his death all is
dark. His successor is one of the least suitable of
men,--unprepossessing, and even forbidding, in every respect.
Brought up by the Jesuits, he is distrusted by a vast mass of the
best people in the empire, Catholic and Protestant. A devout
Catholic they would be glad to take, but a Jesuit pupil they
dread, for they know too well what such have brought upon the
empire hitherto, and, indeed, upon every kingdom which has
allowed them in its councils. His previous career has not been
edifying, and there is no reason to expect any change in him. The
Emperor Franz Josef is probably as thoroughly beloved by his
subjects as any sovereign in history has ever been. His great
misfortunes--fearful defeats in the wars with France and Germany,
the suicide of his only son, the assassination of his wife, and
family troubles in more recent times--have thrown about him an
atmosphere of romantic sympathy; while love for his kindly
qualities is mingled with respect for his plain common sense.
During his stay in Berlin I met him a second time. At my first
presentation at Dresden, two years before, there was little
opportunity for extended conversation; but he now spoke quite at
length and in a manner which showed him to be observant of the
world's affairs even in remote regions. He discussed the recent
increase of our army, the progress of our war in the Philippines,
and the extension of American enterprise in various parts of the
world, in a way which was not at all perfunctory, but evidently
the result of large information and careful observation. His
empire, which is a seething caldron of hates, racial, religious,
political, and local, is held together by love and respect for
him; but when he dies this personal tie which unites all these
different races, parties, and localities will disappear, and in
place of it will come the man who by force of untoward
circumstances is to be his successor, and this is anything but a
pleasing prospect to an Austro-Hungarian, or, indeed, to any
thoughtful observer of human affairs.

Interesting to me at this period was a visit from representatives
of the "Kriegerverein"--German-Americans who had formerly fought
in the war between Germany and France, who had since become
American citizens, and who were now revisiting their native land.
They were a very manly body, evidently taking pride in the
American flag which they carried, and also in the part they had
played in Germany. Replying to a friendly address by their
commanding officer, I took up some current American fallacies
regarding Germany and Germans, encouraged my hearers to stand
firm against sensational efforts to make trouble between the two
countries, urged them to keep their children in knowledge of the
German language and in touch with German civilization, while
bringing them up as thoroughly loyal Americans, reminding them
that every American who is interested in German history or
literature or science or art is an additional link in the chain
which binds together the two nations. The speech was of a very
offhand sort; but it seemed to strike deep and speed far, for it
evoked most kindly letters of congratulation and thanks from
various parts of Germany and the United States.

The most striking episode in the history of the world during
these years was the revolution in China. The first event which
startled mankind was the murder of Baron von Ketteler, the German
minister at Peking, a man of remarkable abilities and
accomplishments, who was thought sure to rise high among
diplomatists, and who had especially attracted American
friendships by his marriage with an American lady. The impression
created by this calamity was made all the greater by the fact
that, in the absence of further news from the Chinese capital,
there was reason to fear that the whole diplomatic corps, with
their families, might be murdered. American action in the
entanglements which followed was prompt and successful, and
thinking men everywhere soon saw it to be so. Toward the end of
July, 1900, being about to go to America for the summer, I took
leave of Count von Bulow at the Foreign Office, and, on coming
out, met one of my colleagues, who, although representing one of
the lesser European powers, was well known as exceedingly shrewd
and far-sighted. He said: "I congratulate you on the course
pursued by your government during this fearful Chinese imbroglio.
Other powers have made haste to jump into war; your admiral at
Tientsin seems the only one who has kept his head; other
governments have treated representatives of the Chinese Empire as
hostile, and, in doing so, have cut themselves off from all
direct influence on the Peking Government; the government at
Washington has taken an opposite course, has considered the
troubles as, prima facie, the work of insurrectionists, has
insisted on claiming friendship with the constituted authorities
in China, and, in view of this friendship, has insisted on being
kept in communication with its representative at the Chinese
capital, the result being that your government has been allowed
to communicate with its representative, and has thereby gained
the information and issued the orders which have saved the entire
diplomatic corps, as well as the forces of the different powers
now in Peking."

It was one of those contemporary testimonies to the skill of Mr.
McKinley and Secretary Hay which indicate the verdict of history.

Our later policy was equally sound. It was to prevent any further
territorial encroachments on China by foreign powers, and to
secure the opening of the empire on equal terms to the commerce
of the entire world. On the other hand, the German Government,
exasperated by the murder of its minister at Peking, was at first
inclined to go beyond this, and a speech of the Emperor to his
troops as they were leaving Germany for the seat of war was
hastily construed to mean that they were to carry out a policy of
extermination and confiscation. Even after the first natural
outburst of indignation against the Chinese, it looked as if the
ultimatum presented by the powers would include demands which
could never be met, and would entangle all the powers in a long
and tedious war, leading, perhaps, to a worse catastrophe.
Quietly but vigorously, from first to last, the American policy
was urged by Mr. Conger, American minister at Peking, and by
other representatives of our government abroad; and it was a
happy morning for me when, after efforts many and long continued,
I received at the Berlin Foreign Office the assurance that
Germany would not consider the earlier conditions presented by
the powers to the Chinese Government as "irrevocable." My
constant contention, during interviews at the Foreign Office, had
been that the United States desired as anxiously to see the main
miscreants punished as did any other nation, but that it was of
no use to demand, upon members of the imperial family, and upon
generals in command of great armies, extreme penalties which the
Chinese Government was not strong enough to inflict, or
indemnities which it was not rich enough to pay; that our aim was
not quixotic but practical, and that, in advocating steadily the
"open door" policy, we were laboring quite as much for all other
powers as for ourselves. Of course we were charged in various
quarters with cold-bloodedness, and with merely seeking to
promote our own interest in trade; but the Japanese, who could
understand the question better than the Western powers, steadily
adhered to our policy, and more and more, in its main lines, it
proved to be correct.

On the Fourth of July, 1900, came the celebration of our national
independence at Leipsic, and being asked to respond to the first
regular toast, and, having at my former visit dwelt especially
upon the Presidency, my theme now became the character and
services of the President himself, and it was a pleasure to find
that my statement was received by the German press in a way that
showed a reaction from previous injustice.

During August and September preceding the political campaign
which resulted in Mr. McKinley's reelection I was in the United
States. It was the hottest summer in very many years, and
certainly, within my whole experience, there had been no torrid
heat like that during my visits to Washington. Nearly every one
seemed prostrated by it. Upon arriving at the Arlington Hotel, I
found two old friends unnerved by the temperature, one of them
not daring to risk a sunstroke by going to the train which would
take him to his home in Chicago Retiring to one's room at night,
even in the best-situated hotels, was like entering an oven. The
leading official persons were generally absent, and those who
remained seemed hardly capable of doing business. But there was
one exception. Going to the White House to pay my respects to the
President, I found him the one man in Washington perfectly cool,
serene, and unaffected by the burning heat or by the pressure of
public affairs. Although matters in Cuba, in Porto Rico, in the
Philippines in China, and in the political campaign then going on
must have been constantly in his mind, he had plenty of time,
seemed to take trouble about nothing, and kept me in his office
for a full hour, discussing calmly the various phases of the
situation as they were affected by matters in Germany.

His discussion of public affairs showed the same quiet insight
and strength which I had recognized in him when we first met, in
1884, as delegates at the Chicago National Convention. One thing
during this Washington interview struck me especially: I asked
him if he was to make any addresses during the campaign; he
answered: "No; several of my friends have urged me to do so, but
I shall not. I intend to return to what seems to me the better
policy of the earlier Presidents: the American people have my
administration before them; they have ample material for judging
it, and with them I shall silently leave the whole matter." He
said this in a perfectly simple, quiet way, which showed that he
meant what he said. At the time I regretted his decision; but it
soon became clear that he was right.

At the beginning of the year 1901 came the two-hundredth
anniversary of the founding of the Prussian kingdom.
Representatives of the other governments of the world appeared at
court in full force; and, under instructions from the President,
I tendered his congratulations and best wishes to the monarch, as
follows:

May it please Your Majesty: I am instructed by the President to
present his hearty congratulations on this two-hundredth
anniversary of the founding of the Kingdom of Prussia, and, with
his congratulations, his best wishes for Your Majesty's health
and happiness, as well as the health and happiness of the Royal
Family, and his earnest hopes for the continued prosperity of
Your Majesty's Kingdom and Empire.

At the same time I feel fully authorized to present similar
congratulations and good wishes from the whole people of the
United States. The ties between the two nations, instead of being
weakened by time, have constantly grown stronger. As regards
material interests they are bound together by an enormous
commerce, growing greatly every year: as regards deeper
sentiments, no man acquainted with American History forgets that
the House of Hohenzollern was one of the first European powers to
recognize American Independence; and that it was Frederick the
Great who made that first treaty,--a landmark in the history of
International Law,--the only fault of which was that the world
was not far enough advanced to appreciate it. We also remember
that Germany was the only foreign country which showed decided
sympathy for us during our Civil War--the second struggle for our
national existence.

I also feel fully authorized, in view of Your Majesty's interest
in everything that ministers to the highest interests of
civilization, to express thanks for service which the broad
policy of Germany has rendered the United States in throwing open
to American scholars its Universities, its Technical Schools, its
conservatories of Art, its Museums, and its Libraries. Every
University and advanced school of learning in the United States
recognizes the fact that Germany has been our main foreign
teacher, as regards the higher ranges of Science, Literature, and
Art, and I may be allowed to remind Your Majesty, that while
Great Britain is justly revered by us as our mother country
Germany is beginning to hold to us a similar relation, not only
as the fatherland of a vast number of American citizens, but as
one of the main sources of the intellectual culture spread by our
universities and schools for advanced learning.

Allow me, then, sir, to renew the best wishes of the President
and people of the United States, with their hopes that ever
blessing may attend Your Majesty, the House of Hohenzollern the
Kingdom of Prussia, and the German Empire.


The Emperor in his reply spoke very cordially of the President's
special telegram, which he had received that morning, and then
gave earnest utterance to his belief that the time is coming when
the three great peoples of Germanic descent will stand firmly
together in all the great questions of the world.

The religious ceremonies in the Palace Chapel, with magnificent
music; the banquet, which included pertinent speeches from the
monarchs; and the gala representation at the opera all passed off
well: but, perhaps, that which will dwell longest in my memory
took place at the last. The performance consisted of two pieces:
one a poem glorifying Prussia, recited with music; the other a
play, in four acts, with long, musical interludes, deifying the
great Elector and the house of Hohenzollern. Though splendid in
scenic setting and brilliant in presentation it was very long,
and the ambassadors' box was crowded and hot. In the midst of it
all the French ambassador, the Marquis de Noailles, one of the
most suave courteous, and placid of men, quietly said to me, with
inimitable gravity, "What a bore this must be to those who
understand German! (Comme ca doit etre ennuyeux a ceux qui
correprennent l'Allemand!)" This sudden revelation of a lower
depth of boredom--from one who could not understand a word of the
play--was worthy of his ancestors in the days of Saint-Simon and
Dangeau.

During the following summer two great sorrows befell me and mine,
but there is nothing to be here chronicled save that in this, as
in previous trials, I took refuge in work which seemed to be
worthy. The diplomatic service in summer is not usually exacting,
especially when one has, as I had, thoroughly loyal and judicious
embassy secretaries. As in a former bereavement I had turned to a
study of the character and services of John of Portugal and his
great successors in the age of discovery, so now I turned to Fra
Paolo Sarpi and the good fight he fought for Venice and humanity.
To my large collection of books on the subject, made mainly in
Italy, I added much from the old book-shops of Germany, and with
these revised my Venetian studies. An old dream of mine had been
to bring out a small book on Fra Paolo: now I sought, more
modestly, to prepare an essay.[6] The work was good for me.
Contemplation of that noblest of the three great Italians between
the Renaissance and the Resurrection of Italy did something to
lift me above sorrow; reading his words, uttered so calmly in all
the storm and stress of his time, soothed me. Viewed from my
work-table on the island of Rugen, the world became less dark as
I thought upon this hero of three centuries ago.


[6] This essay has since been published in the "Atlantic Monthly"
of January and February, 1904.

{Included etext: LibraryBlog}
****************************************************************
THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY: A MAGAZINE OF Literature, Science, Art, and
Politics VOLUME XCIII {From January, 1904--Number DLV. and
February, 1904--Number DLVI.}

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside
Press, Cambridge 1904


COPYRIGHT, 1903 AND 1904 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. Electrotyped and
Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company

FRA PAOLO SARPI.

I.

A thoughtful historian tells us that, between the fourteenth
century and the nineteenth, Italy produced three great men. As
the first of these, he names Machiavelli, who, he says, "taught
the world to understand political despotism and to hate it;" as
the second, he names Sarpi who "taught the world after what
manner the Holy Spirit guides the Councils of the Church;" and as
the third, Galileo, who "taught the world what dogmatic theology
is worth when it can be tested by science."

I purpose now to present the second of these. As a MAN, he was by
far the greatest of the three and, in various respects, the most
interesting, for he not only threw a bright light into the most
important general council of the Church and revealed to
Christendom the methods which there prevailed,--in a book which
remains one of the half-dozen classic histories of the
world,--but he fought the most bitter fight for humanity against
the papacy ever known in any Latin nation, and won a victory by
which the whole world has profited ever since. Moreover, he was
one of the two foremost Italian statesmen since the Middle Ages,
the other being Cavour.

He was born at Venice in 1552, and it may concern those who care
to note the subtle interweaving of the warp and woof of history
that the birth year of this most resourceful foe that Jesuitism
ever had was the death year of St. Francis Xavier, the noblest of
Jesuit apostles.

It may also interest those who study the more evident evolution
of cause and effect in human affairs to note that, like most
strong men, he had a strong mother; that while his father was a
poor shopkeeper who did little and died young, his mother was
wise and serene.

From his earliest boyhood, he showed striking gifts and
characteristics. He never forgot a face once seen, could take in
the main contents of a page at a glance, spoke little, rarely ate
meat, and, until his last years, never drank wine.

Brought up, after the death of his father, first by his uncle, a
priest, and then by Capella, a Servite monk, in something better
than the usual priestly fashion, he became known, while yet in
his boyhood, as a theological prodigy. Disputations in his youth,
especially one at Mantua, where, after the manner of the time, he
successfully defended several hundred theses against all comers,
attracted wide attention, so that the Bishop gave him a
professorship, and the Duke, who, like some other crowned heads
of those days,--notably Henry VIII. and James I.,--liked to
dabble in theology, made him a court theologian. But the duties
of this position were uncongenial: a flippant duke, fond of
putting questions which the wisest theologian could not answer,
and laying out work which the young scholar evidently thought
futile, apparently wearied him. He returned to the convent of the
Servites at Venice, and became, after a few years' novitiate, a
friar, changing, at the same time, his name; so that, having been
baptized Peter, he now became Paul.

His career soon seemed to reveal another and underlying cause of
his return: he evidently felt the same impulse which stirred his
contemporaries, Lord Bacon and Galileo; for he began devoting
himself to the whole range of scientific and philosophical
studies, especially to mathematics, physics, astronomy, anatomy,
and physiology. In these he became known as an authority, and
before long was recognized as such through out Europe. It is
claimed, and it is not improbable, that he anticipated Harvey in
discovering the circulation of the blood, and that he was the
forerunner of noted discoveries in magnetism. Unfortunately the
loss of the great mass of his papers by the fire which destroyed
his convent in 1769 forbids any full estimate of his work; but it
is certain that among those who sought his opinion and advice
were such great discoverers as Acquapendente, Galileo,
Torricelli, and Gilbert of Colchester, and that every one of
these referred to him as an equal, and indeed as a master. It
seems also established that it was he who first discovered the
valves of the veins, that he made known the most beautiful
function of the iris,--its contractility,--and that various
surmises of his regarding heat, light, and sound have since been
developed into scientific truths. It is altogether likely that,
had he not been drawn from scientific pursuits by his duties as a
statesman, he would have ranked among the greater investigators
and discoverers, not only of Italy, but of the world.

He also studied political and social problems, and he arrived at
one conclusion which, though now trite, was then novel,--the
opinion that the aim of punishment should not be vengeance, but
reformation. In these days and in this country, where one of the
most serious of evils is undue lenity to crime, this opinion may
be imputed to him as a fault; but in those days, when torture was
the main method in procedure and in penalty, his declaration was
honorable both to his head and heart.

With all his devotion to books, he found time to study men. Even
at school, he had seemed to discern those who would win control.
They discerned something in him also; so that close relations
were formed between him and such leaders as Contarini and
Morosini, with whom he afterwards stood side by side in great
emergencies.

Important missions were entrusted to him. Five times he visited
Rome to adjust perplexing differences between the papal power and
various interests at Venice. He was rapidly advanced through most
of the higher offices in his order, and in these he gave a series
of decisions which won the respect of all entitled to form an
opinion.

Naturally he was thought of for high place in the Church, and was
twice presented for a bishopric; but each time he was rejected at
Rome,--partly from family claims of less worthy candidates,
partly from suspicions regarding his orthodoxy. It was objected
that he did not find the whole doctrine of the Trinity in the
first verse of Genesis, that he corresponded with eminent
heretics of England and Germany, that he was not averse to
reforms, that, in short, he was not inclined to wallow in the
slime from which had crawled forth such huge incarnations of evil
as John XXIII., Julius II., Sixtus IV., and Alexander VI.

His orthodox detractors have been wont to represent him as
seeking vengeance for his non-promotion; but his after career
showed amply that personal grievances had little effect upon him.
It is indeed not unlikely that when he saw bishoprics for which
he knew himself well fitted given as sops to poor creatures
utterly unfit in morals or intellect, he may have had doubts
regarding the part taken by the Almighty in selecting them; but
he was reticent, and kept on with his work. In his cell at Santa
Fosca, he quietly and steadily devoted himself to his cherished
studies; but he continued to study more than books or inanimate
nature. He was neither a bookworm nor a pedant. On his various
missions he met and discoursed with churchmen and statesmen
concerned in the greatest transactions of his time, notably at
Mantua with Oliva, secretary of one of the greatest ecclesiastics
at the Council of Trent; at Milan with Cardinal Borromeo, by far
the noblest of all who sat in that assemblage during its eighteen
years; in Rome and elsewhere with Arnauld Ferrier, who had been
French Ambassador at the Council, Cardinal Severina, head of the
Inquisition, Castagna, afterward Pope Urban VII., and Cardinal
Bellarmine, afterward Sarpi's strongest and noblest opponent.

Nor was this all. He was not content with books or conversations;
steadily he went on collecting, collating, and testing original
documents bearing upon the great events of his time. The result
of all this the world was to see later.

He had arrived at middle life and won wide recognition as a
scholar, scientific investigator, and jurist, when there came the
supreme moment of a struggle which had involved Europe for
centuries,--a struggle interesting not only the Italy and Europe
of those days, but universal humanity for all time.

During the period following the fall of the Roman Empire of the
West there had been evolved the temporal power of the Roman
Bishop. It had many vicissitudes. Sometimes, as in the days of
St. Leo and St. Gregory, it based its claims upon noble
assertions of right and justice, and sometimes, as in the hands
of pontiffs like Innocent VIII. and Paul V., it sought to force
its way by fanaticism. Sometimes it strengthened its authority by
real services to humanity, and sometimes by such monstrous frauds
as the Forged Decretals. Sometimes, as under Popes like Gregory
VII. and Innocent III., it laid claim to the mastership of the
world, and sometimes, as with the majority of the pontiffs during
the two centuries before the Reformation, it became mainly the
appanage of a party or faction or family.

Throughout all this history, there appeared in the Church two
great currents of efficient thought. On one side had been
developed a theocratic theory, giving the papacy a power supreme
in temporal as well as in spiritual matters throughout the world.
Leaders in this during the Middle Ages were St. Thomas Aquinas
and the Dominicans; leaders in Sarpi's days were the Jesuits,
represented especially in the treatises of Bellarmine at Rome and
in the speeches of Laynez at the Council of Trent.[1]


[1] This has been admirably shown by N. R. F. Brown in his
Taylorian Lecture, pages 229-234, in volume for 1889-99.


But another theory, hostile to the despotism of the Church over
the State, had been developed through the Middle Ages and the
Renaissance;--it had been strengthened mainly by the utterances
of such men as Dante, aegidio Colonna, John of Paris, Ockham,
Marsilio of Padua, and Laurentius Valla. Sarpi ranged himself
with the latter of these forces. Though deeply religious, he
recognized the God-given right of earthly governments to
discharge their duties independent of church control.

Among the many centres of this struggle was Venice. She was
splendidly religious--as religion was then understood. She was
made so by her whole environment. From the beginning she had been
a seafaring power, and seafaring men, from their constant wrestle
with dangers ill understood, are prone to seek and find
supernatural forces. Nor was this all. Later, when she had become
rich, powerful, luxurious, licentious, and refractory to the
priesthood, her most powerful citizens felt a need of atoning for
their many sins by splendid religious foundations. So her people
came to live in an atmosphere of religious observance, and the
bloom and fruitage of their religious hopes and fears are seen in
the whole history of Venetian art,--from the rude sculptures of
Torcello and the naive mosaics of San Marco to the glowing
altarpieces and ceilings of John Bellini, Titian, and Tintoretto
and the illuminations of the Grimani Psalter. No class in Venice
rose above this environment. Doges and Senators were as
susceptible to it as were the humblest fishermen on the Lido. In
every one of those glorious frescoes in the corridors and halls
of the Ducal Palace which commemorate the victories of the
Republic, the triumphant Doge or Admiral or General is seen on
his knees making acknowledgment of the divine assistance. On
every Venetian sequin, from the days when Venice was a power
throughout the earth to that fatal year when the young Bonaparte
tossed the Republic over to the House of Austria, the Doge,
crowned and robed, kneels humbly before the Saviour, the Virgin,
or St. Mark. In that vast Hall of the Five Hundred, the most
sumptuous room in the world, there is spread above the heads of
the Doge and Senators and Councilors, as an incentive to the
discharge of their duties on earth, a representation of the
blessed in Heaven.

From highest to lowest, the Venetians lived, moved, and had their
being in this religious environment, and, had their Republic been
loosely governed, its external policy would have been largely
swayed by this all-pervading religious feeling, and would have
become the plaything of the Roman Court. But a democracy has
never been maintained save by the delegation of great powers to
its chosen leaders. It was the remark of one of the foremost
American Democrats of the nineteenth century, a man who received
the highest honors which his party could bestow, that the
Constitution of the United States was made, not to promote
Democracy, but to check it. This statement is true, and it is as
true of the Venetian Constitution as of the American.[1]


[1] See Horatio Seymour's noted article in the North American
Review.


But while both the republics recognized the necessity of curbing
Democracy, the difference between the means employed was
world-wide. The founders of the American Republic gave vast
powers and responsibilities to a president and unheard-of
authority to a supreme court; in the Venetian Republic the Doge
was gradually stripped of power, but there was evolved the
mysterious and unlimited authority of the Senate and Council of
Ten.

In these sat the foremost Venetians, thoroughly imbued with the
religious spirit of their time; but, religious as they were, they
were men of the world, trained in the polities of all Europe and
especially of Italy.

In a striking passage, Guizot has shown how the Crusaders who
went to the Orient by way of Italy and saw the papacy near at
hand came back skeptics. This same influence shaped the statesmen
of Venice. The Venetian Ambassadors were the foremost in Europe.
Their Relations are still studied as the clearest, shrewdest, and
wisest statements regarding the men and events in Europe at their
time. All were noted for skill; but the most skillful were kept
on duty at Rome. There was the source of danger. The Doges,
Senators, and controlling Councilors had, as a rule, served in
these embassies, and they had formed lucid judgments as to
Italian courts in general and as to the Roman Court in
particular. No men had known the Popes and the Curia more
thoroughly. They had seen Innocent VIII. buy the papacy for
money. They had been at the Vatican when Alexander VI. had won
renown as a secret murderer. They had seen, close at hand, the
merciless cruelty of Julius II. They had carefully noted the
crimes of Sixtus IV., which culminated in the assassination of
Julian de' Medici beneath the dome of Florence at the moment the
Host was uplifted. They had sat near Leo X. while he enjoyed the
obscenities of the Calandria and the Mandragora,--plays which, in
the most corrupt of modern cities, would, in our day, be stopped
by the police. No wonder that, in one of their dispatches, they
speak of Rome as "the cloaca of the world."[1]


[1] For Sixtus IV. and his career, with the tragedy in the
Cathedral of Florence see Villari's Life of Machiavelli, English
Edition, vol. ii. pp. 341, 342. For the passages in the
dispatches referred to, vide ibid. vol. i. p. 198.


Naturally, then, while their religion showed itself in wonderful
monuments of every sort, their practical sense was shown by a
steady opposition to papal encroachments.

Of this combination of zeal for religion with hostility to
ecclesiasticism we have striking examples throughout the history
of the Republic. While, in every other European state, cardinals,
bishops, priests, and monks were given leading parts in civil
administration and, in some states, a monopoly of civil honors,
the Republic of Venice not only excluded all ecclesiastics from
such posts, but, in cases which touched church interests, she
excluded even the relatives of ecclesiastics. When church
authority decreed that commerce should not be maintained with
infidels and heretics, the Venetian merchants continued to deal
with Turks, Pagans, Germans, Englishmen, and Dutchmen as before.
When the Church decreed that the taking of interest for money was
sin, and great theologians published in Venice some of their
mightiest treatises demonstrating this view from Holy Scripture
and the Fathers, the Venetians continued borrowing and lending
money on usance. When efforts were made to enforce that
tremendous instrument for the consolidation of papal power, the
bull In Coena Domini, Venice evaded and even defied it. When the
Church frowned upon anatomical dissections, the Venetians allowed
Andreas Vesalius to make such dissections at their University of
Padua. When Sixtus V., the strongest of all the Popes, had
brought all his powers, temporal and spiritual, to bear against
Henry IV. of France as an excommunicated heretic, and seemed
ready to hurl the thunderbolts of the Church against any power
which should recognize him, the Venetian Republic not only
recognized him, but treated his Ambassador with especial
courtesy. When the other Catholic powers, save France, yielded to
papal mandates and sent no representatives to the coronation of
James I. of England, Venice was there represented. When Pope
after Pope issued endless diatribes against the horrors of
toleration, the Venetians steadily tolerated in their several
sorts of worship Jews and Greeks, Mohammedans and Armenians, with
Protestants of every sort who came to them on business. When the
Roman Index forbade the publication of most important works of
leading authors, Venice demanded and obtained for her printers
rights which were elsewhere denied.

As to the religious restrictions which touched trade, the
Venetians in the public councils, and indeed the people at large,
had come to know perfectly what the papal theory meant,--with
some of its promoters, fanaticism, but with the controlling power
at Rome, revenue, revenue to be derived from retailing
dispensations to infringe the holy rules.

This peculiar antithesis--nowhere more striking than at Venice,
on the one side, religious fears and hopes; on the other, keen
insight into the ways of ecclesiasticism--led to peculiar
compromises. The bankers who had taken interest upon money, the
merchants who had traded with Moslems and heretics, in their last
hours frequently thought it best to perfect their title to
salvation by turning over large estates to the Church. Under the
sway of this feeling, and especially of the terrors infused by
priests at deathbeds, mortmain had become in Venice, as in many
other parts of the world, one of the most serious of evils. Thus
it was that the clergy came to possess between one fourth and one
third of the whole territory of the Republic, and in its Bergamo
district more than one half; and all this was exempt from
taxation. Hence it was that the Venetian Senate found it
necessary to devise a legal check which should make such
absorption of estates by the Church more and more difficult.

There was a second cause of trouble. In that religious atmosphere
of Venice, monastic orders of every sort grew luxuriantly, not
only absorbing more and more land to be held by the dead hand,
thus escaping the public burdens, but ever absorbing more and
more men and women, and thus depriving the state of any healthy
and normal service from them. Here, too, the Senate thought it
best to interpose a check: it insisted that all new structures
for religious orders must be authorized by the State.

Yet another question flamed forth. Of the monks of every sort
swarming through the city, many were luxurious and some were
criminal. On these last, the Venetian Senate determined to lay
its hands, and in the first years of the seventeenth century all
these questions, and various other matters distasteful to the
Vatican, culminated in the seizure and imprisonment of two
ecclesiastics charged with various high crimes,--among these rape
and murder.

There had just come to the papal throne Camillo Borghese, Paul
V.,--strong, bold, determined, with the highest possible theory
of his duties and of his position. In view of his duty toward
himself, he lavished the treasures of the faithful upon his
family, until it became the richest which had yet risen in Rome;
in view of his duty toward the Church, he built superbly, and an
evidence of the spirit in which he wrought is his name, in
enormous letters, still spread across the facade of St. Peter's.
As to his position, he accepted fully the theories and practices
of his boldest predecessors, and in this he had good warrant; for
St. Thomas Aquinas and Bellarmine had furnished him with
convincing arguments that he was divinely authorized to rule the
civil powers of Italy and of the world.[1]


[1] For details of these cases of the two monks, see Pascolato.
Fra Paolo Sarpi, Milano, 1893, pp. 126-128. For the Borghese
avarice, see Ranke's Popes, vol. iii. pp. 9-20. For the
development of Pope Paul's theory of government, see Ranke, vol.
ii. p. 345, and note in which Bellarmine's doctrine is cited
textually; also Bellarmine's Selbstbiographie, herausgegeben von
Dollinger und Rensch Bonn, 1887. pp. 181, et seq.


Moreover there was, in his pride, something akin to fanaticism.
He had been elected by one of those sudden movements, as well
known in American caucuses as in papal conclaves, when, after a
deadlock, all the old candidates are thrown over, and the choice
suddenly falls on a new man. The cynical observer may point to
this as showing that the laws governing elections, under such
circumstances, are the same, whether in party caucuses or in
church councils; but Paul, in this case, saw the direct
intervention of the Almighty, and his disposition to magnify his
office was vastly increased thereby. He was especially strenuous,
and one of his earliest public acts was to send to the gallows a
poor author, who, in an unpublished work, had spoken severely
regarding one of Paul's predecessors.

The Venetian laws checking mortmain, taxing church property, and
requiring the sanction of the Republic before the erection of new
churches and monasteries greatly angered him; but the crowning
vexation was the seizure of the two clerics. This aroused him
fully. He at once sent orders that they be delivered up to him,
that apology be made for the past and guarantees given for the
future, and notice was served that, in case the Republic did not
speedily obey these orders, the Pope would excommunicate its
leaders and lay an interdict upon its people. It was indeed a
serious contingency. For many years the new Pope had been known
as a hard, pedantic ecclesiastical lawyer, and now that he had
arrived at the supreme power, he had evidently determined to
enforce the high mediaeval supremacy of the Church over the
State. Everything betokened his success. In France he had broken
down all opposition to the decrees of the Council of Trent. In
Naples, when a magistrate had refused to disobey the civil law at
the bidding of priests, and the viceroy had supported the
magistrate, Pope Paul had forced the viceroy and magistrate to
comply with his will by threats of excommunication. In every part
of Italy,--in Malta, in Savoy, in Parma, in Lucca, in Genoa,--and
finally even in Spain, he had pettifogged, bullied, threatened,
until his opponents had given way. Everywhere he was triumphant;
and while he was in the mood which such a succession of triumphs
would give he turned toward Venice.[1]


[1] For letters showing the craven submission of Philip III. of
Spain at this time, see Cornet, Paolo V. e la Republica Veneta,
Vienna, 1859, p. 285.


There was little indeed to encourage the Venetians to resist;
for, while the interests of other European powers were largely
the same as theirs, current political intrigues seemed likely to
bring Spain and even France into a league with the Vatican.

To a people so devoted to commerce, yet so religious, the threat
of an interdict was serious indeed. All church services were to
cease; the people at large, no matter how faithful, were to be as
brute beasts,--not to be legally married,--not to be consoled by
the sacraments,--not to be shriven, and virtually not to be
buried; other Christian peoples were to be forbidden all dealings
with them, under pain of excommunication; their commerce was to
be delivered over to the tender mercies of any and every other
nation; their merchant ships to be as corsairs; their cargoes,
the legitimate prey of all Christendom; and their people, on sea
and land, to be held as enemies of the human race. To this was
added, throughout the whole mass of the people, a vague sense of
awful penalties awaiting them in the next world. Despite all
this, the Republic persisted in asserting its right.

Just at this moment came a diplomatic passage between Pope and
Senate like a farce before a tragedy, and it has historical
significance, as showing what resourceful old heads were at the
service of either side. The Doge Grimani having died, the Vatican
thought to score a point by promptly sending notice through its
Nuncio to Venice that no new election of a Doge could take place
if forbidden by the Pope, and that, until the Senate had become
obedient to the papacy, no such election would be sanctioned. But
the Senate, having through its own Ambassador received a useful
hint, was quite equal to the occasion. It at once declined to
receive this or any dispatch from the Pope on the plea, made with
redundant courtesy and cordiality, that, there being no Doge,
there was no person in Venice great enough to open it. They next
as politely declined to admit the papal Nuncio on the ground that
there was nobody worthy to receive him. Then they proceeded to
elect a Doge who could receive both Nuncio and message,--a sturdy
opponent of the Vatican pretensions, Leonardo Donato.

The Senate now gave itself entirely to considering ways and means
of warding off the threatened catastrophe. Its first step was to
consult Sarpi. His answer was prompt and pithy. He advised two
things: first, to prevent, at all hazards, any publication of the
papal bulls in Venice or any obedience to them; secondly, to hold
in readiness for use at any moment an appeal to a future Council
of the Church.

Of these two methods, the first would naturally seem by far the
more difficult. So it was not in reality. In the letter which
Sarpi presented to the Doge, he devoted less than four lines to
the first and more than fourteen pages to the second. As to the
first remedy, severe as it was and bristling with difficulties,
it was, as he claimed, a simple, natural, straightforward use of
police power. As to the second, the appeal to a future Council
was to the Vatican as a red flag to a bull. The very use of it
involved excommunication. To harden and strengthen the Doge and
Senate in order that they might consider it as an ultimate
possibility, Sarpi was obliged to show from the Scriptures, the
Fathers, the Councils, the early Popes, that the appeal to a
Council was a matter of right. With wonderful breadth of
knowledge and clearness of statement he made his points and
answered objections. To this day, his letter remains a
masterpiece.[1]


[1] For Sarpi's advice to the Doge, see Bianchi Giovini, vol. i.
pp. 216, et seq. The document is given fully in the Lettere di F.
P. S., Firenze, 1863, vol. i. pp. 17, et seq.; also in Machi,
Storia del Consiglio dei Dieci, cap. xxiv., where the bull of
excommunication is also given.


The Republic utterly refused to yield, and now, in 1606, Pope
Paul launched his excommunication and interdict. In meeting them,
the Senate took the course laid down by Sarpi. The papal Nuncio
was notified that the Senate would receive no paper from the
Pope; all ecclesiasties, from the Patriarch down to the lowest
monk, were forbidden, under the penalties of high treason, to
make public or even to receive any paper whatever from the
Vatican; additional guards were placed at the city gates, with
orders to search every wandering friar or other suspicious person
who might, by any possibility, bring in a forbidden missive; a
special patrol was kept, night and day, to prevent any posting of
the forbidden notices on walls or houses; any person receiving or
finding one was to take it immediately to the authorities, under
the severest penalties, and any person found concealing such
documents was to be punished by death.

At first some of the clergy were refractory. The head of the
whole church establishment of Venice, the Patriarch himself, gave
signs of resistance; but the Senate at once silenced him. Sundry
other bishops and high ecclesiastics made a show of opposition;
and they were placed in confinement. One of them seeming
reluctant to conduct the usual church service, the Senate sent an
executioner to erect a gibbet before his door. Another, having
asked that he be allowed to await some intimation from the Holy
Spirit, received answer that the Senate had already received
directions from the Holy Spirit to hang any person resisting
their decree. The three religious orders which had showed most
opposition--Jesuits, Theatins, and Capuchins--were in a
semi-polite manner virtually expelled from the Republic.[2]


[2] For interesting details regarding the departure of the
Jesuits, see Cornet, Paolo V. e la Republica Veneta, pp. 277-279.


Not the least curious among the results of this state of things
was the war of pamphlets. From Rome, Bologna, and other centres
of thought, even from Paris and Frankfort, polemic tractates
rained upon the Republic. The vast majority of their authors were
on the side of the Vatican, and of this majority the leaders were
the two cardinals so eminent in learning and logic, Bellarmine
and Baronius; but, single-handed, Sarpi was, by general consent,
a match for the whole opposing force.[3]


[3] In the library of Cornell University are no less than nine
quartos filled with selected examples of these polemics on both
sides.


Of all the weapons then used, the most effective throughout
Europe was the solemn protest drawn by Sarpi and issued by the
Doge. It was addressed nominally to the Venetian ecclesiastics,
but really to Christendom, and both as to matter and manner it
was Father Paul at his best. It was weighty, lucid, pungent, and
deeply in earnest,--in every part asserting fidelity to the
Church and loyalty to the papacy, but setting completely at
naught the main claim of Pope Paul: the Doge solemnly declaring
himself "a prince who, in temporal matters, recognizes no
superior save the Divine Majesty."

The victory of the friar soon began to be recognized far and
near. Men called him by the name afterward so generally given
him,--the "terribile frate." The Vatican seemed paralyzed. None
of its measures availed, and it was hurt, rather than helped, by
its efforts to pester and annoy Venice at various capitals. At
Rome, it burned Father Paul's books and declared him
excommunicated; it even sought to punish his printer by putting
into the Index not only all works that he had ever printed, but
all that he might ever print. At Vienna, the papal Nuncio thought
to score a point by declaring that he would not attend a certain
religious function in case the Venetian Ambassador should appear;
whereupon the Venetian announced that he had taken physic and
regretted that he could not be present,--whereat all Europe
laughed.

Judicious friends in various European cabinets now urged both
parties to recede or to compromise. France and Spain both
proffered their good offices. The offer of France was finally
accepted, and the French Ambassador was kept running between the
Ducal Palace and the Vatican until people began laughing at him
also. The emissaries of His Holiness begged hard that, at least,
appearances might be saved; that the Republic would undo some of
its measures before the interdict was removed, or at least would
seem to do so, and especially that it would withdraw its refusals
before the Pope withdrew his penalties. All in vain. The
Venetians insisted that they had committed no crime and had
nothing to retract. The Vatican then urged that the Senate should
consent to receive absolution for its resistance to the Pope's
authority. This the Senate steadily refused; it insisted, "Let
His Holiness put things as before, and we will put things as
before; as to his absolution, we do not need it or want it; to
receive it would be to acknowledge that we have been in the
wrong." Even the last poor sop of all was refused: the Senate
would have no great "function" to celebrate the termination of
the interdict; they would not even go to the mass which Cardinal
Joyeuse celebrated on that occasion. The only appearance of
concession which the Republic made was to give up the two
ecclesiastics to the French Ambassador as a matter of courtesy to
the French king; and when this was done, the Ambassador delivered
them to the Pope; but Venice especially reserved all the rights
she had exercised. All the essential demands of the papacy were
refused, and thus was forever ended the papal power of laying an
interdict upon a city or a people. From that incubus,
Christendom, thanks to Father Paul and to Venice, was at last and
forever free.

The Vatican did, indeed, try hard to keep its old claim in being.
A few years after its defeat by Fra Paolo, it endeavored to
reassert in Spain the same authority which had been so humbly
acknowledged there a few years before. It was doubtless felt that
this most pious of all countries, which had previously been so
docile, and which had stood steadily by the Vatican against
Venice in the recent struggle, would again set an example of
submission. Never was there a greater mistake: the Vatican
received from Spanish piety a humiliating refusal.

Next it tried the old weapons against the little government at
Turin. For many generations the House of Savoy had been dutifully
submissive to religious control; nowhere out of Spain had heresy
been treated more cruelly; yet here, too, the Vatican claim was
spurned. But the final humiliation took place some years later
under Urban VIII.,--the same pontiff who wrecked papal
infallibility on Galileo's telescope. He tried to enforce his
will on the state of Lucca, which, in the days of Pope Paul, had
submitted to the Vatican decrees abjectly; but that little
republic now seized the weapons which Sarpi had devised, and
drove the papal forces out of the field: the papal
excommunication was, even by this petty government, annulled in
Venetian fashion and even less respectfully.[1]


[1] The proofs--and from Catholic sources--that it was the Pope
who condemned Galileo's doctrine of the earth's movement about
the sun, and not merely the Congregation of the Index, the
present writer has given in his History of the Warfare of Science
with Theology, vol. i. chap. iii.


Thus the world learned how weak the Vatican hold had become. Even
Pope Paul learned it, and, from being the most strenuous of
modern pontiffs, he became one of the most moderate in everything
save in the enrichment of his family. Thus ended the last serious
effort to coerce a people by an interdict, and so, one might
suppose, would end the work of Father Paul. Not so. There was to
come a second chapter in his biography, more instructive,
perhaps, than the first,--a chapter which has lasted until our
own day.                             A. D. White.


{February, 1904, number DLVI.} II.


The Venetian Republic showed itself duly grateful to Sarpi. The
Senate offered him splendid presents and entitled him "Theologian
of Venice." The presents he refused, but the title with its duty,
which was mainly to guard the Republic against the encroachments
of the Vatican, he accepted, and his life in the monastery of
Santa Fosca went on quietly, simply, laboriously, as before. The
hatred now felt for him at Rome was unbounded. It corresponded to
the gratitude at Venice. Every one saw his danger, and he well
knew it. Potentates were then wont to send assassins on long
errands, and the arm of the Vatican was especially far-reaching
and merciless. It was the period when Pius V, the Pope whom the
Church afterwards proclaimed a saint, commissioned an assassin to
murder Queen Elizabeth.[1]


[1] This statement formerly led to violent denials by
ultramontane champions; but in 1870 it was made by Lord Acton, a
Roman Catholic, one of the most learned of modern historians, and
when it was angrily denied, he quietly cited the official life of
Pope Pius in the Acta Sanctorum, published by the highest church
authority. This was final; denial ceased, and the statement is no
longer questioned. For other proofs in the line of Lord Acton's
citation, see Bellarmine's Selbstbiographie, cited in a previous
article, pp. 306, et seq.


But there was in Father Paul a trust in Providence akin to
fatalism. Again and again he was warned, and among those who are
said to have advised him to be on his guard against papal
assassins was no less a personage than his greatest controversial
enemy,--Cardinal Bellarmine. It was believed by Sarpi's friends
that Bellarmine's Scotch ideas of duty to humanity prevailed over
his Roman ideas of fealty to the Vatican, and we may rejoice in
the hope that his nobler qualities did really assert themselves
against the casuistry of his brother prelates which sanctioned
assassination.

These warnings were soon seen to be well founded. On a pleasant
evening in October, 1607, a carefully laid trap was sprung.
Returning from his day's work at the Ducal Palace, Father Paul,
just as he had crossed the little bridge of Santa Fosca before
reaching his convent, was met by five assassins. Two of his usual
attendants had been drawn off by the outburst of a fire in the
neighborhood; the other two were old men who proved useless. The
place was well chosen. The descent from the bridge was so narrow
that all three were obliged to march in single file, and just at
this point these ruffians from Rome sprang upon him in the dusk,
separated him from his companions, and gave him, in a moment,
fifteen dagger thrusts, two in his throat and one--a fearful gash
--on the side of his head, and then, convinced that they had
killed him, escaped to their boats, only a few paces distant.

The victim lingered long in the hospital, but his sound
constitution and abstemious habits stood him in good stead. Very
important among the qualities which restored him to health were
his optimism and cheerfulness. An early manifestation of the
first of these was seen when, on regaining consciousness, he
called for the stiletto which had been drawn from the main wound
and, running his fingers along the blade, said cheerily to his
friends, "It is not filed." What this meant, any one knows who
has seen in various European collections the daggers dating from
the "ages of faith" cunningly filed or grooved to hold poison.[1]


[1] There is a remarkable example of a beautiful dagger, grooved
to contain poison, in the imperial collection of arms at Vienna.


As an example of the second of these qualities, we may take his
well-known reply when, to the surgeon dressing the wound made by
the "style" or stiletto,--who spoke of its "extravagance,"
rudeness, and yet ineffectiveness,--Fra Paolo quietly answered
that in these characteristics could be recognized the style of
the Roman Curia.

Meantime the assassins had found their way back to Rome, and were
welcomed with open arms; but it is some comfort to know that
later, when such conscience as there was throughout Italy and
Europe showed intense disgust at the proceeding, the Roman Court
treated them coldly and even severely.

The Republic continued in every way to show Sarpi its sympathy
and gratitude. It made him many splendid offer, which he refused;
but two gifts he accepted. One was full permission to explore the
Venetian archives, and the other was a little doorway, cut
through the garden wall of his monastery, enabling him to reach
his gondola without going through the narrow and tortuous path he
had formerly taken on his daily journey to the public offices.
This humble portal still remains. Beneath few triumphal arches
has there ever passed as great or as noble a conqueror.[2]


[2] The present writer has examined with care the spot where the
attack was made, and found that never was a scoundrelly plot
better conceived or more fiendishly executed. He also visited
what was remaining of the convent in April, 1902, and found the
little door as serviceable as when it was made.


Efforts were also made to cajole him,--to induce him to visit
Rome, with fine promises of recognition and honor, and with
solemn assurances that no harm should come to him; but he was too
wise to yield. Only a few years previously he had seen Giordano
Bruno lured to Rome and burned alive on the Campo dei Fiori. He
had seen his friend and correspondent, Fra Fulgentio Manfredi,
yield to similar allurements and accept a safe conduct to Rome,
which, though it solemnly guaranteed him against harm, proved as
worthless as that of John Huss at the Council of Constance; the
Inquisition torturing him to death on the spot where, six years
earlier, it had burned Bruno. He had seen his friend, the
Archdeacon Ribetti, drawn within the clutch of the Vatican, only
to die of "a most painful colic" immediately after dining with a
confidential chamberlain of the Pope, and, had he lived a few
months longer, he would have seen his friend and confidant,
Antonio de Dominis, Archbishop of Spalato, to whom he had
entrusted a copy of his most important work, enticed to Rome and
put to death by the Inquisition. Though the Vatican exercised a
strong fascination over its enemies, against Father Paul it was
powerless; he never yielded to it, but kept the even tenor of his
way.[3]


[3] A copy of Manfredi's "safe conduct" is given by Castellani,
Lettere Inedite di F. P. S., p. 12, note. Nothing could be more
explicit.


In the dispatches which now passed, comedy was mingled with
tragedy. Very unctuous was the expression by His Holiness of his
apprehensions regarding "dangers to the salvation" and of his
"fears for the souls" of the Venetian Senators, if they persisted
in asserting their own control of their own state. Hardly less
touching were the fears expressed by the good Oratorian, Cardinal
Baronius, that "a judgment might be brought upon the Republic" if
it declined to let the Vatican have its way. But these
expressions were not likely to prevail with men who had dealt
with Machiavelli.

Uncompromising as ever, Father Paul continued to write letters
and publish treatises which clenched more and more firmly into
the mind of Venice and of Europe the political doctrine of which
he was the apostle,--the doctrine that the State is rightfully
independent of the Church,--and throughout the Christian world he
was recognized as victor.

Nothing could exceed the bitterness of the attacks upon him,
though some of them, at this day, provoke a smile. While efforts
were made to discredit him among scholars by spurious writings or
by interpolations in genuine writings, efforts equally ingenious
were made to arouse popular hostility. One of these was a
painting which represented him writhing amid the flames of hell,
with a legend stating, as a reason for his punishment, that he
had opposed the Holy Father.

Now it was indeed, in the midst of ferocious attacks upon his
reputation and cunning attempts upon his life, that he entered a
new and most effective period of activity. For years, as the
adviser of Venice, he had studied, both as a historian and as a
statesman, the greatest questions which concerned his country,
and especially those which related to the persistent efforts of
the Vatican to encroach upon Venetian self-government. The
results of these studies he had embodied in reports which had
shaped the course of the Republic; and now, his learning and
powers of thought being brought to bear upon the policy of Europe
in general, as affected by similar papal encroachments, he began
publishing a series of treatises, which at once attracted general
attention.[1]


[1] For the extent to which these attacks were carried, see the
large number in the Sarpi collection at the Cornell University
Library, especially volume ix.


First of these, in 1608, came his work on the Interdict. Clearly
and concisely it revealed the nature of the recent struggle, the
baselessness of the Vatican claims, and the solidarity of
interest between Venice and all other European states regarding
the question therein settled. This work of his as a historian
clenched his work as a statesman; from that day forward no nation
has even been seriously threatened with an interdict.

Subsidiary works followed rapidly from his pen, strengthening the
civil power against the clerical; but in 1610 came a treatise,
which marked an epoch,--his History of Ecclesiastical
Benefices.[2] In this he dealt with a problem which had become
very serious, not only in Venice, but in every European state,
showed the process by which vast treasures had been taken from
the control of the civil power and heaped up for ecclesiastical
pomp and intrigue, pointed out special wrongs done by the system
to the Church as well as the State, and advocated a reform which
should restore this wealth to better uses. His arguments spread
widely and sank deep, not only in Italy, but throughout Europe,
and the nineteenth century has seen them applied effectively in
every European country within the Roman obedience.


[2] The old English translation of this book, published in 1736
at Westminster, is by no means a very rare book, and it affords
the general reader perhaps the most accessible means of
understanding Fra Paolo's simplicity, thoroughness, and vigor.


In 1611 he published his work on the Inquisition at Venice,
presenting historical arguments against the uses which
ecclesiasticism, under papal guidance, had made of that tribunal.
These arguments spread far, and developed throughout Europe those
views of the Inquisition which finally led to its destruction.
Minor treatises followed, dealing with state questions arising
between the Vatican and Venice, each treatise--thoroughly well
reasoned and convincing--having a strong effect on the discussion
of similar public questions in every other European nation.

In 1613 came two books of a high order, each marking an epoch.
The first of these was upon the Right of Sanctuary, and in it
Sarpi led the way, which all modern states have followed, out of
the old, vicious system of sanctioning crime by sheltering
criminals. The cogency of his argument and the value of its
application gained for him an especial tribute by the best
authority on such questions whom Europe had seen,--Hugo Grotius.

Closely connected with this work was that upon the Immunity of
the Clergy. Both this and the previous work were in the same
order of ideas, and the second fastened into the European mind
the reasons why no state can depend upon the Church for the
punishment of clerical criminals. His argument was a triumphant
vindication of Venice in her struggle with Paul V on this point;
but it was more than that. It became the practical guide of all
modern states. Its arguments dissipated the last efforts
throughout Europe to make a distinction, in criminal matters,
between the priestly caste and the world in general.

Among lesser treatises which followed is one which has done much
to shape modern policy regarding public instruction. This was his
book upon the Education given by the Jesuits. One idea which it
enforced sank deep into the minds of all thoughtful men,--his
statement that Jesuit maxims develop "sons disobedient to their
parents, citizens unfaithful to their country, and subjects
undutiful to their sovereign." Jesuit education has indeed been
maintained, and evidences of it may be seen in various European
countries. The traveler in Italy constantly sees in the larger
Italian towns long lines of young men and boys, sallow, thin, and
listless, walking two and two, with priests at each end of the
coffle. These are students taking their exercise, and an American
or Englishman marvels as he remembers the playing fields of his
own country. Youth are thus brought up as milksops, to be
graduated as scape-graces. The strong men who control public
affairs, who lead men and originate measures in the open, are not
bred in Jesuit forcing-houses. Even the Jesuits themselves have
acknowledged this, and perhaps the strongest of all arguments
supplementary to those given by Father Paul were uttered by Padre
Curci, eminent in his day as a Jesuit gladiator, but who realized
finally the impossibility of accomplishing great things with men
moulded by Jesuit methods.

All these works took strong hold upon European thought. Leading
men in all parts of Europe recognized Sarpi as both a great
statesman and a great historian. Among his English friends were
such men as Lord Bacon and Sir Henry Wotton; and his praises have
been sounded by Grotius, by Gibbon, by Hallam, and by Macaulay.
Strong, lucid, these works of Father Paul have always been
especially attractive to those who rejoice in the leadership of a
master mind.

But in 1619 came the most important of all,--a service to
humanity hardly less striking than that which he had rendered in
his battle against the Interdict,--his history of the Council of
Trent.

His close relations to so many of the foremost men of his day and
his long study in public archives and private libraries bore
fruit in this work, which takes rank among the few great,
enduring historical treatises of the world. Throughout, it is
vigorous and witty, but at the same time profound; everywhere it
bears evidences of truthfulness and is pervaded by sobriety of
judgment. Its pictures of the efforts or threats by
representatives of various great powers to break away from the
papacy and establish national churches; its presentation of the
arguments of anti-papal orators on one side and of Laynez and his
satellites on the other; its display of acts and revelations of
pretexts; its penetration into the whole network of intrigue, and
its thorough discussion of underlying principles,--all are
masterly.

Though the name of the author was concealed in an anagram, the
book was felt, by the Vatican party, to be a blow which only one
man could have dealt, and the worst blow which the party had
received since its author had defeated the Interdict at Venice.
Efforts were made, by outcries and calumnies, to discredit the
work, and they have been continued from that day to this, but in
vain. That there must be some gaps and many imperfections in it
is certain; but its general character is beyond the reach of
ultramontane weapons. The blow was felt to be so heavy that the
Jesuit Pallavicini was empowered to write a history of the
Council to counterbalance it, and his work was well done; but
Ranke, the most unprejudiced of judges, comparing the two,
assigns the palm to Father Paul. His book was immediately spread
throughout Europe; but of all the translations, perhaps the most
noteworthy was the English. Sarpi had entrusted a copy of the
original to his friend, Antonio de Dominis, Archbishop of
Spalato, and he, having taken refuge in England, had it
translated there, the authorship being ascribed on the title-page
to "Pietro Soave Polano." This English translation was, in vigor
and pith, worthy of the original. In it can be discerned, as
clearly as in the original, that atmosphere of intrigue and
brutal assertion of power by which the Roman Curia, after packing
the Council with petty Italian bishops, bade defiance to the
Catholic world. This translation, more than all else, has enabled
the English-speaking peoples to understand what was meant by the
Italian historian when he said that Father Paul "taught the world
how the Holy Spirit guides the Great Councils of the Church." It
remains cogent down to this day; after reading it one feels that
such guidance might equally be claimed for Tammany Hall.

Although Father Paul never acknowledged the authorship of the
history of the Council of Trent, and although his original copy,
prepared for the press, with his latest corrections, still
remains buried in the archives at Venice, the whole world knew
that he alone could have written it.

But during all these years, while elaborating opinions on the
weightiest matters of state for the Venetian Senate, and sending
out this series of books which so powerfully influenced the
attitude of his own and after generations toward the Vatican, he
was working with great effect in yet another field. With the
possible exception of Voltaire, he was the most vigorous and
influential letter-writer during the three hundred years which
separated Erasmus from Thomas Jefferson. Voltaire certainly
spread his work over a larger field, lighted it with more wit,
and gained by it more brilliant victories; but as regards
accurate historical knowledge, close acquaintance with statesmen,
familiarity with the best and worst which statesmen could do,
sober judgment and cogent argument, the great Venetian was his
superior. Curiously enough, Sarpi resembles the American
statesman more closely than either of the Europeans. Both he and
Jefferson had the intense practical interest of statesmen, not
only in the welfare of their own countries, but in all the
political and religious problems of their times. Both were keenly
alive to progress in the physical sciences, wherever made. Both
were wont to throw a light veil of humor over very serious
discussions. Both could use, with great effect, curt, caustic
description: Jefferson's letter to Governor Langdon satirizing
the crowned heads of Europe, as he had seen them, has a worthy
pendant in Fra Paolo's pictures of sundry representatives of the
Vatican. In both these writers was a deep earnestness which, at
times, showed itself in prophetic utterances. The amazing
prophecy of Jefferson against American slavery, beginning with
the words, "I tremble when I remember that God is just," which,
in the light of our civil war, seems divinely inspired, is
paralleled by some of Sarpi's utterances against the unmoral
tendencies of Jesuitism and Ultramontanism; and these too seem
divinely inspired as one reads them in the light of what has
happened since in Spain, in Sicily, in Naples, in Poland, in
Ireland, and in sundry South American republics.

The range of Sarpi's friendly relations was amazing. They
embraced statesmen, churchmen, scholars, scientific
investigators, diplomatists in every part of Europe, and among
these Galileo and Lord Bacon, Grotius and Mornay, Salmasius and
Casaubon, De Thou and Sir Henry Wotton, Bishop Bedell and
Vossius, with a great number of others of nearly equal rank.
Unfortunately the greater part of his correspondence has
perished. In the two small volumes collected by Polidori, and in
the small additional volume of letters to Simon Contarini,
Venetian Ambassador at Rome, unearthed a few years since in the
Venetian archives by Castellani, we have all that is known. It is
but a small fraction of his epistolary work, but it enables us to
form a clear opinion. The letters are well worthy of the man who
wrote the history of the Council of Trent and the protest of
Venice against the Interdict.

It is true that there has been derived from these letters, by his
open enemies on one side and his defenders of a rather sickly
conscientious sort on the other, one charge against him: this is
based on his famous declaration, "I utter falsehood never, but
the truth not to every one." ("La falsita non dico mai mai, ma la
verita non a ogniuno.")[1] Considering his vast responsibilities
as a statesman and the terrible dangers which beset him as a
theologian; that in the first of these capacities the least
misstep might wreck the great cause which he supported, and that
in the second such a misstep might easily bring him to the
torture chamber and the stake, normally healthful minds will
doubtless agree that the criticism upon these words is more
Pharisaic than wholesome.


[1] For this famous utterance, see notes of conversations given
by Christoph, Burggraf von Dohna, in July, 1608, in Briefe und
Acten zur Geschichte des Dreissigjahrigen Krieges, Munchen, 1874,
p. 79.


Sarpi was now spoken of, more than ever, both among friends and
foes, as the "terribile frate." Terrible to the main enemies of
Venice he indeed was, and the machinations of his opponents grew
more and more serious. Efforts to assassinate him, to poison him,
to discredit him, to lure him to Rome, or at least within reach
of the Inquisition, became almost frantic; but all in vain. He
still continued his quiet life at the monastery of Santa Fosca,
publishing from time to time discussions of questions important
for Venice and for Europe, working steadily in the public service
until his last hours. In spite of his excommunication and of his
friendships with many of the most earnest Protestants of Europe,
he remained a son of the church in which he was born. His life
was shaped in accordance with its general precepts, and every day
he heard mass. So his career quietly ran on until, in 1623, he
met death calmly, without fear, in full reliance upon the divine
justice and mercy. His last words were a prayer for Venice.

He had fought the good fight. He had won it for Venice and for
humanity. For all this, the Republic had, in his later years,
tried to show her gratitude, and he had quietly and firmly
refused the main gifts proposed to him. But now came a new
outburst of grateful feeling. The Republic sent notice of his
death to other powers of Europe through its Ambassadors in the
terms usual at the death of royal personages; in every way, it
showed its appreciation of his character and services, and it
crowned all by voting him a public monument.

Hardly was the decree known, when the Vatican authorities sent
notice that, should any monument be erected to Sarpi, they would
anew and publicly declare him excommunicate as a heretic. At
this, the Venetian Senate hesitated, waited, delayed. Whenever
afterwards the idea of carrying out the decree for the monument
was revived, there set in a storm of opposition from Rome. Hatred
of the terrible friar's memory seemed to grow more and more
bitter. Even rest in the grave was denied him. The church where
he was buried having been demolished, the question arose as to
the disposition of his bones. To bury them in sacred ground
outside the old convent would arouse a storm of ecclesiastical
hostility, with the certainty of their dispersion and
desecration; it seemed impossible to secure them from priestly
hatred: therefore it was that his friends took them from place to
place, sometimes concealing them in the wall of a church here,
sometimes beneath the pavement of a church there, and for a time
keeping them in a simple wooden box at the Ducal Library. The
place where his remains rested became, to most Venetians,
unknown. All that remained to remind the world of his work was
his portrait in the Ducal Library, showing the great gash made by
the Vatican assassins.

Time went on, and generations came which seemed to forget him.
Still worse, generation after generation came, carefully trained
by clerical teachers to misunderstand and hate him. But these
teachers went too far; for, in 1771, nearly one hundred and fifty
years after his death, the monk Vaerini gathered together, in a
pretended biography, all the scurrilities which could be
imagined, and endeavored to bury the memory of the great patriot
beneath them. This was too much. The old Venetian spirit, which
had so long lain dormant, now asserted itself: Vaerini was
imprisoned and his book suppressed.

A quarter of a century later the Republic fell under the rule of
Austria, and Austria's most time-honored agency in keeping down
subject populations has always been the priesthood. Again Father
Paul's memory was virtually proscribed, and in 1803 another
desperate attempt was made to cover him with infamy. In that year
appeared a book entitled The Secret History of the Life of Fra
Paolo Sarpi, and it contained not only his pretended biography,
but what claimed to be Sarpi's own letters and other documents
showing him to be an adept in scoundrelism and hypocrisy. Its
editor was the archpriest Ferrara of Mantua; but on the
title-page appeared, as the name of its author, Fontanini,
Archbishop of Ancira, a greatly respected prelate who had died
nearly seventy years before, and there was also stamped, not only
upon the preliminary, but upon the final page of the work, the
approval of the Austrian government. To this was added a pious
motto from St. Augustine, and the approval of Pius VII was
distinctly implied, since the work was never placed upon the
Index, and could not have been published at Venice, stamped as it
was and registered with the privileges of the University, without
the consent of the Vatican.

The memory of Father Paul seemed likely now to be overwhelmed.
There was no longer a Republic of Venice to guard the noble
traditions of his life and service. The book was recommended and
spread far and wide by preachers and confessors.

But at last came a day of judgment. The director of the Venetian
archives discovered and had the courage to announce that the work
was a pious fraud of the vilest type; that it was never written
by Fontanini, but that it was simply made up out of the old
scurrilous work of Vaerini, suppressed over thirty years before.
As to the correspondence served up as supplementary to the
biography, it was concocted from letters already published, with
the addition of Jesuitical interpolations and of forgeries.[1]
Now came the inevitable reaction, and with it the inevitable
increase of hatred for Austrian rule and the inevitable question,
how, if the Pope is the infallible teacher of the world in all
matters pertaining to faith and morals, could he virtually
approve this book, and why did he not, by virtue of his divine
inerrancy, detect the fraud and place its condemnation upon the
Index. The only lasting effect of the book, then, was to revive
the memory of Father Paul's great deeds and to arouse Venetian
pride in them. The fearful scar on his face in the portrait spoke
more eloquently than ever, and so it was that, early in the
nineteenth century, many men of influence joined in proposing a
suitable and final interment for the poor bones, which had seven
times been buried and reburied, and which had so long been kept
in the sordid box at the Ducal Library. The one fitting place of
burial was the cemetery of San Michele. To that beautiful island,
so near the heart of Venice, had, for many years, been borne the
remains of leading Venetians. There, too, in more recent days,
have been laid to rest many of other lands widely respected and
beloved.


[1] For a full and fair statement of the researches which exposed
this pious fraud, see Castellani, Prefect of the Library of St.
Mark, preface to his Lettere Inedite di F. P. S., p. xvii. For
methods used in interpolating or modifying passages in Sarpi's
writings, see Bianchi Giovini, Biografia di Sarpi, Zurigo, 1847,
vol. ii. pp. 135, et seq.


But the same persistent hatred which, in our own day, grudged and
delayed due honors at the tombs of Copernicus and Galileo among
Catholics, and of Humboldt among Protestants, was still bitter
against the great Venetian scholar and statesman. It could not be
forgotten that he had wrested from the Vatican the most terrible
of its weapons. But patriotic pride was strong, and finally a
compromise was made: it was arranged that Sarpi should be buried
and honored at his burial as an eminent man of science, and that
no word should be spoken of his main services to the Republic and
to the world. On this condition he was buried with simple honors.

Soon, however, began another chapter of hatred. There came a pope
who added personal to official hostility. Gregory XVI, who in his
earlier days had been abbot of the monastery of San Michele, was
indignant that the friar who had thwarted the papacy should lie
buried in the convent which he himself had formerly ruled, and
this feeling took shape, first, in violent speeches at Rome, and
next, in brutal acts at Venice. The monks broke and removed the
simple stone placed over the remains of Father Paul, and when it
was replaced, they persisted in defacing and breaking it, and
were only prevented from dragging out his bones, dishonoring them
and casting them into the lagoon, by the weight of the massive,
strong, well-anchored sarcophagus, which the wise foresight of
his admirers had provided for them. At three different visits to
Venice, the present writer sought the spot where they were laid,
and in vain. At the second of these visits, he found the
Patriarch of Venice, under whose rule various outrages upon
Sarpi's memory had been perpetrated, pontificating gorgeously
about the Grand Piazza; but at his next visit there had come a
change. The monks had disappeared. Their insults to the
illustrious dead had been stopped by laws which expelled them
from their convent, and there, little removed from each other in
the vestibule and aisle of the great church, were the tombs of
Father Paul and of the late Patriarch side by side; the great
patriot's simple gravestone was now allowed to rest unbroken.

Better even than this was the reaction provoked by these
outbursts of ecclesiastical hatred. It was felt, in Venice,
throughout Italy, and indeed throughout the world, that the old
decree for a monument should now be made good. The first steps
were hesitating. First, a bust of Father Paul was placed among
those of great Venetians in the court of the Ducal Palace; but
the inscription upon it was timid and double-tongued. Another
bust was placed on the Pincian Hill at Rome, among those of the
most renowned sons of Italy. This was not enough: a suitable
monument must be erected. Yet it was delayed, timid men
deprecating the hostility of the Roman Court. At last, under the
new Italian monarchy, the patriotic movement became irresistible,
and the same impulse which erected the splendid statue to
Giordano Bruno on the Piazza dei Fiori at Rome,--on the very spot
where he was burned,--and which adorned it with the medallions of
eight other martyrs to ecclesiastical hatred, erected in 1892,
two hundred and seventy years after it had been decreed, a
statue, hardly less imposing, to Paolo Sarpi, on the Piazza Santa
Fosca at Venice, where he had been left for dead by the Vatican
assassins. There it stands, noble and serene,--a monument of
patriotism and right reason, a worthy tribute to one who, among
intellectual prostitutes and solemnly constituted impostors,
stood forth as a true man, the greatest of his time,--one of the
greatest of all times,--an honor to Venice, to Italy, and to
humanity.                                  Andrew D. White.

*************************************************************

Then came the death of the Empress Frederick. Even during her
tragic struggle with Bismarck, and the unpopularity which beset
her during my former official term at Berlin, she had been kind
to me and mine. At my presentation to her in those days, at
Potsdam, when she stood by the side of her husband, afterward the
most beloved of emperors since Marcus Aurelius, she evidently
exerted herself to make the interview pleasant to me. She talked
of American art and the Colorado pictures of Moran, which she had
seen and admired; of German art and the Madonna painted by Knaus
for the Russian Empress, which Miss Wolfe had given the
Metropolitan Museum at New York; and in reply to my
congratulations upon a recent successful public speech of her
eldest son, a student at Bonn, she had dwelt, in a motherly way,
upon the difficulties which environ a future sovereign at a great
university. In more recent days, and especially during the years
before her death, she had been, at her table in Berlin and at her
castle of Kronberg, especially courteous. There comes back to me
pleasantly a kindly retort of hers. I had spoken to her of a
portrait of George III which had interested me at the old castle
of Homburg nearly forty years before. It had been sent to his
daughter, the Landgravine of Hesse-Homburg, who had evidently
wished to see her father's face as it had really become; for it
represented the King, not in the gold-laced uniform, not in the
trim wig not in the jauntily tied queue of his official portraits
and statues, but as he was: in confinement, wretched and
demented; in a slouching gown, with a face sad beyond expression;
his long, white hair falling about it and over it; of all
portraits in the world, save that, at Florence, of Charles V in
his old age, the saddest. So, the conversation drifting upon
George III and upon the old feeling between the United States and
Great Britain, now so happily changed, I happened to say, "It is
a remembrance of mine, now hard to realize, that I was brought up
to ABHOR the memory of George III." At this she smiled and
answered, "That was very unjust; for I was brought up to ADORE
the memory of Washington." Then she spoke at length regarding the
feeling of her father and mother toward the United States during
our Civil War, saying that again and again she had heard her
father argue to her mother, Queen Victoria, for the Union and
against slavery. She discussed current matters of world politics
with the strength of a statesman; yet nothing could be more
womanly in the highest sense. On my saying that I hoped to see
the day when Germany, Great Britain, and the United States would
stand together in guarding the peace of the world, she threw up
her hands and replied, "Heaven grant it; but you forget Japan."
The funeral at Potsdam dwells in my mind as worthy of her. There
were, indeed, pomp and splendor, but subdued, as was befitting;
and while the foreign representatives stood beside her coffin,
the Emperor spoke to me, very simply and kindly, of his sorrow
and of mine. Then, to the sound of funeral music and muffled
church bells, he, with the King of Great Britain and members of
their immediate family just behind the funeral car, the
ambassadors accompanying them, and a long procession following,
walked slowly along the broad avenue through that beautiful
forest, until, in the Church of Peace, she was laid by the side
of her husband, Emperor Frederick the Noble.



CHAPTER XLIII

BERLIN, YALE, OXFORD, AND ST. ANDREWS--1901-1903

Darkest of all hours during my embassy was that which brought
news of the assassination of President McKinley. It was on the
very day after his great speech at Buffalo had gained for him the
admiration and good will of the world. Then came a week of
anxiety--of hope alternating with fear; I not hopeful: for there
came back to me memories of President Garfield's assassination
during my former official stay in Berlin, and of our hope against
hope during his struggle for life: all brought to naught. Late in
the evening of September 14 came news of the President's
death--opening a new depth of sadness; for I had come not merely
to revere him as a patriot and admire him as a statesman, but to
love him as a man. Few days have seemed more overcast than that
Sunday when, at the little American chapel in Berlin, our colony
held a simple service of mourning, the imperial minister of
foreign affairs and other representatives of the government
having quietly come to us. The feeling of the German people--awe,
sadness, and even sympathy--was real. Formerly they had disliked
and distrusted the President as the author of the protective
policy which had cost their industries so dear; but now, after
his declaration favoring reciprocity,--with his full recognition
of the brotherhood of nations,--and in view of this calamity, so
sudden, so distressing, there had come a revulsion of feeling.

To see one whom I so honored, and who had formerly been so
greatly misrepresented, at last recognized as a great and true
man was, at least, a solace.

At this period came the culmination of a curious episode in my
official career. During the war in China the Chinese minister at
Berlin, Lu-Hai-Houan, feeling himself cut off from relations with
the government to which he was accredited, and, indeed, with all
the other powers of Europe, had come at various times to me, and
with him, fortunately, came his embassy counselor, Dr. Kreyer,
whom I had previously known at Berlin and St. Petersburg as a
thoughtful man, deeply anxious for the welfare of China, and
appreciative of the United States, where he had received his
education. The minister was a kindly old mandarin of high rank,
genial, gentle, evidently struggling hard against the depression
caused by the misfortunes of his country, and seeking some little
light, if, perchance, any was to be obtained. In his visits to
me, and at my return visits to him, the whole condition of things
in China was freely and fully discussed, and never have I exerted
myself more to give useful advice. First, I insisted upon the
necessity of amends for the fearful wrong done by China to other
nations, and then presented my view of the best way of developing
in his country a civilization strong enough to resist hostile
forces, exterior and interior. As to dealings with the Christian
missionaries, against whom he showed no fanatical spirit, but
who, as he thought, had misunderstood China and done much harm, I
sought to show him that the presumption was in their favor, but
that if the Chinese Government ultimately came to the decision
that their stay in China was incompatible with the safety of the
nation, its course was simple: that on no account was it to kill
or injure any of them or of their converts; that while, in my
view, it would be wise to arrange for their continuance in China
under proper regulation, still, that if they must be expelled, it
should be done in the most kindly and considerate way, and with
due indemnity for any losses to which they might be subjected. Of
course, there was no denying that, under the simplest principles
of international law, China has the right at any moment to shut
its doors against, or to expel, any people whatever whom it may
consider dangerous or injurious--this power being constantly
exercised by all the other nations of the earth, and by none more
than by the American Government, as so many Chinese seeking
entrance to our ports have discovered; but again and again I
warned him that this, if it were ever done at all, must be done
without harshness and with proper indemnities, and that any
return to the cruelties of the past would probably end in the
dividing up of maritime China among the great powers of the
world. As to the building up of the nation, I laid stress on the
establishment of institutions for technical instruction; and took
pains to call his attention to what had been done in the United
States and by various European governments in this respect. He
seemed favorably impressed by this, but dwelt on what he
considered the fanaticism of sundry Chinese supporters of
technical education against the old Chinese classical
instruction. Here I suggested to him a system which might save
what was good in the old mode of instruction: namely, the
continuance of the best of the old classical training, but giving
also high rank to modern studies.

We also talked over the beginning of a better development of the
Chinese army and navy, of better systems of taxation, and of the
nations from which good examples and competent instruction might
be drawn in these various fields. Curious was his suggestion of a
possible amalgamation of Chinese moral views with the religious
creeds of the western world. He observed that Christianity seemed
to be weak, mainly, on the moral side, and he suggested, at some
length, a combination of the Christian religion with the
Confucian morality. Interesting was it to hear him, as a
Confucian, dwell on the services which might thus be rendered to
civilization. There was a simple, kindly shrewdness in the man,
and a personal dignity which was proof against the terrible
misfortunes which had beset his country. Again and again he
visited me, always wishing to discuss some new phase of the
questions at issue. I could only hope that, as he was about to
return to China, some of the ideas brought out in our
conversations might prove fruitful. One result of the relation
thus formed was that when Prince Chun, the brother of the Emperor
of China, came to make apology before the throne of the Emperor
William, he called upon me. Unfortunately I was out, but,
returning his visit, I met him, and, what was more to the
purpose, the dignitaries of his suite, some of whom interested me
much; and I was glad of a chance, through them, to impress some
of the ideas brought out in my previous conversations with the
minister. I cannot say that I indulged in any strong hopes as
regards the prince himself; but, noting the counselors who
surrounded him, and their handling of the questions at issue, I
formed more hope for the conservation of China as a great and
beneficent power than I had ever had before.

To this succeeded an episode of a very different sort. For some
time Mr. Andrew Carnegie had done me the honor to listen to
advice of mine regarding some of his intended benefactions in
Scotland, the United States, and elsewhere. I saw and felt the
great possibilities for good involved when so noble a heart, so
shrewd a head, so generous a hand had command of one of the most
colossal fortunes ever at the disposal of a human being; and the
bright purposes and plans revealed in his letters shone through
the clouds of that mournful summer. So it was that, on my journey
to America, made necessary by the sudden death of my son, I
accepted Mr. Carnegie's invitation to visit him at his castle of
Skibo in the extreme north of Scotland. Very striking, during the
two days' journey from London to Edinburgh, and from Edinburgh to
Bonar, were the evidences of mourning for President McKinley in
every city, village, and hamlet. It seemed natural that, in the
large towns and on great public buildings, flags at half-mast and
in mourning should show a sense of the calamity which had
befallen a sister nation; but what appealed to me most were the
draped and half-masted flags on the towers of the little country
churches and cottages. Never before in the history of any two
countries had such evidences of brotherly feeling been shown.
Thank God! brotherly feeling had conquered demagogism.

The visit to Mr. Carnegie helped to give a new current to my
thoughts. The attractions of his wonderful domain forty thousand
acres, with every variety of scenery,--ocean, forest, moor, and
mountain,--the household with its quaint Scotch usages--the piper
in full tartan solemnly going his rounds at dawn, and the music
of the organ swelling, morning and evening, through the castle
from the great hall--all helped to give me new strength. There
was also good company: Frederic Harrison, thoughtful and
brilliant, whom I had before known only by his books and a brief
correspondence; Archdeacon Sinclair of London, worthy, by his
scholarly accomplishments, of his descent from the friend of
Washington; and others who did much to aid our hosts in making
life at the castle beautiful. Going thence to America, I found
time to cooperate with my old friend, President Gilman, in
securing data for Mr. Carnegie, especially at Washington, in view
of his plan of a national institution for the higher scientific
research.

It was a sad home-coming; but these occupations and especially a
visit to New Haven at the bicentennial celebration of Yale aided
to cheer me. This last was indeed a noteworthy commemoration.
There had come to me, in connection with it, perhaps the greatest
honor of my life: an invitation to deliver one of the main
addresses; but it had been received at the time of my deepest
depression, and I had declined it, but with no less gratitude
that the authorities of my Alma Mater had thought me worthy of
that service. In so doing, I sacrificed much; for there was one
subject which, under other circumstances, I would gladly have
developed at such a time and before such an audience. But as I
listened to the admirable address given by my old college mate,
Mr. Justice Brewer, when the honors of the university were
conferred upon the President, the Secretary of State, and so many
distinguished representatives from all parts of the world, it was
a satisfaction to me, after all, that I could enjoy it quietly,
with no sense of responsibility, and could, indeed, rest and be
thankful.

As to my own personal history, there came at this time an event
which could not but please me: the Royal Academy of Sciences at
Berlin chose me as one of its foreign honorary members. It was a
tribute of the sort for which I cared most, especially because it
brought me into closer relations with leaders in science and
literature whom I had so long admired.

To finish the chronicle of that period, I may add that, on my
return from America, being invited to Potsdam for the purpose, I
gave the Emperor the very hearty message which the President had
sent him, and that, during this interview and the family dinner
which followed it, he spoke most appreciatively and intelligently
of the President, of the recent victory for good government in
the city of New York, of the skill shown by Americans in great
works of public utility, and especially of the remarkable
advances in the development of our navy.

One part of this conversation had a lighter cast. At the close of
that portion of the communication from the President which
referred to various public affairs came a characteristic touch in
the shape of an invitation to hunt in the Rocky Mountain regions:
it was the simple message of one healthy, hearty, vigorous hunter
to another, and was to the effect that the President especially
envied the Emperor for having shot a whale, but that if his
Majesty would come to America he should have the best possible
opportunity to add to his trophies a Rocky Mountain lion, and
that he would thus be the first monarch to kill a lion since
Tiglath-Pileser, whose exploit is shown on the old monuments of
Assyria. The hearty way in which the message was received showed
that it would have been gladly accepted had that been possible.

On New Year's day of 1902 began the sixth year of my official
stay at Berlin. At his reception of the ambassadors the Emperor
was very cordial, spoke most heartily regarding President
Roosevelt, and asked me to forward his request that the
President's daughter might be allowed to christen the imperial
yacht then building in America. In due time this request was
granted, and as the special representative of the sovereign at
its launching he named his brother--Prince Henry. No man in the
empire could have been more fitly chosen. His career as chief
admiral of the German navy had prepared him to profit by such a
journey, and his winning manners assured him a hearty welcome.

My more serious duties were now relieved by sundry festivities,
and of these was a dinner on the night of the prince's departure
from Berlin, given to the American Embassy by the Emperor, who
justly hoped and believed that the proposed expedition would
strengthen good feeling between the two countries. After dinner
we all sat in the smoking-room of the old Schloss until midnight,
and various pleasant features of the conversation dwell in my
memory--particularly the Emperor's discussions of Mark Twain and
other American humorists; but perhaps the most curious was his
amusement over a cutting from an American newspaper--a printed
recipe for an American concoction known as "Hohenzollern punch,"
said to be in readiness for the prince on his arrival. The number
of intoxicants, and the ingenuity of their combination, as his
Majesty read the list aloud, were amazing; it was a terrific
brew, which only a very tough seaman could expect to survive.

But as we all took leave of the prince at the station afterward,
there were in my heart and mind serious misgivings. I knew well
that, though the great mass of the American people were sure to
give him a hearty welcome, there were scattered along his route
many fanatics, and, most virulent of all, those who had just then
been angered by the doings of sundry Prussian underlings in
Poland. I must confess to uneasiness during his whole stay in
America, and among the bright days of my life was that on which
the news came that he was on board a German liner and on his
return.

One feature of that evening is perhaps more worthy of record.
After the departure of the prince, the Emperor's conversation
took a more serious turn, and as we walked toward his carriage he
said, "My brother's mission has no political character whatever,
save in one contingency: If the efforts made in certain parts of
Europe to show that the German Government sought to bring about a
European combination against the United States during your
Spanish war are persisted in, I have authorized him to lay before
the President certain papers which will put that slander at rest
forever." As it turned out, there was little need of this, since
the course both of the Emperor and his government was otherwise
amply vindicated.

The main matter of public business during the first months of the
year was the Russian occupation of Manchuria, regarding which our
government took a very earnest part, instructing me to press the
matter upon the attention of the German Government, and to follow
it up with especial care. Besides this, it was my duty to urge a
fitting representation of Germany at the approaching St. Louis
Exposition. Regarding this there were difficulties. The Germans
very generally avowed themselves exposition-weary
(ausstellungsmude); and no wonder, for exposition had succeeded
exposition, now in this country, now in that, and then in various
American cities, each anxious to outdo the other, until all
foreign governments were well-nigh tired out. But the St. Louis
Exposition encountered an adverse feeling much more serious than
any caused by fatigue,--the American system of high protection
having led the Germans to distrust all our expositions, whether
at New Orleans, Chicago, Buffalo, or St. Louis, and to feel that
there was really nothing in these for Germany; that, in fact,
German manufacturing interests would be better served by avoiding
them than by taking part in them. Still, by earnest presentation
of the matter at the Foreign Office and to the Emperor, I was
able to secure a promise that German art should be well
represented.

In March, a lull having come in public business as well as in
social duty, I started on my usual excursion to Italy, its most
interesting feature being my sixth stay in Venice. Ten days in
that fascinating city were almost entirely devoted to increasing
my knowledge of Fra Paolo Sarpi. Various previous visits had
familiarized me with the main events in his wonderful career; but
I now met with two pieces of especially good fortune. First, I
made the acquaintance of the Rev. Dr. Alexander Robertson, an
ardent admirer of Father Paul, and author of an excellent
biography of him; and, next, I was able to add to my own material
a mass of rare books and manuscripts relating to the great
Venetian. Most interesting was my visit, in company with Dr.
Robertson, to the remains of Father Paul's old monastery, where
we found what no one, up to our time, seems to have
discovered--the little door which the Venetian Senate caused to
be made in the walls of the monastery garden, at Father Paul's
request, in order that he might reach his gondola at once, and
not be again exposed to assassins like those sent by Pope Paul V,
who had attacked him and left him, to all appearances dead, in
the little street near the monastery.

Returning to Berlin, the usual round of duty was resumed; but
there seems nothing worthy to be chronicled, save possibly the
visit of the Shah of Persia and the Crown Prince of Siam. Both
were seen in all their glory at the gala opera given in their
honor; but the Persian ruler appeared to little advantage, for he
was obliged to retire before the close of the representation. He
was evidently prematurely old and worn out. The feature of this
social function which especially dwells in my memory was a very
interesting talk with the Emperor regarding the kindness shown
his brother by the American people, at the close of which he
presented me to his guest, the Crown Princess of Saxony. She was
especially kindly and pleasing, discussing various topics with
heartiness and simplicity; and it was a vast surprise to me when,
a few months later, she became the heroine of perhaps the most
astonishing escapade in the modern history of royalty.

As to matters of business, there came one which especially
rejoiced me. Mr. Carnegie having established the institution for
research which bears his name at Washington, with an endowment of
ten million dollars, and named me among the trustees, my old
friend Dr. Gilman had later been chosen President of the new
institution, and now arrived in Berlin to study the best that
Germans were doing as regards research in science. Our excursions
to various institutions interested me greatly; both the men we
met and things we saw were full of instruction to us, and of all
public duties I have had to discharge, I recall none with more
profit and pleasure. One thing in this matter struck me as never
before--the quiet wisdom and foresight with which the various
German governments prepare to profit by the best which science
can be made to yield them in every field.

Upon these duties followed others of a very different sort. On
the 19th of June died King Albert of Saxony, and in view of his
high character and of the many kindnesses he had shown to
Americans, I was instructed to attend his funeral at Dresden as a
special representative of the President. The whole ceremonial was
interesting; there being in it not only a survival of various
mediaeval procedures, but many elements of solemnity and beauty;
and the funeral, which took place at the court church in the
evening, was especially impressive. Before the high altar stood
the catafalque; in front of it, the crown, scepter, orb, and
other emblems of royalty; and at its summit, the coffin
containing the body of the King. Around this structure were
ranged lines of soldiers and pages in picturesque uniforms and
bearing torches. Facing these were the seats for the majesties,
including the new King, who had at his right the Emperor of
Austria, and at his left the German Emperor, while next these
were the seats of foreign ambassadors and other representatives.
Of all present, the one who seemed least in accord with his
surroundings was the nephew of the old and the son of the new
King, Prince Max, who was dressed simply as a priest, his plain
black gown in striking contrast with the gorgeous uniforms of the
other princes immediately about him. The only disconcerting
feature was the sermon. It was given by one of the priests
attached to the court church, and he evidently considered this an
occasion to be made much of; for instead of fifteen minutes, as
had been expected, his sermon lasted an hour and twenty minutes,
much to the discomfort of the crowd of officials, who were
obliged to remain standing from beginning to end, and especially
to the chagrin of the two Emperors, whose special trains and
time-tables, as well as the railway arrangements for the general
public, were thereby seriously deranged.

But all fatigues were compensated by the music. The court choir
of Dresden is famous, and for this occasion splendid additions
had been made both to it and to the orchestra; nothing in its way
could be more impressive, and as a climax came the last honors to
the departed King, when, amid the music of an especially
beautiful chorus, the booming of artillery in the neighboring
square, and the tolling of the bells of the city on all sides,
the royal coffin slowly sank into the vaults below.

On the following morning I was received by the new King. He
seemed a man of sound sense, and likely to make a good
constitutional sovereign. Our talk was simply upon the relations
of the two countries, during which I took pains to bespeak for my
countrymen sojourning at Dresden the same kindnesses which the
deceased King had shown them.

During the summer a study of some of the most important
industries at the Dusseldorf Exposition proved useful; but
somewhat later other excursions had a more direct personal
interest; for within a few hours of each other came two
unexpected communications: one from the president of Yale
University, commissioning me to represent my Alma Mater at the
tercentenary of the Bodleian at Oxford; the other from the
University of St. Andrews, inviting me to the installation of Mr.
Andrew Carnegie as lord rector of that institution; and both
these I accepted.

The celebration at Oxford was in every way interesting to me; but
I may say frankly that of all things which gave me pleasure, the
foremost was the speech of presentation, in the Sheldonian
Theatre, when the doctorate of civil law was conferred upon me.
The first feature in this speech, assigning the reasons for
conferring the degree, was a most kindly reference to my part in
establishing the Arbitration Tribunal at the International
Conference of The Hague; and this, of course, was gratifying. But
the second half of the speech touched me more nearly; for it was
a friendly appreciation of my book regarding the historical
relations between science and theology in Christendom. This was a
surprise indeed! Years before, when writing this book, I had said
to myself, "This ends all prospect of friendly recognition of any
work I may ever do, so far as the universities and academies of
the world are concerned. But so be it; what I believe I will
say." And now, suddenly, unexpectedly, came recognition and
commendation in that great and ancient center of religious
thought and sentiment, once so reactionary, where, within my
memory, even a man like Edward Everett was harshly treated for
his inability to accept the shibboleths of orthodoxy.

This reviving of old and beginning of new friendships, with the
hearty hospitality lavished upon us from all sides, left
delightful remembrances. Several times, during the previous fifty
years, I had visited Oxford and been cordially welcomed; but this
greeting surpassed all others.

There was, indeed, one slight mishap. Being called upon to speak
in behalf of the guests at the great dinner in Christ Church
Hall, I endeavored to make a point which I thought new and
perhaps usefully suggestive. Having referred to the increasing
number of international congresses, expositions, conferences,
academic commemorations, anniversaries, and the like, I dwelt
briefly on their agency in generating friendships between men of
influence in different countries, and therefore in maintaining
international good will; and then especially urged, as the pith
and point of my speech, that such agencies had recently been made
potent for peace as never before. In support of this view, I
called attention to the fact that the Peace Conference at The
Hague had not only established an arbitration tribunal for
PREVENTING war, but had gained the adhesion of all nations
concerned to a number of arrangements, such as international
"Commissions of Inquiry," the system of "Seconding Powers," and
the like, for DELAYING war, thus securing time during which
better international feelings could assert themselves, and
reasonable men on either side could work together to bring in the
sober second thought; that thereby the friendships promoted by
these international festivities had been given, as never before,
time to assert themselves as an effective force for peace against
jingo orators, yellow presses, and hot-heads generally; and
finally, in view of this increased efficiency of such gatherings
in promoting peace, I urged that they might well be multiplied on
both sides of the Atlantic, and that as many delegates as
possible should be sent to them.

"A poor thing, but mine own." Alas! next day, in the press, I was
reported as simply uttering the truism that such gatherings
increase the peaceful feeling of nations; and so the main point
of my little speech was lost. But it was a slight matter, and of
all my visits to Oxford, this will remain in my memory as the
most delightful.[7]


[7] The full speech has since been published in the "Yale Alumni
Weekly."


The visit to St. Andrews was also happy. After the principal of
the university had conferred the doctorate of laws upon several
of the guests, including Mr. Choate, the American ambassador at
London, and myself, Mr. Carnegie gave his rectorial address. It
was decidedly original, its main feature being an argument in
behalf of a friendly union of the United States and Great Britain
in their political and commercial policy, and for a similar union
between the Continental European nations for the protection of
their industries and for the promotion of universal peace, with a
summons to the German Emperor to put himself at the head of the
latter. It was prepared with skill and delivered with force. Very
amusing were the attempts of the great body of students to throw
the speaker off his guard by comments, questions, and chaff. I
learned later that, more than once, orators has thus been
entrapped or entangled, and that on one occasion an address had
been completely wrecked by such interruptions; but Mr. Carnegie's
Scotch-Yankee wit carried him through triumphantly: he met all
these efforts with equanimity and good humor, and soon had the
audience completely on his side.

Returning to Berlin, there came preparations for closing my
connection with the embassy. I had long before decided that on my
seventieth birthday I would cease to hold any official position
whatever. Pursuant to that resolution, my resignation had been
sent to the President, with the statement that it must be
considered final. In return came the kindest possible letters
from him and from the Secretary of State; both of them
attributing a value to my services much beyond anything I would
dare claim.

On my birthday came a new outburst of kindness. From all parts of
Europe and America arrived letters and telegrams, while from the
Americans in various parts of Germany--especially from the Berlin
colony--came a superbly engrossed address, and with it a
succession of kindly visitors representing all ranks in Berlin
society. One or two of these testimonials I may be pardoned for
especially mentioning. Some time after the letter from President
Roosevelt above mentioned, there had come from him a second
epistle, containing a sealed envelop on which were inscribed the
words: "To be opened on your seventieth birthday." Being duly
opened on the morning of that day, it was found to be even more
heartily appreciative than his former letter, and the same was
found to be true of a second letter by the Secretary of State,
Mr. Hay; so that I add these to the treasures to be handed down
to my grandchildren.

Shortly afterward came a letter from the chancellor of the
empire, most kindly appreciative. It will be placed, with those
above referred to, at the close of this chapter.

Especially noteworthy also was the farewell dinner given me at
the Kaiserhof by the German-American Association. Never had I
seen so many Germans eminent in politics, diplomacy, literature,
science, art, education, and commerce assembled on any single
occasion. Hearty speeches were made by the minister of the
interior, Count Posadowsky, who presided, and by Professor
Harnack of the university, who had been selected to present the
congratulations of my entertainers. I replied at length, and as
in previous speeches during my career, both as minister and
ambassador, I had endeavored to present to my countrymen at home
and abroad the claims of Germany upon American good will, I now
endeavored to reveal to the great body of thinking Germans some
of the deeper characteristics and qualities of the American
people; my purpose being in this, as in previous speeches, to
bring about a better understanding between the two nations.

The Emperor being absent in England, my departure from Berlin was
delayed somewhat beyond the time I had fixed; but on the 27th of
November came my final day in office. In the morning my wife and
myself were received in special audience by both the sovereigns,
who afterward welcomed us at their table. Both showed unaffected
cordiality. The Emperor discussed with me various interesting
questions in a most friendly spirit, and, on my taking leave,
placed in my hands what is known as the "Great Gold Medal for Art
and Science," saying that he did this at the request of his
advisers in those fields, and adding assurances of his own which
greatly increased the value of the gift. Later in the day came a
superb vase from the royal manufactory of porcelain, bearing his
portrait and cipher, as a token of personal good will.

On the same evening was the American Thanksgiving dinner, with
farewells to and from the American colony, and during the
following days farewell gatherings at the houses of the dean of
the ambassadors, the secretary of state for foreign affairs, and
the chancellor of the empire; finally, on the evening of December
5, with hearty good-byes at the station from a great concourse of
my diplomatic colleagues and other old friends, we left Berlin.

Our first settlement was at a pretty villa at Alassio, on the
Italian Riviera; and here, in March, 1903, looking over my
garden, a mass of bloom, shaded by palms and orange-trees in full
bearing, and upon the Mediterranean beyond, I settled down to
record these recollections of my life--making excursions now and
then into interesting parts of Italy.

As to these later journeys, one, being out of the beaten track,
may be worth mentioning. It was an excursion in the islands of
Elba and Corsica. Though anything but a devotee of Napoleon, I
could not but be interested in that little empire of his on the
Italian coast, and especially in the town house, country-seat,
and garden where he planned the return to Europe which led to the
final catastrophe.

More interesting still was the visit to Corsica and, especially,
to Ajaccio. There the traveler stands before the altar where
Napoleon's father and mother were married, at the font where he
was baptized, in the rooms where he was born, played with his
brothers during his boyhood, and developed various scoundrelisms
during his young manhood: the furniture and surroundings being as
they were when he knew them.

Just around the corner from the house in which the Bonapartes
lived was the more stately residence of the more aristocratic
family of Pozzo di Borgo. It interested me as the nest in which
was reared that early playmate and rival of Napoleon, who
afterward became his most virulent, persistent, and successful
enemy, who pursued him through his whole career as a hound
pursues a wolf, and who at last aided most effectively in
bringing him down.

After exhausting the attractions of Ajaccio, we drove up a broad,
well-paved avenue, gradually rising and curving until, at a
distance of six or seven miles, it ended at the country-seat of
this same family of Pozzo di Borgo, far up among the mountains.
There, on a plateau commanding an amazing view, and in the midst
of a superb park, we found the rural retreat of the family; but,
to our surprise, not a castle, not a villa, not like any other
building for a similar purpose in Italy or anywhere else in the
world, but a Parisian town house, recently erected in the style
of the Valois period, with Mansard roof. As we approached it, I
was struck by architectural details even more at variance with
the surroundings than was the general style of the building: all
its exterior decoration presenting the features of a pavilion
from the old Tuileries at Paris; and in the garden hard by we
found battered and blackened fragments of pilasters, shown by the
emblems and ciphers upon them to have come from that part of the
Tuileries once inhabited by Napoleon. The family being absent, we
were allowed to roam through the house, and there found the
statues, paintings, tapestries, books, and papers of Napoleon's
arch-enemy, the great Pozzo di Borgo himself, all of them more or
less connected with the great struggle. There, too, in the
library were collected the decorations bestowed upon him by all
the sovereigns of Europe for his successful zeal in hunting down
the common enemy--"the Corsican Ogre." The palace, inside and
out, is a monument to the most famous of Corsican vendettas.

My two winters at Alassio after leaving Berlin, though filled
with deferred work, were restful. During a visit to America in
1903, I joined my class at Yale in celebrating its fiftieth
anniversary, giving there a public address entitled "A Patriotic
Investment." The main purpose of this address was to promote the
establishment of Professorships of Comparative Legislation in our
leading universities. I could not think then, and cannot think
now, of any endowment likely to be more speedily and happily
fruitful in good to the whole country. In the spring of 1904 I
returned to my old house on the grounds of Cornell University,
and there, with my family, old associates, and new friends about
me, have devoted myself to various matters long delayed, and
especially to writing sundry articles in the "Atlantic Monthly,"
the "Century Magazine," and various other periodicals, and to the
discharge of my duties as a Trustee of Cornell and as a Regent of
the Smithsonian Institution and a Trustee of the Carnegie
Institution at Washington. It is, of course, the last of my life,
but I count myself happy in living to see so much of good
accomplished and so much promise of good in every worthy field of
human effort throughout our country and indeed throughout the
world.

Following are the letters referred to in this chapter.

FROM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
WHITE HOUSE,
WASHINGTON.

OYSTER BAY, NEW YORK,
                                    August 5, 1902.
MY DEAR AMBASSADOR WHITE:

It is with real regret that I accept your resignation, for I
speak what is merely a self-evident truth when I say that we
shall have to look with some apprehension to what your successor
does, whoever that successor may be, lest he fall short of the
standard you have set.

It is a very great thing for a man to be able to feel, as you
will feel when on your seventieth birthday you prepare to leave
the Embassy, that you have been able to serve your country as it
has been served by but a very limited number of people in your
generation. You have done much for it in word and in deed. You
have adhered to a lofty ideal and yet have been absolutely
practical and, therefore, efficient, so that you are a perpetual
example to young men how to avoid alike the Scylla of
indifference and the Charybdis of efficiency for the wrong....

With regards and warm respect and admiration,
         Faithfully yours,
                     (Signed) THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

HON. ANDREW D. WHITE,
      Ambassador to Germany,
           Berlin, Germany.


WHITE HOUSE,
WASHINGTON.

OYSTER BAY, NEW YORK,
September 15, 1902

MY DEAR MR. AMBASSADOR:

Will you read the inclosed on your seventieth birthday? I have
sealed it so you can break the seal then.
Faithfully yours,
(Signed) THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

HON. ANDREW D. WHITE,
      U. S. Ambassador,
           Berlin, Germany.



WHITE HOUSE,
WASHINGTON.

OYSTER BAY,
September 15, 1902.

MY DEAR MR. AMBASSADOR:

On the day you open this you will be seventy years old. I cannot
forbear writing you a line to express the obligation which all
the American people are under to you. As a diplomat you have come
in that class whose foremost exponents are Benjamin Franklin and
Charles Francis Adams, and which numbers also in its ranks men
like Morris, Livingston, and Pinckney. As a politician, as a
publicist, and as a college president you have served your
country as only a limited number of men are able to serve it. You
have taught by precept, and you have taught by practice. We are
all of us better because you have lived and worked, and I send
you now not merely my warmest well-wishes and congratulations,
but thanks from all our people for all that you have done for us
in the past.                     Faithfully yours,
         (Signed) THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

HON. ANDREW D. WHITE,
      U. S. Ambassador,
           Berlin, Germany.



FROM THE SECRETARY OF STATE.
NEWBURY, N. H.,

August 3, 1902.

DEAR MR. WHITE:

I have received your very kind letter of the 21st July, which is
the first intimation I have had of your intention to resign your
post of ambassador to Germany. I am sorry to hear the country is
to lose your services in the place you have filled with such
distinguished ability and dignity. It is a great thing to say--as
it is simple truth to say it--that you have, during your
residence in Berlin, increased the respect felt for America not
only in Germany but in all Europe. You have thus rendered a great
public service,--independent of all the details of your valuable
work. The man is indeed fortunate who can go through a long
career without blame, and how much more fortunate if he adds
great achievement to blamelessness. You have the singular
felicity of having been always a fighting man, and having gone
through life without a wound.

I congratulate you most on your physical and mental ability to
enjoy the rest you have chosen and earned....

My wife joins me in cordial regards to Mrs. White, and I am
always,

Faithfully yours,
(Signed) JOHN HAY.


DEPARTMENT OF STATE,
WASHINGTON,

November 7, 1902.

DEAR MR. WHITE:

I cannot let the day pass without sending you a word of cordial
congratulation on the beginning of what I hope will be the most
delightful part of your life. Browning long ago sang, "The best
is yet to be," and, certainly, if world-wide fame troops of
friends, a consciousness of well-spent years, and a great career
filled with righteous achievement are constituents of happiness,
you have everything that the heart of man could wish.
       Yours faithfully,
(Signed) JOHN HAY.

His Excellency ANDREW D. WHITE, etc., etc., etc.


FROM THE CHANCELLOR OF THE GERMAN EMPIRE.
                               Wilhelm Str. 77.

MY DEAR AMBASSADOR:

On the occasion of this memorable day, I beg to send you my best
wishes. May God grant you perfect health and happiness. Be
assured that I always shall remember the excellent relations
which have joined us during so many years, and accept the
assurance of the highest esteem and respect of your most
affectionate
BULOW.
7 Nov. 1902.



CHAPTER XLIV

MY RECOLLECTIONS OF WILLIAM II--1879-1903

At various times since my leaving the Berlin Embassy various
friends have said to me, "Why not give us something definite
regarding the German Emperor?" And on my pleading sundry
difficulties and objections, some of my advisers have recalled
many excellent precedents, both American and foreign, and others
have cited the dictum, "The man I don't like is the man I don't
know."

The latter argument has some force with me. Much ill feeling
between the United States and Germany has had its root in
misunderstandings; and, as one of the things nearest my heart
since my student days has been a closer moral and intellectual
relation between the two countries, there is, perhaps, a reason
for throwing into these misunderstandings some light from my own
experience.

My first recollections of the present Emperor date from the
beginning of my stay as minister at Berlin, in 1879. The official
presentations to the Emperor and Empress of that period having
been made, there came in regular order those to the crown prince
and princess, and on my way to them there fell into my hands a
newspaper account of the unveiling of the monument to the eminent
painter Cornelius, at Dusseldorf, the main personage in the
ceremony being the young Prince William, then a student at Bonn.
His speech was given at some length, and it impressed me. There
was a certain reality of conviction and aspiration in it which
seemed to me so radically different from the perfunctory
utterances usual on such occasions that, at the close of the
official interview with his father and mother, I alluded to it.
Their response touched me. There came at once a kindly smile upon
the father's face, and a glad sparkle into the mother's eyes:
pleasing was it to hear her, while showing satisfaction and
pride, speak of her anxiety before the good news came, and of the
embarrassments in the way of her son at his first public address
on an occasion of such importance; no less pleasing was it to
note the father's happy acquiescence: there was in it all a
revelation of simple home feeling and of wholesome home ties
which clearly indicated something different from the family
relations in sundry royal houses depicted by court chroniclers.

Not long afterward the young prince appeared at some of the court
festivities, and I had many opportunities to observe him. He
seemed sprightly, with a certain exuberance of manner in meeting
his friends which was not unpleasing; but it was noticeable that
his hearty salutations were by no means confined to men and women
of his own age; he was respectful to old men, and that is always
a good sign; it could be easily seen, too, that while he
especially sought the celebrities of the Franco-Prussian War, he
took pains to show respect to men eminent in science, literature,
and art. There seemed a healthy, hearty life in him well
befitting a young man of his position and prospects: very
different was he from the heir to the throne in another country,
whom I had occasion to observe at similar functions, and who
seemed to regard the whole human race with indifference.

Making the usual visits in Berlin society, I found that people
qualified to judge had a good opinion of his abilities; and not
infrequent were prophecies that the young man would some day
really accomplish something.

My first opportunity to converse with him came at his marriage,
when a special reception was given by him and his bride to the
diplomatic corps. He spoke at considerable length on American
topics--on railways, steamers, public works, on Americans whom he
had met, and of the things he most wished to see on our side the
water; altogether he seemed to be broad-minded, alert, with a
quick sense of humor, and yet with a certain solidity of judgment
beneath it all.

After my departure from Berlin there flitted over to America
conflicting accounts of him, and during the short reign of his
father there was considerable growth of myth and legend to his
disadvantage. Any attempt to distil the truth from it all would
be futile; suffice it that both in Germany and Great Britain
careful statements by excellent authorities on both sides have
convinced me that in all that trying crisis the young man's
course was dictated by a manly sense of duty.

The first thing after his accession which really struck me as a
revelation of his character was his dismissal of Bismarck. By
vast numbers of people this was thought the act of an exultant
young ruler eager to escape all restraint, and this opinion was
considerably promoted in English-speaking countries by an
ephemeral cause: Tenniel's cartoon in "Punch" entitled "Dropping
the Pilot." As most people who read this will remember, the iron
chancellor was therein represented as an old, weatherbeaten
pilot, in storm-coat and sou'wester, plodding heavily down the
gangway at the side of a great ship; while far above him, leaning
over the bulwarks, was the young Emperor, jaunty, with a
satisfied smirk, and wearing his crown. There was in that little
drawing a spark of genius, and it sped far; probably no other
cartoon in "Punch" ever produced so deep an effect, save,
possibly, that which appeared during the Crimean War with the
legend "General February turned Traitor"; it went everywhere,
appealing to deep sentiment in human hearts.

And yet, to me--admiring Bismarck as the greatest German since
Luther, but reflecting upon the vast interests involved--this act
was a proof that the young monarch was a stronger man than any
one had supposed him to be. Certainly this dismissal must have
caused him much regret; all his previous life had shown that he
admired Bismarck--almost adored him. It gave evidence of a deep
purpose and a strong will. Louis XIV had gained great credit
after the death of Mazarin by declaring his intention of ruling
alone--of taking into his own hands the vast work begun by
Richelieu; but that was the merest nothing compared to this. This
was, apparently, as if Louis XIII, immediately after the triumphs
of Richelieu, had dismissed him and declared his purpose of
henceforth being his own prime minister. The young Emperor had
found himself at the parting of the ways, and had deliberately
chosen the right path, and this in spite of almost universal
outcries at home and abroad. The OLD Emperor William could let
Bismarck have his way to any extent: when his chancellor sulked
he could drive to the palace in the Wilhelmstrasse, pat his old
servant on the back, chaff him, scold him, laugh at him, and set
him going again, and no one thought less of the old monarch on
that account. But for the YOUNG Emperor William to do this would
be fatal; it would class him at once among the rois
fatneants--the mere figureheads--"the solemnly constituted
impostors," and in this lay not merely dangers to the young
monarch, but to his dynasty and to the empire.

His recognition of this fact was, and is, to me a proof that the
favorable judgments of him which I had heard expressed in Berlin
were well founded.

But this decision did much to render him unpopular in the United
States, and various other reports which flitted over increased
the unfavorable feeling. There came reports of his speeches to
young recruits, in which, to put it mildly, there was preached a
very high theory of the royal and imperial prerogative, and a
very exacting theory of the duty of the subject. Little account
was taken by distant observers of the fundamental facts in the
case; namely, that Germany, being a nation with no natural
frontiers, with hostile military nations on all sides, and with
serious intestine tendencies to anarchy, must, if she is to live,
have the best possible military organization and a central power
strong to curb all the forces of the empire, and quick to hurl
them. Moreover, these speeches, which seemed so absurd to the
average American, hardly astonished any one who had lived long in
Germany, and especially in Prussia. The doctrines laid down by
the young monarch to the recruits were, after all, only what they
had heard a thousand times from pulpit and school desk, and are a
logical result of Prussian history and geography. Something, too,
must be allowed to a young man gifted, energetic, suddenly
brought into so responsible a position, looking into and beyond
his empire, seeing hostile nations north, south, east, and west,
with elements of unreason fermenting within its own borders, and
feeling that the only reliance of his country is in the good
right arms of its people, in their power of striking heavily and
quickly, and in unquestioning obedience to authority.

In the history of American opinion at this time there was one
comical episode. The strongholds of opinion among us friendly to
Germany have been, for the last sixty years, our universities and
colleges, in so many of which are professors and tutors who,
having studied in Germany, have brought back a certain love for
the German fatherland. To them there came in those days a curious
tractate by a little-known German professor--one of the most
curious satires in human history. To all appearance it was simply
a biographical study of the young Roman emperor Caligula. It
displayed the advantages he had derived from a brave and pious
imperial ancestry, and especially from his devout and gifted
father; it showed his natural gifts and acquired graces, his
versatility, his growing restlessness, his manifold ambitions,
his contempt of wise counsel, the dismissal of his most eminent
minister, his carelessness of thoughtful opinion, his meddling in
anything and everything, his displays in the theater and in the
temples of the gods, his growth--until the world recognized him
simply as a beast of prey, a monster. The whole narrative was so
managed that the young prince who had just come to the German
throne seemed the exact counterpart of the youthful Roman
monarch--down to the cruel stage of his career; THAT was left to
anticipation. The parallels and resemblances between the two were
arranged with consummate skill, and whenever there was a passage
which seemed to present an exact chronicle of some well-known
saying or doing of the modern ruler there would follow an
asterisk with a reference to a passage in Tacitus or Suetonius or
Dion Cassius or other eminent authority exactly warranting the
statement. This piece of historical jugglery ran speedily through
thirty editions, while from all parts of Germany came refutations
and counter-refutations by scores, all tending to increase its
notoriety. Making a short tour through Germany at that period,
and stopping in a bookseller's shop at Munich to get a copy of
this treatise, I was shown a pile of pamphlets which it had
called out, at least a foot high. Comically enough, its author
could not be held responsible for it, since the name of the young
Emperor William was never mentioned; all it claimed to give or
did give was the life of Caligula, and certainly there was no
crime in writing a condemnatory history of him or any other
imperial miscreant who died nearly two thousand years ago. In the
American colleges and universities this tractate doubtless made
good friends of Germany uneasy, and it even shocked some
excellent men who knew much of Roman history and little of
mankind; but gradually common sense resumed its sway. As men
began to think they began to realize that the modern German
Empire resembles in no particular that debased and corrupt mass
with which the imperial Roman wretches had to do, and that the
new German sovereign, in all his characteristics and tendencies
is radically a different being from any one of the crazy beasts
of prey who held the imperial power during the decline of Rome.

Sundry epigrams had also come over to us; among others, the
characterization of the three German Emperors: the first William
as "Der greise Kaiser," the Emperor Frederick as "Der weise
Kaiser," and the second William as "Der Reise Kaiser"; and there
were unpleasant murmurs regarding sundry trials for petty
treason. But at the same time there was evident, in the midst of
American jokes at the young Emperor's expense, a growing feeling
that there was something in him; that, at any rate, he was not a
fat-witted, Jesuit-ridden, mistress-led monarch of the old
Bourbon or Hapsburg sort; that he had "go" in him--some fine
impulses, evidently; and here and there a quotation from a speech
showed insight into the conditions of the present world and
aspiration for its betterment.

In another chapter I have given a general sketch of the
conversation at my first presentation to him as ambassador; it
strengthened in my mind the impression already formed,--that he
was not a monarch of the old pattern. The talk was not
conventional; he was evidently fond of discoursing upon
architecture, sculpture, and music, but not less gifted in
discussing current political questions, and in various
conversations afterward this fact was observable. Conventional
talk was reduced to a minimum; the slightest hint was enough to
start a line of remark worth listening to.

Opportunities for conversation were many. Besides the usual
"functions" of various sorts, there were interviews by special
appointment, and in these the young monarch was neither backward
in presenting his ideas nor slow in developing them. The range of
subjects which interested him seemed unlimited, but there were
some which he evidently preferred: of these were all things
relating to ships and shipping, and one of the first subjects
which came up in conversations between us was the books of
Captain Mahan, which he discussed very intelligently, awarding
great praise to their author, and saying that he required all his
naval officers to read them.

Another subject in order was art in all its developments. During
the first years of my stay he was erecting the thirty-two
historical groups on the Avenue of Victory in the Thiergarten,
near my house. My walks took me frequently by them, and they
interested me, not merely by their execution, but by their
historical purpose, commemorating as they do the services of his
predecessors, and of the strongest men who made their reigns
significant during nearly a thousand years. He was always ready
to discuss these works at length, whether from the artistic,
historical, or educational point of view. Not only to me, but to
my wife he insisted on their value as a means of arousing
intelligent patriotism in children and youth. He dwelt with pride
on the large number of gifted sculptors in his realm, and his
comments on their work were worth listening to. He himself has
artistic gifts which in his earlier days were shown by at least
one specimen of his work as a painter in the Berlin Annual
Exhibition; and in the window of a silversmith's shop on the
Linden I once saw a prize cup for a yacht contest showing much
skill in invention and beauty in form, while near it hung the
pencil drawing for it in his own hand.

His knowledge of music and love for it have been referred to
elsewhere in these chapters. Noteworthy was it that his feeling
was not at all for music of a thin, showy sort; he seemed to be
touched by none of the prevailing fashions, but to cherish a
profound love for the really great things in music. This was
often shown, as, for example, at the concert at Potsdam to which
he invited President and Mrs. Harrison, and in his comments upon
the pieces then executed. But the most striking evidence of it
was the music in the Royal Chapel. It has been given me to hear
more than once the best music of the Sistine Pauline, and Lateran
choirs at Rome, of the three great choirs at St. Petersburg, of
the chorus at Bayreuth, and of other well-known assemblages under
high musical direction; but the cathedral choir at Berlin, in its
best efforts, surpassed any of these, and the music, both
instrumental and choral, which reverberates under the dome of the
imperial chapel at the great anniversaries there celebrated is
nowhere excelled. For operatic music of the usual sort he seemed
to care little. If a gala opera was to be given, the chances were
that he would order the performance of some piece of more
historical than musical interest. Hence, doubtless, it was that
during my whole stay the opera at Dresden surpassed decidedly
that at Berlin, while in the higher realms of music Berlin
remained unequaled.

Dramatic art is another field in which he takes an enlightened
interest: he has great reason for doing so, both as a statesman
and as a man.

As a result of observation and reflection during a long life
which has touched public men and measures in wide variety, I
would desire for my country three things above all others, to
supplement our existing American civilization: from Great Britain
her administration of criminal justice; from Germany her theater;
and from any European country, save Russia, Spain, and Turkey,
its government of cities.

As to the second of these desired contributions, ten years in
Germany at various periods during an epoch covering now nearly
half a century have convinced me that her theater, next after her
religious inheritance, gives the best stimulus and sustenance to
the better aspirations of her people. Through it, and above all
by Schiller, the Kantian ethics have been brought into the
thinking of the average man and woman; and not only Schiller, but
Lessing, Goethe, Gutzkow, and a long line of others have given an
atmosphere in which ennobling ideals bloom for the German youth,
during season after season, as if in the regular course of
nature. The dramatic presentation, even in the smallest towns,
is, as a rule, good; the theater and its surroundings are, in the
main, free from the abuses and miseries of the stage in
English-speaking lands, and, above all, from that all-pervading
lubricity and pornographic stench which have made the French
theater of the last half of the nineteenth century a main cause
in the decadence of the French people. In most German towns of
importance one finds the drama a part of the daily life of its
citizens--ennobling in its higher ranges, and in its influence
clean and wholesome.

It may be added that in no city of any English-speaking country
is Shakspere presented so fully, so well, and to such large and
appreciative audiences as in Berlin. All this, and more, the
Emperor knows, and he acts upon his knowledge. Interesting was it
at various times to see him sitting with his older children at
the theater, evidently awakening their interest in dramatic
masterpieces; and among these occasions there come back to me,
especially, the evenings when he thus sat, evidently discussing
with them the thought and action in Shakspere's "Julius Caesar"
and "Coriolanus," as presented on the stage before us. I could
well imagine his comments on the venom of demagogues, on the
despotism of mobs, on the weaknesses of strong men, and on the
need, in great emergencies, of a central purpose and firm
control. His view of the true character and mission of the
theater he has given at various times, and one of his talks with
the actors in the Royal Theater, shortly after my arrival, may be
noted as typical. In it occur passages like the following: "When
I came into the government, ten years ago, . . . I was convinced
that this theater, under the guidance of the monarch, should,
like the school and the university, have as its mission the
development of the rising generation, the promotion of the
highest intellectual good in our German fatherland, and the
ennobling of our people in mind and character.... I beg of you
that you continue to stand by me, each in his own way and place,
serving the spirit of idealism, and waging war against
materialism and all un-German corruptions of the stage."

After various utterances showing his steady purpose in the same
direction, there came out, in one of the later years of my stay,
sundry remarks of his showing a new phase of the same thought, as
follows: "The theater should not only be an important factor in
education and in the promotion of morals, but it should also
present incarnations of elegance, of beauty, of the highest
conceptions of art; it should not discourage us with sad pictures
of the past, with bitter awakenings from illusions, but be
purified, elevated, strengthened for presenting the ideal. . . .
Our ordinary life gives us every day the most mournful realities,
and the modern authors whose pleasure it is to bring these before
us upon the stage have accepted an unhealthy mission and
accomplish a discouraging work."

In his desire to see the theater aid in developing German ideals
and in enriching German life, he has promoted presentations of
the great episodes and personages in German history. Some of
these, by Wildenbruch and Lauff, permeated with veins of true
poetry, are attractive and ennobling. Of course not all were
entirely successful. I recall one which glorified especially a
great epoch in the history of the house of Hohenzollern, the
comical effect of which on one of my diplomatic colleagues I have
mentioned elsewhere; but this, so far as my experience goes, was
an exception.

There seems much reason for the Emperor's strenuous endeavors in
this field. The German theater still remains more wholesome than
that of any other country, but I feel bound to say that, since my
earlier acquaintance with it, from 1854 to 1856 and from 1879 to
1881, there has come some deterioration, and this is especially
shown in various dramas which have been held up as triumphs. In
these, an inoculation from the French drama seems to have
resulted in destruction of the nobler characteristics of the
German stage. One detects the cant of Dumas, fils, but not his
genius; and, when this cant is mingled with German pessimism, it
becomes at times unspeakably repulsive. The zeal for this new
drama seems to me a fad, and rather a slimy fad. With all my
heart I wish the Emperor success in his effort to keep the German
stage upon the higher planes.

Another subject which came up from time to time was that of
archaelogical investigation. Once, in connection with some talk
on German railway enterprises in Asia Minor, I touched upon his
great opportunities to make his reign illustrious by services to
science in that region. He entered into the subject heartily; it
was at once evident that he was awake to its possibilities, and
he soon showed me much more than I knew before of what had been
done and was doing, but pointed out special difficulties in
approaching, at present, some most attractive fields of
investigation.

Interesting also were his views on education, and more than once
the conversation touched this ground. As to his own academic
training, there is ample testimony that he appreciated the main
classical authors whom he read in the gymnasium at Cassel; but it
was refreshing to hear and to read various utterances of his
against gerund-grinding and pedantry. He recognizes the fact that
the worst enemies of classical instruction in Germany, as,
indeed, elsewhere, have been they of its own household, and he
has stated this view as vigorously as did Sydney Smith in England
and Francis Wayland in America. Whenever he dwelt on this subject
the views which he presented at such length to the Educational
Commission were wont to come out with force and piquancy.

On one occasion our discussion turned upon physical education,
and especially upon the value to students of boating. As an old
Yale boating man, a member of the first crew which ever sent a
challenge to Harvard, and one who had occasion in the
administration of an American university to consider this form of
exercise from various standpoints, I may say that his view of its
merits and his way of promoting it seemed to me thoroughly
sensible.

From time to time some mention from me of city improvements
observed during my daily walks led to an interesting discussion.
The city of Berlin is wonderfully well governed, and exhibits all
those triumphs of modern municipal skill and devotion which are
so conspicuously absent, as a rule, from our American cities.
While his capital preserves its self-governing powers, it is
clear that he purposes to have his full say as to everything
within his jurisdiction. There were various examples of this, and
one of them especially interested me: the renovation of the
Thiergarten. This great park, virtually a gift of the
Hohenzollern monarchs, which once lay upon the borders of the
city, but is now in the very heart of it, had gradually fallen
far short of what it should have been. Even during my earlier
stays in Berlin it was understood that some of his predecessors,
and especially his father, had desired to change its corpse-like
and swampy character and give it more of the features of a
stately park, but that popular opposition to any such change had
always shown itself too bitter and uncompromising. This seemed a
great pity, for while there were some fine trees, a great
majority of them were so crowded together that there was no
chance of broad, free growth either for trees or for shrubbery.
There was nothing of that exquisitely beautiful play, upon
expanses of green turf, of light and shade through wide-expanded
boughs and broad masses of foliage, which gives such delight in
any of the finer English or American parks. Down to about half a
dozen years since it had apparently been thought best not to
interfere, and even when attention was called to the dark, swampy
characteristics of much of the Thiergarten, the answer was that
it was best to humor the Berliners; but about the beginning of my
recent stay the young Emperor intervened with decision and force,
his work was thorough, and as my windows looked out over one
corner of this field of his operations, their progress interested
me, and they were alluded to from time to time in our
conversations. Interesting was it to note that his energy was
all-sufficient; the Berliners seemed to regard his activity as
Arabs regard a sand-storm,--as predestined and irresistible,--and
the universal verdict now justifies his course, both on sanitary
and artistic grounds.

The same thing may be said, on the whole, of the influence he has
exerted on the great adornments of his capital city. The position
and character of various monuments on which he has impressed his
ideas, and the laying out and decoration of sundry streets and
parks, do credit not merely to his artistic sense, but to his
foresight.

This prompt yet wise intervention, actuated by a public spirit
not only strong but intelligent, is seen, in various other parts
of the empire, in the preservation and restoration of its
architectural glories. When he announced to me at Potsdam his
intention to present specimens representative of German
architecture and sculpture to the Germanic Museum at Harvard, he
showed, in enumerating and discussing the restorations at
Marienburg and Naumburg, the bas-reliefs at Halberstadt, the
masks and statues of Andreas Schluter at Berlin, and the
Renaissance and rococo work at Lubeck and Danzig, a knowledge and
appreciation worthy of a trained architect and archaeologist.

As to his feeling for literature, his addresses on various
occasions show amply that he has read to good purpose, not only
in the best authors of his own, but of other countries. While
there is not the slightest tinge of pedantry in his speeches or
talk, there crop out in them evidences of a curious breadth and
universality in his reading. His line of reading for amusement
was touched when, at the close of an hour of serious official
business, an illustration of mine from Rudyard Kipling led him to
recall many of that author's most striking situations, into which
he entered with great zest; and at various other times he cited
sayings of Mark Twain which he seemed especially to enjoy. Here
it may be mentioned that one may note the same breadth in his
love for art; for not only does he rejoice in the higher
achievements of architecture, sculpture, and painting, but he
takes pleasure in lighter work, and an American may note that he
is greatly interested in the popular illustrations of Gibson.

I once asked some of the leading people nearest him how he found
time to observe so wide a range, and received answer that it was
as much a marvel to them as to me; he himself once told me that
he found much time for reading during his hunting excursions.

Nor does he make excursions into various fields of knowledge by
books alone. Any noteworthy discovery or gain in any leading
field of thought or effort attracts his attention at once, and
must be presented to him by some one who ranks among its foremost
exponents.

But here it should be especially noted that, active and original
as the Emperor is, he is not, and never has been, caught by FADS
either in art, science, literature, or in any other field of
human activity. The great artists who cannot draw or paint, and
who, therefore, despise those who can and are glorified by those
who cannot; the great composers who can give us neither harmony
nor melody, and therefore have a fanatical following among those
who labor under like disabilities; the great writers who are
unable to attain strength, lucidity, or beauty, and therefore
secure praise for profundity and occult wisdom,--none of these
influence him. In these, as in other things, the Hohenzollern
sanity asserts itself. He recognizes the fact that normal and
healthy progress is by an evolution of the better out of the
good, and that the true function of genius in every field is to
promote some phase of this evolution either by aiding to create a
better environment, or by getting sight of higher ideals.

As to his manner, it is in ordinary intercourse simple, natural,
kindly, and direct, and on great public occasions dignified
without the slightest approach to pomposity. I have known scores
of our excellent fellow-citizens in little offices who were
infinitely more assuming. It was once said of a certain United
States senator that "one must climb a ladder to speak with him";
no one would dream of making any assertion of this sort regarding
the present ruler of the Prussian Kingdom and German Empire.

But it would be unjust to suppose that minor gifts and
acquirements form the whole of his character; they are but a part
of its garb. He is certainly developing the characteristics of a
successful ruler of men and the solid qualities of a statesman.
It was my fortune, from time to time, to hear him discuss at some
length current political questions; and his views were presented
with knowledge, clearness, and force. There was nothing at all
flighty in any of his statements or arguments. There is evidently
in him a large fund of that Hohenzollern common sense which has
so often happily modified German, and even European, politics. He
recognizes, of course, as his ancestors generally have done, that
his is a military monarchy, and that Germany is and must remain a
besieged camp; hence his close attention to the army and navy.
Every one of our embassy military attaches expressed to me his
surprise at the efficiency of his inspections of troops, of his
discrimination between things essential and not essential, and of
his insight into current military questions. Even more striking
testimony was given to me by our naval attaches as to his minute
knowledge not only of his own navy, but of the navies of other
powers, and especially as to the capabilities of various classes
of ships and, indeed, of individual vessels. One thoroughly
capable of judging told me that he doubted whether there was any
admiral in our service who knew more about every American ship of
any importance than does the Kaiser. It has been said that his
devotion to the German navy is a whim. That view can hardly
command respect among those who have noted his labor for years
upon its development, and his utterances regarding its connection
with the future of his empire. As a simple matter of fact, he
recognizes the triumphs of German commercial enterprises, and
sees in them a guarantee for the extension of German power and
for a glory more permanent than any likely to be obtained by
military operations in these times. When any candid American
studies what has been done, or, rather, what has NOT been done,
in his own country, with its immense seacoast and its many
harbors on two oceans, to build up a great merchant navy, and
compares it with what has been accomplished during the last fifty
years by the steady, earnest, honest enterprise of Germany, with
merely its little strip of coast on a northern inland sea, and
with only the Hanseatic ports as a basis, he may well have
searchings of heart. The "Shipping Trust" seems to be the main
outcome of our activity, and lines of the finest steamers running
to all parts of the world the outcome of theirs. There is a
history here which we may well ponder; the young Emperor has not
only thought but acted upon it.

As to yet broader work, the crucial test of a ruler is his
ability to select MEN, to stand by them when he has selected
them, and to decide wisely how far the plans which he has thought
out, and they have thought out, can be fused into a policy worthy
of his country. Judged by this test, the young monarch would seem
worthy of his position; the men he has called to the various
ministries are remarkably fit for their places, several of them
showing very high capacity, and some of them genius.

As to his relation to the legislative bodies, it is sometimes
claimed that he has lost much by his too early and open
proclamation of his decisions, intentions, and wishes; and it can
hardly be denied that something must be pardoned to the ardor of
his patriotic desire to develop the empire in all its activities;
but, after all due allowance has been made, there remains
undeniable evidence of his statesmanlike ability to impress his
views upon the national and state legislatures. A leading member
of one of the parliamentary groups, very frequently in opposition
to government measures, said to me: "After all, it is impossible
for us to resist him; he knows Germany so well, and his heart is
so thoroughly in his proposals, that he is sure to gain his
points sooner or later."

An essential element of strength in this respect is his
acquaintance with men and things in every part of his empire.
Evidences of this were frequent in his public letters and
telegrams to cities, towns, groups, and individuals. Nor was it
"meddling and muddling." If any fine thing was done in any part
of the empire, he seemed the first to take notice of it. Typical
of his breadth of view were the cases of various ship captains
and others who showed heroism in remote parts of the world, his
telegram of hearty approval being usually the first thing they
received on coming within reach of it, and substantial evidence
of his gratitude meeting them later.

On the other hand, as to his faculty for minute observation and
prompt action upon it: a captain of one of the great liners
between Hamburg and New York told me that when his ship was ready
to sail the Emperor came on board, looked it over, and after
approving various arrangements said dryly, "Captain, I should
think you were too old a sailor to let people give square corners
to your tables." The captain quietly acted upon this hint; and
when, many months later, the Kaiser revisited the ship, he said,
"Well, captain, I am glad to see that you have rounded the
corners of your tables."

He is certainly a working man. The record of each of his days at
Berlin or Potsdam, as given in the press, shows that every hour,
from dawn to long after dusk, brings its duties--duties demanding
wide observation, close study, concentration of thought, and
decision. Nor is his attention bounded by German interests. He is
a keen student of the world at large. At various interviews there
was ample evidence of his close observation of the present
President of the United States, and of appreciation of his doings
and qualities; so, too, when the struggle for decent government
in New York was going on, he showed an intelligent interest in
Mr. Seth Low; and in various other American matters there was
recognition of the value of any important stroke of good work
done by our countrymen.

As to his view of international questions, two of the
opportunities above referred to especially occur to me here.

The first of these was during the troubles in Crete between the
Greeks and the Turks. As I talked one evening with one of my
colleagues who represented a power especially interested in the
matter, the Emperor came up and at once entered into the
discussion. He stated the position of various powers in relation
to it, and suggested a line of conduct. There was straightforward
good sense in his whole contention, a refreshing absence of
conventionalities, and a very clear insight into the realities of
the question, with a shrewd forecast of the result. More
interesting to me was another conversation, in the spring of
1899. As the time drew near for the sessions of the Peace
Conference at The Hague, I was making preparations for leaving
Berlin to take up my duty in that body, when one morning there
appeared at the embassy a special messenger from the Emperor
requesting me to come to the palace. My reception was hearty, and
he plunged at once into the general subject by remarking, "What
the conference will most need is good common sense; and I have
sent Count Munster, my ambassador at Paris, because he has lots
of it." With this preface, he went very fully into the questions
likely to come before the conference, speaking regarding the
attitude of the United States and the various powers of Europe
and Asia with a frankness, fullness, and pungency which at times
rather startled me. On the relations between the United States,
Germany, and Great Britain he was especially full. Very
suggestive also were his remarks regarding questions in the far
East, and especially on the part likely to be played by Japan and
China--the interests of various powers in these questions being
presented in various aspects, some of them decidedly original and
suggestive. While there were points on which we could hardly
agree, there were some suggestions which proved to be of especial
value, and to one of them is due the fact that on most questions
the German delegates at The Hague stood by the Americans, and
that on the most important question of all they finally, after a
wide divergence from our view, made common cause with Great
Britain and the United States. I regret that the time has not
come when it is permissible to give his conversation in detail;
it treated a multitude of current topics, and even burning
questions, with statesmanlike breadth, and at the same time with
the shrewdness of a man of the world. There were in it sundry
personal touches which interested me; among others, a statement
regarding Cecil Rhodes, the South African magnate, and a
reference to sundry doings and sayings of his own which had been
misrepresented, especially in England. One point in this was
especially curious. He said, "Some people find fault with me for
traveling so much; but this is part of my business: I try to know
my empire and my people, to see for myself what they need and
what is going on, what is doing and who are doing it. It is my
duty also to know men and countries outside the empire. I am not
like ----," naming a sovereign well known in history, "who never
stirred out of the house if he could help it, and so let men and
things go on as they pleased."

This union of breadth and minuteness in his view of his empire
and of the world is, perhaps, his most striking characteristic.
It may be safely said that, at any given moment, he knows
directly, or will shortly know, the person and work of every man
in his empire who is really taking the lead in anything worthy of
special study or close attention. The German court is considered
very exclusive, but one constantly saw at its assemblages men
noted in worthy fields from every part of Germany and, indeed, of
Europe. Herein is a great difference between the German and
Russian courts. If, during my official life at St. Petersburg, I
wished to make the acquaintance of a man noted in science,
literature, or art, he must be found at professorial gatherings
across the Neva. He rarely, if ever, appeared in the throng of
military and civil officials at the Winter Palace. But at Berlin
such men took an honored place at the court among those whom the
ruler sought out and was glad to converse with.

As to the world outside the empire, I doubt whether any other
sovereign equals him in personal acquaintance with leaders in
every field of worthy activity. It was interesting from time to
time to look over the official lists of his guests at breakfast,
or luncheon, or dinner, or supper, or at military exercises, or
at the theater; for they usually embraced men noted in civil,
ecclesiastical, or military affairs, in literature, science, art,
commerce, or industry from every nation. One class was
conspicuous by its absence at all such gatherings, large or
small; namely, the MERELY rich. Rich men there were, but they
were always men who had done something of marked value to their
country or to mankind; for the mere "fatty tumors" of the
financial world he evidently cared nothing.

A special characteristic in the German ruler is independence of
thought. This quality should not be confounded, as it often is,
with mere offhand decision based upon prejudices or whimsies. One
example, which I have given elsewhere, may be here referred to as
showing that his rapid judgments are based upon clear insight:
his OWN insight, and not that of others. On my giving him news of
the destruction of the Maine at Havana, he at once asked me
whether the explosion was from the outside; and from first to
last, against the opinions of his admirals and captains, insisted
that it must have been so.

He is certainly, in the opinion of all who know him,
impulsive--indeed, a very large proportion of his acts which
strike the attention of the world seem the result of impulse;
but, as a rule, it will be found that beneath these impulses is a
calm judgment. Even when this seems not to be the case, they are
likely to appeal all the more strongly to humanity at large.
Typical was his impulsive proposal to make up to the Regent of
Bavaria the art appropriation denied by sundry unpatriotic
bigots. Its immediate result was a temporary triumph for the
common enemy, but it certainly drew to the Emperor the hearts of
an immense number of people, not only inside, but outside his
empire; and, in the long run, it will doubtless be found to have
wrought powerfully for right reason. As an example of an
utterance of his which to many might seem to be the result of a
momentary impulse, but which reveals sober contemplation of
problems looming large before the United States as well as
Germany, I might cite a remark made last year to an American
eminent in public affairs. He said, "You in America may do what
you please, but I will not suffer capitalists in Germany to suck
the life out of the working-men and then fling them like squeezed
lemon-skins into the gutter."

Any one who runs through the printed volume of his speeches will
see that he is fertile in ideas on many subjects, and knows how
to impress them upon his audiences. His voice and manner are
good, and at times there are evidences of deep feeling, showing
the man beneath the garb of the sovereign. This was especially
the case in his speech at the coming of age of his son. The
audience was noteworthy, there being present the Austrian
Emperor, members of all the great ruling houses of Europe the
foremost men in contemporary German history, and the diplomatic
representatives of foreign powers--an audience representing wide
differences in points of view and in lines of thought, yet no one
of them could fail to be impressed by sundry references to the
significance of the occasion.

Even the most rapid sketch of the Emperor would be inadequate
without some reference to his religious views. It is curious to
note that while Frederick the Great is one of the gods of his
idolatry, the two monarchs are separated by a whole orb of
thought in their religious theories and feelings. While a
philosophical observer may see in this the result of careful
training in view of the evident interests of the monarchy in
these days, he must none the less acknowledge the reality and
depth of those feelings in the present sovereign. No one who has
observed his conduct and utterances, and especially no one who
has read his sermon and prayer on the deck of one of his
war-ships just at the beginning of the Chinese war, can doubt
that there is in his thinking a genuine substratum of religious
feeling. It is true that at times one is reminded of the remark
made to an American ecclesiastic by an eminent German theological
professor regarding that tough old monarch, Frederick William I;
namely, that while he was deeply religious, his religion was "of
an Old Testament type." Of course, the religion of the present
Emperor is of a type vastly higher than that of his ancestor,
whose harshness to the youth who afterward became the great
Frederick has been depicted in the "Memoirs" of the Margravine of
Bayreuth; but there remains clearly in the religion of the
present Emperor a certain "Old Testament" character--a feeling of
direct reliance upon the Almighty, a consciousness of his own
part in guiding a chosen people, and a readiness, if need be, to
smite the Philistines. One phase of this feeling appears in the
music at the great anniversaries, when the leading men of the
empire are brought together beneath the dome of the Palace
Church. The anthems executed by the bands and choirs, and the
great chorals sung by the congregation, breathe anything but the
spirit of the Sermon on the Mount; they seem rather to echo the
grim old battle-hymns of the Thirty Years' War and the war in the
Netherlands.

And yet it must be said that there goes with this a remarkable
feeling of justice to his subjects of other confessions than his
own, and a still more remarkable breadth of view as regards the
relations of modern science to what is generally held as orthodox
theology. The fearlessness with which he recently summoned
Professor Delitzsch to unfold to him and to his family and court
the newly revealed relations of Assyrian research to biblical
study, which gave such alarm in highly orthodox circles, and his
fairness in estimating these researches, certainly revealed
breadth of mind as well as trust in what he considered the
fundamental verities of religion.

A good example of the curious union, in his mind, of religious
feeling, tolerance, and shrewd policy is shown in various
dealings with his Roman Catholic subjects.

Of course he is not ignorant that his very existence as King of
Prussia and German Emperor is a thorn in the side of the Roman
Curia; he knows, as every thinking German knows, that, with the
possible exception of the British monarchy, no other is so hated
by the Vatican monsignori as his own. He is perfectly aware of
the part taken in that quarter against his country and dynasty at
all times, and especially during the recent wars; and yet all
this seems not to influence him in the slightest as regards
justice to his Roman Catholic subjects. He does indeed, resist
the return of the Jesuits into the empire,--his keen insight
forbids him to imitate the policy of Frederick the Great in this
respect,--but his dealings with the Roman Catholic Church at
large show not merely wisdom but kindliness. If he felt bound to
resist, and did successfully resist, the efforts of Cardinal
Rampolla to undermine German rule and influence in Alsace and
Lorraine, there was a quiet fairness and justice in his action
which showed a vast deal of tolerant wisdom. His visits to the
old Abbey of Laach, his former relations with its young abbot,
his settlement of a vexed question by the transfer of the abbot
to the bishopric of Metz, his bringing of a loyal German into
episcopal power at Strasburg, his recent treatment of the prince
bishop of Breslau and the archbishop of Cologne, all show a wise
breadth of view. Perhaps one of the brightest diplomatic strokes
in his career was his dealing with a Vatican question during his
journey in the East. For years there had been growing up in world
politics the theory that France, no matter how she may deal with
monks and nuns and ultramontane efforts within her own immediate
boundaries, is their protector in all the world beside, and
especially in the Holy Land. The relation of this theory to the
Crimean War, fifty years ago, is one of the curious things of
history, and from that day to this it has seemed to be hardening
more and more into a fixed policy--even into something like a
doctrine of international law. Interesting was it, then, to see
the Emperor, on his visit to the Sultan, knock the ground from
under the feet of all this doctrine by securing for the Roman
Catholic interest at Jerusalem what the French had never been
able to obtain--the piece of ground at the Holy City, so long
coveted by pious Catholics, whereon, according to tradition, once
stood the lodging of the Virgin Mary. This the Emperor quietly
obtained of the Sultan, and, after assisting at the dedication of
a Lutheran church at Jerusalem, he telegraphed to the Pope and to
other representatives of the older church that he had made a gift
of this sacred site to those who had so long and so ardently
desired it.

Considerable criticism has been made on the score of his evident
appreciation of his position, and his theory of his relation to
it; but when his point of view is cited, one perhaps appreciates
it more justly. I have already shown this point of view in the
account of the part taken by him at the two-hundredth anniversary
of the Royal Academy, and of his remark, afterward, contrasting
his theory of monarchy with that of Dom Pedro of Brazil. Jocose
as was the manner of it, it throws light upon his idea of his
duty in the state. While a constitutional monarch, he is not so
in the British sense. British constitutional monarchy is made
possible by the "silver streak"; but around the German Empire, as
every German feels in his heart, is no "silver streak." This fact
should be constantly borne in mind by those who care really to
understand the conditions of national existence on the continent
of Europe. Herein lies the answer to one charge that has been so
often made against the German Emperor--of undue solicitude
regarding his official and personal position, as shown in sundry
petty treason trials. The simple fact is that German public
opinion, embodied in German law, has arrived at the conclusion
that it is not best to allow the head of the state to be the
sport of every crank or blackguard who can wield a pen or pencil.
The American view, which allowed Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley
to be attacked in all the moods and tenses of vituperation, and
to be artistically portrayed as tyrants, drunkards, clowns,
beasts of prey, and reptiles, has not yet been received into
German modes of thought. Luther said that he "would not suffer
any man to treat the Gospel as a sow treats a sack of oats"; and
that seems to be the feeling inherent in the German mind
regarding the treatment of those who represent the majesty of the
nation.

And here a word regarding the relation of Kaiser and people. In
one of the letters to John Adams written by Thomas Jefferson as
they both were approaching the close of life, the founder of
American democracy declared that he had foreseen the failure of
French popular rule, and had therefore favored in France,
democrat though he was, a constitutional monarchy. Had Jefferson
lived in our time, he would doubtless have arrived at a similar
conclusion regarding Germany, for he would have taken account of
the difference between a country like ours, with no long period
of history which had given to dominant political ideas a
religious character,--a country stretching from ocean to ocean,
with no neighbors to make us afraid,--and a country like
Germany, with an ancient historic head, with no natural
frontiers, and beset on every side by enemies; and Jefferson
would doubtless have taken account also of the fact that, were
the matter submitted to popular vote, the present sovereign, with
his present powers, would be the choice of an overwhelming
majority of the German people. The German imperial system, like
our own American republican system, is the result of an evolution
during many generations--an evolution which has produced the
present government, decided its character, fixed its form,
allotted its powers, and decided on the men at the head of it;
and this fact an American, no matter how devoted to republicanism
and democracy in his own country, may well acknowledge to be as
fixed in the political as in the physical world.

Of course some very bitter charges have been made against him as
regards Germany, the main one being that he does not love
parliamentary government and has, at various times, infringed
upon the constitution of the empire.

As to loving parliamentary government, he would probably say that
he cannot regard a system as final which, while attaching to the
front of the chariot of progress a full team to pull it forward,
attaches another team to the rear to pull it backward. But
whatever his theory, he has in practice done his best to promote
the efficiency of parliamentary government, and to increase
respect for it in his kingdom of Prussia, by naming as life
members of the Senate sundry men of the highest character and of
immense value in the discussion of the most important questions.
Two of these, appointed during my stay, I knew and admired. The
first, Professor Gustav Schmoller, formerly rector of the
University of Berlin, is one of the leading economists of the
world, who has shown genius in studying and exhibiting the
practical needs of the German people, and in discerning the best
solutions of similar problems throughout the world--profound,
eloquent, conciliatory, sure to be of immense value as a senator.
The second, Professor Slaby, director of the great technical
institution of Germany at Charlottenburg, is one of the leading
authorities of the world on everything that pertains to the
applications of electricity, a great administrator, a wise
counselor on questions pertaining to the German educational
system. Neither of these men orates, but both are admirable
speakers, and are sure to be of incalculable value. I name them
simply as types: others were appointed, equally distinguished in
other fields. If, then, the Emperor is blamed for not liking
parliamentary and party government, it is only fair to say that
he has taken the surest way to give it strength and credit.

As to the alleged violations of the German constitution, the
same, in a far higher degree, were charged against Kaiser William
I and Bismarck,--and these charges were true,--but it is also
true that thereby those men saved and built up their country. As
a matter of fact, the intuitive sense as well as the reflective
powers of Germans seem to show them that the real dangers to
their country come from a very different quarter--from men who
promote hatreds of race, class, and religion within the empire,
and historic international hatreds without it.

So, too, various charges have been made against the Emperor as
regards the United States. From time to time there came, during
my stay, statements in sundry American newspapers, some
belligerent, some lacrymose, regarding his attitude toward our
country. It seemed to be taken for granted by many good people
during our Spanish War that the Emperor was personally against
us. It is not unlikely that he may have felt sympathy for that
forlorn, widowed Queen Regent of Spain, making so desperate a
struggle to save the kingdom for her young son; if so, he but
shared a feeling common to a very large part of humanity, for
certainly there have been few more pathetic situations; but that
he really cared anything for the success of Spain is exceedingly
doubtful. The Hohenzollern common sense in him must have been for
years vexed at the folly and fatuity of Spanish policy. He
probably inherits the feeling of his father, who, when visiting
the late Spanish monarch some years before his death, showed a
most kindly personal feeling toward Spain and its ruler, and an
intense interest in various phases of art developed in the
Spanish peninsula; but, in his diary, let fall remarks which show
his feeling toward the whole existing Spanish system. One of
these I recall especially. Passing a noted Spanish town, he
remarks: "Here are ten churches, twenty monasteries, and not a
single school." No Hohenzollern is likely to waste much sympathy
on a nation which brings on its fate by preferring monasticism to
education; and never during the Spanish War did he or his
government, to my knowledge, show the slightest leaning toward
our enemies. Certain it is that when sundry hysterical publicists
and meddlesome statesmen of the Continent proposed measures
against what they thought the dangerous encroachments of our
Republic, he quietly, but resolutely and effectually, put his
foot upon them.

Another complaint sometimes heard in America really amounts to
this: that the Emperor is pushing German interests in all parts
of the world, and is not giving himself much trouble about the
interests of other countries. There is truth in this, but the
complainants evidently never stop to consider that every thinking
man in every nation would despise him were it otherwise.

Yet another grievance, a little time since, was that, apparently
with his approval, his ships of war handled sundry Venezuelans
with decided roughness. This was true enough and ought to warm
every honest man's heart.

The main facts in the case were these: a petty equatorial
"republic," after a long series of revolutions,--one hundred and
four in seventy years, Lord Lansdowne tells us,--was enjoying
peace and the beginnings of prosperity. Thanks to the United
States, it had received from an international tribunal the
territory to which it was entitled, was free from disturbance at
home or annoyance abroad, and was under a regular government
sanctioned by its people. Suddenly, an individual started another
so-called "revolution." He was the champion of no reform,
principle, or idea; he simply represented the greed of himself
and a pack of confederates whose ideal was that of a gang of
burglars. With their aid he killed, plundered, or terrorized
until he got control of the government--or, rather, became
himself the government. Under the name of a "republic" he erected
a despotism and usurped powers such as no Russian autocrat would
dare claim. Like the men of his sort who so often afflict
republics in the equatorial regions of South America, he had no
hesitation in confiscating the property and taking the lives, not
only of such of his fellow-citizens as he thought dangerous to
himself, but also of those whom he thought likely to become so.
He made the public treasury his own, and doubtless prepared the
way, as so many other patriots of his sort in such "republics"
have done, for retirement into a palace at Paris, with ample
funds for enjoying the pleasures of that capital, after he, like
so many others, shall have been, in turn, kicked out of his
country by some new bandit stronger than he.

So far so good. If the citizens of Venezuela like or permit that
sort of thing, outside nations have no call to interfere; but
this petty despot, having robbed, maltreated, and even murdered
citizens of his own country, proceeded to maltreat and rob
citizens of other countries and, among them, those of the German
Empire. He was at first asked in diplomatic fashion to desist and
to make amends, but for such appeals he simply showed contempt.
His purpose was evidently to plunder all German subjects within
his reach, and to cheat all German creditors beyond his reach. At
this the German Government, as every government in similar
circumstances is bound to do, demanded redress and sent ships to
enforce the demand. This was perfectly legitimate; but
immediately there arose in the United States an outcry against a
"violation of the Monroe Doctrine." As a matter of fact, the
Monroe Doctrine was no more concerned in the matter than was the
doctrine of the Perseverance of the Saints; but there was enough
to start an outcry against Germany, and so it began to spread.
The Germans were careful to observe the best precedents in
international law, yet every step they took was exhibited in
sundry American papers as a menace to the United States. There
was no more menace to the United States than to the planet
Saturn. The conduct of the German Government was in the interest
of the United States as well as of every other decent government.
Finally, the soldiers in a Venezuelan fort wantonly fired upon a
German war vessel--whereupon the commander of the ship, acting
entirely in accordance, not only with international law, but with
natural right, defended himself, and knocked the fort about the
ears of those who occupied it, thus giving the creatures who
directed them a lesson which ought to rejoice every thinking
American. At this the storm on paper against Germany, both in
America and Great Britain, broke out with renewed violence, and
there was more talk about dangers to the Monroe Doctrine. As one
who, at The Hague Conference, was able to do something for
recognition of the Monroe Doctrine by European powers, and who,
as a member of the Venezuelan Commission, did what was possible
to secure justice to Venezuela, I take this opportunity to
express the opinion that the time has come for plain speaking in
this matter. Even with those of us who believe in the Monroe
Doctrine there begins to arise a question as to which are nearest
the interests and the hearts of Americans,--the sort of "dumb
driven cattle" who allow themselves to be governed by such men as
now control Venezuela, or the people of Germany and other
civilized parts of Europe, as well as those of the better South
American republics, like Chile, the Argentine Republic, Brazil,
and others, whose interests, aspirations, ideals, and feelings
are so much more closely akin to our own.

Occasionally, too, there have arisen plaintive declarations that
the Emperor does not love the United States or admire its
institutions. As to that I never saw or heard of anything showing
dislike to our country; but, after all, he is a free man, and
there is nothing in international law or international comity
requiring him to love the United States; it is sufficient that he
respects what is respectable in our government and people, and we
may fairly allow to him his opinion on sundry noxious and
nauseous developments among us which we hope may prove temporary.
As to admiring our institutions, he is probably not fascinated by
our lax administration of criminal justice, which leaves at large
more unpunished criminals, and especially murderers, than are to
be found in any other part of the civilized world, save,
possibly, some districts of lower Italy and Sicily. He probably
does not admire Tammany Hall or the Philadelphia Ring, and has
his own opinion of cities which submit to such tyranny; quite
likely he has not been favorably impressed by the reckless waste
and sordid jobbery recently revealed at St. Louis and
Minneapolis; it is exceedingly doubtful whether he admires some
of the speeches on national affairs made for the "Buncombe
district" and the galleries; but that he admires and respects the
men in the United States who do things worth doing, and say
things worth saying; that he takes a deep interest in those
features of our policy, or achievements of our people, which are
to our credit; that he enjoys the best of our literature; that he
respects every true American soldier and sailor, every American
statesman or scholar or writer or worker of any sort who really
accomplishes anything for our country, is certain.

To sum up his position in contemporary history: As the German
nation is the result of an evolution of individual and national
character in obedience to resistless inner forces and to its
environment, so out of the medley of imperial and royal
Hohenstaufens, Hapsburgs, Wittelsbachs, Wettins, Guelphs, and the
like, have arisen, as by a survival of the fittest, the
Hohenzollerns. These have given to the world various strong
types, and especially such as the Great Elector, Frederick II,
and William I. Mainly under them and under men trained or
selected by them, Germany, from a great confused mass of warriors
and thinkers and workers, militant at cross-purposes, wearing
themselves out in vain struggles, and preyed upon by malevolent
neighbors, has become a great power in arms, in art, in science,
in literature; a fortress of high thought; a guardian of
civilization; the natural ally of every nation which seeks the
better development of humanity. And the young monarch who is now
at its head--original, yet studious of the great men and deeds of
the past; brave, yet conciliatory; never allowing the mail-clad
fist to become unnerved, but none the less devoted to the
conquests of peace; standing firmly on realities, but with a
steady vision of ideals--seems likely to add a new name to the
list of those who, as leaders of Germany, have advanced the
world.



CHAPTER XLV

AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE CONFERENCE
OF THE HAGUE: I--1899

On the 24th of August, 1898, the Russian Government proposed, in
the name of the Emperor Nicholas II, a conference which should
seek to arrest the constantly increasing development of armaments
and thus contribute to a durable peace; and on the 11th of
January, 1899, his minister of foreign affairs, Count Mouravieff,
having received favorable answers to this proposal, sent forth a
circular indicating the Russian view as to subjects of
discussion. As to the place of meeting, there were obvious
reasons why it should not be the capital of one of the greater
powers. As to Switzerland, the number of anarchists and nihilists
who had taken refuge there, and the murder of the Empress of
Austria by one of them shortly before, at Geneva, in broad
daylight, had thrown discredit over the ability of the Swiss
Government to guarantee safety to the conference; the Russian
Government therefore proposed that its sessions be held at The
Hague, and this being agreed to, the opening was fixed for the
18th of May.

From the first there was a misunderstanding throughout the world
as to what the Emperor Nicholas really proposed. Far and near it
was taken for granted that he desired a general disarmament, and
this legend spread rapidly. As a matter of fact, this was neither
his proposal nor his purpose; the measures he suggested being
designed "to put an end to the constantly increasing development
of armaments."

At the outset I was skeptical as to the whole matter. What I had
seen of the Emperor Nicholas during my stay in Russia had not
encouraged me to expect that he would have the breadth of view or
the strength of purpose to carry out the vast reforms which
thinking men hoped for. I recalled our conversation at my
reception as minister, when, to my amazement, he showed himself
entirely ignorant of the starving condition of the peasantry
throughout large districts in the very heart of the empire.[8]
That he was a kindly man, wishing in a languid way the good of
his country, could not be doubted; but the indifference to
everything about him evident in all his actions, his lack of
force even in the simplest efforts for the improvement of his
people, and, above all, his yielding to the worst elements in his
treatment of the Baltic provinces and Finland, did not encourage
me to believe that he would lead a movement against the enormous
power of the military party in his vast empire. On this account,
when the American newspapers prophesied that I was to be one of
the delegates, my feelings were strongly against accepting any
such post. But in due time the tender of it came in a way very
different from anything I had anticipated: President McKinley
cabled a personal request that I accept a position on the
delegation, and private letters from very dear friends, in whose
good judgment I had confidence, gave excellent reasons for my
doing so. At the same time came the names of my colleagues, and
this led me to feel that the delegation was to be placed on a
higher plane than I had expected. In the order named by the
President, they were as follows: Andrew D. White; Seth Low,
President of Columbia University; Stanford Newel, Minister at The
Hague; Captain Mahan, of the United States navy; Captain Crozier,
of the army; and the Hon. Frederick W. Holls as secretary. In
view of all this, I accepted.


[8] See account of this conversation in "My Mission to Russia,"
Chapter XXXIII, pp. 9-10.


Soon came evidences of an interest in the conference more earnest
and wide-spread than anything I had dreamed. Books, documents,
letters, wise and unwise, thoughtful and crankish, shrewd and
childish, poured in upon me; in all classes of society there
seemed fermenting a mixture of hope and doubt; even the German
Emperor apparently felt it, for shortly there came an invitation
to the palace, and on my arrival I found that the subject
uppermost in his mind was the approaching conference. Of our
conversation, as well as of some other interviews at this period,
I speak elsewhere.

On the 16th of May I left Berlin, and arrived late in the evening
at The Hague. As every day's doings were entered in my diary, it
seems best to give an account of this part of my life in the
shape of extracts from it.


May 17, 1899.

This morning, on going out of our hotel, the Oude Doelen, I found
that since my former visit, thirty-five years ago, there had been
little apparent change. It is the same old town, quiet,
picturesque, full of historical monuments and art treasures. This
hotel and the neighboring streets had been decorated with the
flags of various nations, including our own, and crowds were
assembled under our windows and in the public places. The hotel
is in one of the most attractive parts of the city
architecturally and historically, and is itself interesting from
both points of view. It has been a hostelry ever since the middle
ages, and over the main entrance a tablet indicates rebuilding in
1625. Connected with it by interior passages are a number of
buildings which were once private residences, and one of the
largest and best of these has been engaged for us. Fortunately
the present Secretary of State, John Hay, has been in the
diplomatic service; and when I wrote him, some weeks ago, on the
importance of proper quarters being secured for us, he entered
heartily into the matter, giving full powers to the minister here
to do whatever was necessary, subject to my approval. The result
is that we are quite as well provided for as any other delegation
at the conference.

In the afternoon our delegation met at the house of the American
minister and was duly organized. Although named by the President
first in the list of delegates, I preferred to leave the matter
of the chairmanship entirely to my associates, and they now
unanimously elected me as their President.

The instructions from the State Department were then read. These
were, in effect, as follows:

The first article of the Russian proposals, relating to the
non-augmentation of land and sea forces, is so inapplicable to
the United States at present that it is deemed advisable to leave
the initiative, upon this subject, to the representatives of
those powers to which it may properly apply.

As regards the articles relating to the non-employment of new
firearms, explosives, and other destructive agencies, the
restricted use of the existing instruments of destruction, and
the prohibition of certain contrivances employed in naval
warfare, it seems to the department that they are lacking in
practicability and that the discussion of these articles would
probably provoke divergency rather than unanimity of view. The
secretary goes on to say that "it is doubtful if wars will be
diminished by rendering them less destructive, for it is the
plain lesson of history that the periods of peace have been
longer protracted as the cost and destructiveness of war have
increased. The expediency of restraining the inventive genius of
our people in the direction of devising means of defense is by no
means clear, and, considering the temptations to which men and
nations may be exposed in a time of conflict, it is doubtful if
an international agreement of this nature would prove effective."

As to the fifth, sixth, and seventh articles, aiming, in the
interest of humanity, to succor those who by the chance of battle
have been rendered helpless, to alleviate their sufferings, and
to insure the safety of those whose mission is purely one of
peace and beneficence, we are instructed that any practicable
proposals should receive our earnest support.

On the eighth article, which proposes the wider extension of
"good offices, mediation, and arbitration," the secretary dwells
with much force, and finally says: "The proposal of the
conference promises to offer an opportunity thus far unequaled in
the history of the world for initiating a series of negotiations
that may lead to important practical results." The delegation is
therefore enjoined to propose, at an opportune moment, a plan for
an International Tribunal of Arbitration which is annexed to the
instructions, and to use their influence in the conference to
procure the adoption of its substance.

And, finally, we are instructed to propose to the conference the
principle of extending to strictly private property at sea the
immunity from destruction or capture by belligerent powers
analogous to that which such property already enjoys on land, and
to endeavor to have this principle incorporated in the permanent
law of civilized nations. A well-drawn historical resume of the
relations of the United States to the question of arbitration
thus far is added, and a historical summary of the action of the
United States, hitherto, regarding the exemption of private
property at sea from seizure during war.

The document of most immediate importance is the plan furnished
us for international arbitration. Its main features are as
follows:

First, a tribunal "composed of judges chosen, on account of their
personal integrity and learning in international law, by a
majority of the members of the highest court now existing in each
of the adhering states, one from each sovereign state
participating in the treaty, who shall hold office until their
successors are appointed by the same body."

Secondly, the tribunal to meet for organization not later than
six months after the treaty shall have been ratified by nine
powers; to organize itself as a permanent court, with such
officers as may be found necessary, and to fix its own place of
session and rules of procedure.

The third article provides that "the contracting nations will
mutually agree to submit to the international tribunal all
questions of disagreement between them, excepting such as may
relate to or involve their political independence or territorial
integrity."

The fifth article runs as follows: "A bench of judges for each
particular case shall consist of not fewer than three nor more
than seven, as may be deemed expedient, appointed by the
unanimous consent of the tribunal, and shall not include any
member who is either a native, subject, or citizen of the state
whose interests are in litigation in the case."

The sixth article provides that the general expenses of the
tribunal be divided equally among the adherent powers; but that
those arising from each particular case be provided for as may be
directed by the tribunal; also that non-adherent states may bring
their cases before it, on condition of the mutual agreement that
the state against which judgment shall be found shall pay, in
addition to the judgment, the expenses of the adjudication.

The seventh article makes provision for an appeal, within three
months after the notification of the decision, upon presentation
of evidence that the judgment contains a substantial error of
fact or law.

The eighth and final article provides that the treaty shall
become operative when nine sovereign states, whereof at least six
shall have taken part in the conference of The Hague, shall have
ratified its provisions.

It turns out that ours is the only delegation which has anything
like a full and carefully adjusted plan for a court of
arbitration. The English delegation, though evidently exceedingly
desirous that a system of arbitration be adopted, has come
without anything definitely drawn. The Russians have a scheme;
but, so far as can be learned, there is no provision in it for a
permanent court.

In the evening there was a general assemblage of the members of
the conference at a reception given by Jonkheer van Karnebeek,
formerly Dutch minister of foreign affairs, and now first
delegate from the Netherlands to the conference. It was very
brilliant, and I made many interesting acquaintances; but,
probably, since the world began, never has so large a body come
together in a spirit of more hopeless skepticism as to any good
result. Though no one gives loud utterance to this feeling, it is
none the less deep. Of course, among all these delegates
acquainted with public men and measures in Europe, there is
considerable distrust of the intentions of Russia; and,
naturally, the weakness of the Russian Emperor is well
understood, though all are reticent regarding it. The only open
utterances are those attributed to one or two of the older
European diplomatists, who lament being sent on an errand which
they fear is to be fruitless. One of these is said to have
bewailed this mission as a sad ending to his public services, and
to have declared that as he had led a long life of devotion to
his country and to its sovereign, his family might well look upon
his career as honorable; but that now he is probably doomed to
crown it with an open failure.

May 18.

At two o'clock in the afternoon the conference held its open
session at the "House in the Wood." The building is most
interesting, presenting as it does the art and general ideas of
two hundred and fifty years ago; it is full of historical
associations, and the groves and gardens about it are delightful.
The walls and dome of the great central hall are covered with
immense paintings in the style of Rubens, mainly by his pupils;
and, of these, one over the front entrance represents Peace
descending from heaven, bearing various symbols and, apparently,
entering the hall. To this M. de Beaufort, our honorary
president, the Netherlands minister of foreign affairs, made a
graceful allusion in his opening speech, expressing the hope that
Peace, having entered the hall, would go forth bearing blessings
to the world. Another representation, which covers one immense
wall, is a glorification of various princes of Orange: it is in
full front of me, as I sit, the Peace fresco being visible at my
left, and a lovely view of the gardens, and of the water beyond,
through the windows at my right.

The "House in the Wood" was built early in the seventeenth
century by a princess of the house of Orange, the grandmother of
William III of England. The central hall under the dome, above
referred to, is now filled up with seats and desks, covered with
green cloth, very neat and practical, and mainly arranged like
those in an English college chapel. Good fortune has given me one
of the two best seats in the house; it being directly in front of
the secretaries, who are arranged in a semicircle just below the
desk of the president; at my left are the other members of our
delegation, and facing me, across the central aisle, is Count
Munster, at the head of the German delegation. This piece of good
luck comes from the fact that we are seated in the alphabetical
order of our countries, beginning with Allemagne, continuing with
Amerique, and so on down the alphabet.

The other large rooms on the main floor are exceedingly handsome,
with superb Japanese and Chinese hangings, wrought about the
middle of the last century to fit the spaces they occupy; on all
sides are the most perfect specimens of Japanese and Chinese
bronzes, ivory carvings, lacquer-work, and the like: these rooms
are given up to the committees into which the whole body is
divided. Up-stairs is a dining-hall in which the Dutch Government
serves, every working-day, a most bounteous lunch to us all, and
at this there is much opportunity for informal discussion. Near
the main hall is a sumptuous saloon, hung round with interesting
portraits, one of them being an admirable likeness of Motley the
historian, who was a great favorite of the late Queen, and
frequently her guest in this palace.

Our first session was very interesting; the speech by the
honorary president, M. de Beaufort, above referred to, was in
every way admirable, and that by the president, M. de Staal,
thoroughly good. The latter is the Russian ambassador to London;
I had already met him in St. Petersburg, and found him
interesting and agreeable. He is, no doubt, one of the foremost
diplomatists of this epoch; but he is evidently without much
knowledge of parliamentary procedure. Congratulatory telegrams
were received from the Emperor of Russia and the Queen of the
Netherlands and duly answered.


May 19.

At eleven in the morning, in one of the large rooms of the hotel,
the presidents of delegations met to decide on a plan of
organization and work; and, sitting among them, I first began to
have some hopes of a good result. Still, at the outset, the
prospect was much beclouded. Though a very considerable number of
the foremost statesmen in Europe were present, our deliberations
appeared, for a time, a hopeless chaos: the unfamiliarity of our
president, Baron de Staal, with parliamentary usages seemed
likely to become embarrassing; but sundry statesmen, more
experienced in such matters, began drawing together, and were
soon elaborating a scheme to be presented to the entire
conference. It divided all the subjects named in the Mouravieff
circular among three great committees, the most important being
that on "Arbitration." The choice of representatives on these
from our delegation was made, and an ex-officio membership of all
three falls to me.

In the course of the day I met and talked with various
interesting men, among them Count Nigra, formerly Cavour's
private secretary and ambassador at the court of Napoleon III,
where he accomplished so much for Italian unity; Sir Julian
Pauncefote, the British ambassador at Washington; and M.
Bernaert, president of the Belgian Chamber. In the evening, at a
reception given by the minister of foreign affairs, M. de
Beaufort, I made further acquaintances and had instructive
conversations.

In addition to the strict duties of the conference, there is, of
course, a mass of social business, with no end of visits, calls,
and special meetings, to say nothing of social functions, on a
large scale, at the houses of sundry ministers and officials; but
these, of course, have their practical uses.

The Dutch Government is showing itself princely in various ways,
making every provision for our comfort and enjoyment.

In general, I am considerably encouraged. The skeptical feeling
with which we came together seems now passing away; the recent
speech of the Emperor William at Wiesbaden has aroused new hopes
of a fairly good chance for arbitration, and it looks as if the
promise made me just before I left Berlin by Baron von Bulow,
that the German delegation should cooperate thoroughly with our
own, is to be redeemed. That delegation assures us that it is
instructed to stand by us as far as possible on all the principal
questions. It forms a really fine body, its head being Count
Munster, whom I have already found very agreeable at Berlin and
Paris, and its main authority in the law of nations being
Professor Zorn, of the University of Konigsberg; but, curiously
enough, as if by a whim, the next man on its list is Professor
Baron von Stengel of Munich, who has written a book AGAINST
arbitration; and next to him comes Colonel Schwartzhoff, said to
be a man of remarkable ability in military matters, but strongly
prejudiced against the Russian proposals.

As to arbitration, we cannot make it compulsory, as so many very
good people wish; it is clear that no power here would agree to
that; but even to provide regular machinery for arbitration,
constantly in the sight of all nations, and always ready for use,
would be a great gain.

As to disarmament, it is clear that nothing effective can be done
at present. The Geneva rules for the better care of the wounded
on land will certainly be improved and extended to warfare on
sea, and the laws of war will doubtless be improved and given
stronger sanction.

Whether we can get our proposals as to private property on the
high seas before the conference is uncertain; but I think we can.
Our hopes are based upon the fact that they seem admissible under
one heading of the Mouravieff circular. There is, of course, a
determination on the part of leading members to exclude
rigorously everything not provided for in the original programme,
and this is only right; for, otherwise, we might spend years in
fruitless discussion. The Armenians, for example, are pressing us
to make a strong declaration in their behalf. Poland is also here
with proposals even more inflammatory; so are the Finlanders; and
so are the South African Boers. Their proposals, if admitted,
would simply be bombshells sure to blow all the leading nations
of Europe out of the conference and bring everything to naught.
Already pessimists outside are prophesying that on account of
these questions we are doomed to utter failure.

The peace people of all nations, including our own, are here in
great force. I have accepted an invitation from one of them to
lunch with a party of like mind, including Baroness von Suttner,
who has written a brilliant book, "Die Waffen Nieder," of which
the moral is that all nations shall immediately throw down their
arms. Mr. Stead is also here, vigorous as usual, full of curious
information, and abounding in suggestions.

There was a report, on our arriving, that the Triple Alliance
representatives are instructed to do everything to bring the
conference into discredit, but this is now denied. It is said
that their programme is changed, and things look like it. On the
whole, though no one is sanguine, there is more hope.


May 21.

In the morning went with Dr. Holls to a Whitsunday service at the
great old church here. There was a crowd, impressive chorals, and
a sermon at least an hour long. At our request, we were given
admirable places in the organ-loft, and sat at the side of the
organist as he managed that noble instrument. It was sublime.
After the closing voluntary Holls played remarkably well.

To me the most striking feature in the service was a very earnest
prayer made by the clergyman for the conference. During the
afternoon we also visited the old prison near the Vijver, where
the De Witts and other eminent prisoners of state were confined,
and in front of which the former were torn in pieces by the mob.
Sadly interesting was a collection of instruments of torture,
which had the effect of making me better satisfied with our own
times than I sometimes am.

In the evening, with our minister, Mr. Newel, and the Dean of
Ely, his guest, to an exceedingly pleasant "tea" at the house of
Baroness Gravensteen, and met a number of interesting people,
among them a kindly old gentleman who began diplomatic life as a
British attache at Washington in the days of Webster and Clay,
and gave me interesting accounts of them.

The queer letters and crankish proposals which come in every day
are amazing. I have just added to my collection of diplomatic
curiosities a letter from the editor of a Democratic paper in
southern Illinois, addressed to me as ambassador at Mayence,
which he evidently takes to be the capital of Germany, asking me
to look after a great party of Western newspaper men who are to
go up the Rhine this summer and make a brief stay in the
above-named capital of the empire. I also receive very many
letters of introduction, which of course make large demands upon
my time. The number of epistles, also, which come in from public
meetings in large and small American towns is very great, some
evidently representing no persons other than the writers. As I
write the above, I open mechanically a letter from a peace
meeting assembled in Ledyard, Connecticut, composed of "Rogerine
Quakers"; but what a "Rogerine Quaker" is I know not. Some of
these letters are touching, and some have a comic side. A very
good one comes from May Wright Sewall; would that all the others
were as thoughtful!

It goes without saying that the Quakers are out in full force. We
have been answering by cable some of the most important
communications sent us from America; the others we shall try to
acknowledge by mail, though they are so numerous that I begin to
despair of this. If these good people only knew how all this
distracts us from the work which we have at heart as much as
they, we should get considerably more time to think upon the
problems before us.


May 22.

In the afternoon came M. de Bloch, the great publicist, who has
written four enormous volumes on war in modern times, summaries
of which, in the newspapers, are said to have converted the young
Emperor Nicholas to peace ideas, and to have been the real cause
of his calling the conference together. I found him interesting,
full of ideas, and devoted most earnestly to a theory that
militarism is gradually impoverishing all modern states, and that
the next European war will pauperize most of them.

Just afterward Count Welsersheimb, president of the Austrian
delegation, called, and was very anxious to know the line we are
to take. I told him frankly that we are instructed to present a
plan of arbitration, and to urge a resolution in favor of
exempting private property, not contraband of war, from seizure
on the high seas; that we are ready to go to the full length in
improving the laws of war, and in extending the Geneva rules to
maritime warfare; but that we look on the question of reducing
armaments as relating wholly to Europe, no part of it being
applicable to the United States.

As he seemed strongly in favor of our contention regarding
private property on the high seas, but fearful that Russia and
England, under a strict construction of the rules, would not
permit the subject to be introduced, I pointed out to him certain
clauses in the Mouravieff circular which showed that it was
entirely admissible.


May 23.

In the morning came a meeting of the American delegation on the
subject of telegraphing Washington for further instructions. We
find that some of the details in our present instructions are
likely to wreck our proposals, and there is a fear among us that,
by following too closely the plan laid down for us at Washington,
we may run full in the face of the Monroe Doctrine. It is indeed,
a question whether our people will be willing to have matters of
difference between South American States, or between the United
States and a South American State, or between European and South
American States, submitted to an arbitration in which a majority
of the judges are subjects of European powers. Various drafts of
a telegram were made, but the whole matter went over.

At ten the heads of delegations met and considered a plan of
organizing the various committees, and the list was read. Each of
the three great committees to which the subjects mentioned in the
Mouravieff circular are assigned was given a president,
vice-president, and two honorary presidents. The first of these
committees is to take charge of the preliminary discussion of
those articles in the Mouravieff circular concerning the
non-augmentation of armies and the limitation in the use of new
explosives and of especially destructive weapons. The second
committee has for its subject the discussion of humanitarian
reforms--namely, the adaptation of the stipulations of the
Convention of Geneva of 1864 to maritime warfare, the
neutralization of vessels charged with saving the wounded during
maritime combats, and the revision of the declaration concerning
customs of war elaborated in 1874 by the Conference of Brussels,
which has never yet been ratified. The third committee has charge
of the subject of arbitration, mediation, and the like.

The president of the first committee is M. Bernaert, a leading
statesman of Belgium, who has made a most excellent impression on
me from the first; and the two honorary presidents are Count
Munster, German ambassador at Paris, and myself.

The president of the second committee is M. de Martens, the
eminent Russian authority on international law; and the two
honorary presidents, Count Welsersheimb of Austria-Hungary, and
the Duke of Tetuan from Spain.

The third committee receives as its president M. Leon Bourgeois,
who has held various eminent positions in France; the honorary
presidents being Count Nigra, the Italian ambassador at Vienna,
and Sir Julian Pauncefote, the British ambassador at Washington.

There was much discussion and considerable difference of opinion
on many points, but the main breeze sprang up regarding the
publicity of our doings. An admirable speech was made by Baron de
Bildt, who is a son of my former Swedish colleague at Berlin, has
held various important positions at Washington and elsewhere, has
written an admirable history of Queen Christina of Sweden, and is
now minister plenipotentiary at Rome. He spoke earnestly in favor
of considerable latitude in communications to the press from the
authorities of the conference; but the prevailing opinion,
especially of the older men, even of those from constitutional
states, seemed to second the idea of Russia,--that communications
to the press should be reduced to a minimum, comprising merely
the external affairs of the conference. I am persuaded that this
view will get us into trouble; but it cannot be helped at
present.


May 24.

As was to be expected, there has begun some reaction from the
hopes indulged shortly after the conference came together. At our
arrival there was general skepticism; shortly afterward, and
especially when the organization of the arbitration committee was
seen to be so good, there came a great growth of hope; now comes
the usual falling back of many. But I trust that this will not be
permanent. Yesterday there was some talk which, though quiet, was
none the less bitter, to the effect that the purpose of Russia in
calling the conference is only to secure time for strengthening
her armaments; that she was never increasing her forces at a
greater rate, especially in the southwestern part of the empire
and in the Caucasus, and never intriguing more vigorously in all
directions. To one who stated this to me my answer simply was
that bad faith to this extent on the part of Russia is most
unlikely, if not impossible; that it would hand down the Emperor
and his advisers to the eternal execration and contempt of
mankind; and that, in any case, our duty is clear: to go on and
do the best we can; to perfect plans for a permanent tribunal of
arbitration; and to take measures for diminishing cruelty and
suffering in war.

Meeting Count Munster, who, after M. de Staal, is very generally
considered the most important personage here, we discussed the
subject of arbitration. To my great regret, I found him entirely
opposed to it, or, at least, entirely opposed to any
well-developed plan. He did not say that he would oppose a
moderate plan for voluntary arbitration, but he insisted that
arbitration must be injurious to Germany; that Germany is
prepared for war as no other country is or can be; that she can
mobilize her army in ten days; and that neither France, Russia,
nor any other power can do this. Arbitration, he said, would
simply give rival powers time to put themselves in readiness, and
would therefore be a great disadvantage to Germany.

Later came another disappointment. M. de Martens, having read the
memorandum which I left with him yesterday on the subject of
exempting private property, not contraband of war, from seizure
upon the high seas called, and insisted that it would be
impossible, under any just construction of the Mouravieff
programme, to bring the subject before the second committee as we
had hoped to do; that Russia would feel obliged to oppose its
introduction; and that Great Britain, France, and Italy, to say
nothing of other powers, would do the same. This was rather
trying, for I had especially desired to press this long-desired
improvement in international law; and I showed him how persistent
the United States had been as regards this subject throughout our
whole history, how earnest the President and his cabinet are in
pressing it now, and how our delegation are bound, under our
instructions, to bring it before the conference. I insisted that
we should at least have the opportunity to present it, even if it
were afterward declared out of order. To this he demurred, saying
that he feared it would arouse unpleasant debate. I then
suggested that the paper be publicly submitted to our whole body
for special reference to a future conference, and this he took
into consideration. Under other circumstances, I would have made
a struggle in the committee and, indeed, in the open session of
the full conference; but it is clear that what we are sent here
for is, above all, to devise some scheme of arbitration, and that
anything which comes in the way of this, by provoking ill-feeling
or prolonging discussion on other points, will diminish our
chances of obtaining what the whole world so earnestly desires.

During the day our American delegation held two sessions; and, as
a result, a telegram of considerable length to the State
Department was elaborated, asking permission to substitute a new
section in our original instructions regarding an arbitration
tribunal, and to be allowed liberty to make changes in minor
points, as the development of opinion in the conference may
demand. The substitute which we suggested referred especially to
the clash between the original instructions and the Monroe
Doctrine. I was very reluctant to send the despatch; but, on the
whole, it seemed best, and it was adopted unanimously.

In the afternoon, at five, the presidents of all the delegations
went to the palace, by appointment, and were presented to the
young Queen and to the Queen-mother. The former is exceedingly
modest, pretty, and pleasant; and as she came into the room,
about which were ranged that line of solemn, elderly men, it
seemed almost pathetic. She was evidently timid, and it was, at
first, hard work for her; but she got along well with Count
Munster, and when she came to me I soon brought the conversation
upon the subject of the "House in the Wood" by thanking her for
the pains her government had taken in providing so beautiful a
place for us. This new topic seemed to please her, and we had
quite a long talk upon it; she speaking of her visits to the
park, for skating and the like, and I dwelling on the beauty of
the works of art and the views in the park. Then the delegates,
going to the apartments of the Queen-mother, went through a
similar formality with her. She is very stout, but fine-looking,
with a kindly face and manner. Both mother and daughter spoke,
with perfect ease, Dutch, French, German English, and how many
other languages I know not. The young Queen was very simply
dressed, like any other young lady of seventeen, except that she
had a triple row of large pearls about her neck. In the evening,
at 9.30, the entire delegations were received at a great
presentation and ball. The music was very fine, but the most
interesting thing to me was the fact that, as the palace was
built under Louis Bonaparte and Hortense, the main rooms were in
the most thoroughgoing style Empire, not only in their
decorations, but in their furniture and accessories,--clocks,
vases, candelabra, and the like. I have never seen that style,
formerly so despised, but now so fashionable, developed as fully.

After the presentation I met Sir John Fisher, one of the English
delegates, an admiral in the British navy, and found him very
intelligent. He said that he was thoroughly for peace, and had
every reason to be so, since he knew something of the horrors of
war. It appears that in one of the recent struggles in China he
went ashore with eleven hundred men and returned with only about
five hundred; but, to my regret, I found him using the same
argument as regards the sea that Count Munster had made regarding
the land. He said that the navy of Great Britain was and would
remain in a state of complete preparation for war; that a vast
deal depended on prompt action by the navy; and that the truce
afforded by arbitration proceedings would give other powers time,
which they would otherwise not have, to put themselves into
complete readiness. He seemed uncertain whether it was best for
Great Britain, under these circumstances, to support a
thoroughgoing plan of arbitration; but, on the whole, seemed
inclined to try it to some extent. Clearly what Great Britain
wants is a permanent system of arbitration with the United
States; but she does not care much, I think, for such a provision
as regards other powers.

There is considerable curiosity among leading members to know
what the United States really intends to do; and during the day
Sir Julian Pauncefote and others have called to talk over the
general subject.

The London "Times" gives quite correctly a conversation of mine,
of rather an optimistic nature, as to the possibilities and
probabilities of arbitration, and the improvement of the customs
of war; but in another quarter matters have not gone so well: the
"Corriere della Sera" of Milan publishes a circumstantial
interview with me, which has been copied extensively in the
European press, to the effect that I have declared my belief in
the adoption of compulsory arbitration and disarmament. This is a
grotesque misstatement. I have never dreamed of saying anything
of the kind; in fact, have constantly said the contrary; and,
what is more, I have never been interviewed by the correspondent
of that or of any other Continental paper.



CHAPTER XLVI

AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE CONFERENCE
OF THE HAGUE--II

May 25. This morning a leading delegate of one of the great
European powers called and gave me a very interesting account of
the situation as he sees it.

He stated that the Russian representatives, on arriving here,
gave out that they were not prepared with any plan for a definite
tribunal of arbitration; but that shortly afterward there
appeared some discrepancy on this point between the statements of
the various members of their delegation; and that they now
propose a system of arbitration, mediation, and examination into
any cause of difficulty between nations.

In the evening our secretary spoke of the matter to M. de Staal,
the president of the Russian delegation and of the conference,
and was told that this plan would, within a day or two, be
printed and laid before the whole body.

This is a favorable sign. More and more it looks as if the great
majority of us are beginning to see the necessity of some scheme
of arbitration embracing a court and definite, well-contrived
accessories.

The above-mentioned discrepancy between various statements of the
Russians leads me to think that what Count Munster told me some
days since may have some truth in it--namely, that
Pobedonostzeff, whom I knew well, when minister to Russia, as the
strongest man of moral, religious, and social questions in that
country, is really the author of the documents that were
originally given to the world as emanating from the Russian
Foreign Office, and that he has now added to them this definite
scheme for arbitration. Remembering our old conversations, in
which he dwelt upon the great need of money in order to increase
the stipends of the Russian clergy, and so improve their moral as
well as religious condition, I can understand easily that he may
have greatly at heart a plan which would save a portion of the
enormous expenditure of Russia on war, and enable him to do more
for the improvement of the church.

Dined at the British legation with the minister, my old friend of
St. Petersburg days, Sir Henry Howard, De Martens, the real head
of the Russian delegation, being of the party, and had a long
talk with the latter about Russia and Russians. He told me that
Pobedonostzeff is now becoming old and infirm, and it appears
that there has been a sort of cleaning out of the Foreign Office
and the Ministry of the Interior--a procedure which was certainly
needed in my time.

Later in the evening we went to a reception by Baron van
Hardenbroek, the grand chamberlain, where I met various
interesting persons, especially M. Descamps, the eminent Belgian
delegate, who, in the fervor of his speech yesterday morning,
upset his inkstand and lavished its contents on his neighbors. He
is a devotee of arbitration, and is preparing a summary for the
committee intrusted with that subject. There seemed to be, in
discussing the matter with various delegates at this reception, a
general feeling of encouragement.

During the day Mr. Loeher, a Berlin sculptor, called, and carried
me off to see his plan of a great statue of "Peace" which he
hopes to induce the Emperor Nicholas to erect in Paris. It seems
to me well conceived, all except the main figure, which I could
not induce myself to like. In the anxiety of the sculptor to
avoid any more female figures, and to embody virile aspirations
for peace, he has placed this main figure at the summit of the
monument in something like a long pea-jacket, with an
insufficient mantle at the back, and a crown upon its head.

The number of people with plans, schemes, notions, nostrums,
whimsies of all sorts, who press upon us and try to take our
time, is enormous; and when to this is added the pest of
interviewers and photographers, life becomes serious indeed.


May 26.

At two the committee on arbitration met, and, as it is the
largest of all, its session was held in the main hall under the
dome. The Russian plan was presented, and was found to embrace
three distinct features:

First, elements of a plan of mediation; secondly, a plan for
international arbitration; thirdly, a plan for the international
examination of questions arising between powers, such examination
being conducted by persons chosen by each of the contestants.
This last is a new feature and is known as a commission
internationale d'enquete.

The project for a plan of arbitration submits a number of minor
matters to compulsory arbitration, but the main mass of
differences to voluntary arbitration.

But there was no definite proposal for a tribunal, and there was
an evident feeling of disappointment, which was presently voiced
by Sir Julian Pauncefote, who, in the sort of plain, dogged way
of a man who does not purpose to lose what he came for, presented
a resolution looking definitely to the establishment, here and
now, of an international tribunal of arbitration. After some
discussion, the whole was referred to a subcommittee, to put this
and any other proposals submitted into shape for discussion by
the main committee. In the course of the morning the American
delegation received an answer to its telegram to the State
Department, which was all that could be desired, since it left us
virtually free to take the course which circumstances might
authorize, in view of the main object to be attained. But it came
too late to enable us to elaborate a plan for the meeting above
referred to, and I obtained permission from the president, M.
Leon Bourgeois, to defer the presentation of our scheme until
about the middle of next week.

Just before the session of the main committee, at which the
Russian plan was received, I had a long and very interesting talk
with Mr. van Karnebeek, one of the leading statesmen of the
Netherlands, a former minister of foreign affairs, and the
present chief of the Dutch delegation in the conference. He seems
clear-headed and far-sighted, and his belief is that the
conference will really do something of value for arbitration. He
says that men who arrived here apparently indifferent have now
become interested, and that amour propre, if nothing else, will
lead them to elaborate something likely to be useful. He went at
considerable length into the value of an international tribunal,
even if it does nothing more than keep nations mindful of the
fact that there is some way, other than war, of settling
disputes.

A delegate also informed me that in talking with M. de Staal the
latter declared that in his opinion the present conference is
only the first of a series, and that it is quite likely that
another will be held next winter or next spring.

In the evening I made the acquaintance of Mr. Marshall, a
newspaper correspondent, who is here preparing some magazine
articles on The Hague and the conference. He is a very
interesting man on various accounts, and especially at present,
since he has but just returned from the Cuban campaign, where he
was fearfully wounded, receiving two shots which carried away
parts of the vertebral column, a bullet being left in his body.
He seems very cheerful, though obliged to get about on crutches.


May 27.

In the morning, calls from various people urging all kinds of
schemes for arbitration and various other good things for the
human race, including considerable advantages, in many cases, for
themselves.

Best of all, by far, was John Bellows of Gloucester, our old
Quaker friend at St. Petersburg, whom I was exceedingly glad to
take by the hand: he, at least, is a thoroughly good
man--sincere, honest, earnest, and blessed with good sense.

The number of documents, printed and written, coming in upon us
is still enormous. Many are virtually sermons displaying the
evils of war, the blessings of peace, and the necessity of
falling back upon the Bible. Considering the fact that our
earlier sacred books indicate approval by the Almighty of some of
the most bloodthirsty peoples and most cruel wars ever known,
such a recommendation seems lacking in "actuality."

This morning we had another visit from Sir Julian Pauncefote,
president of the British delegation, and discussed with him an
amalgamation of the Russian, British, and American proposals for
an arbitration tribunal. He finds himself, as we all do,
agreeably surprised by the Russian document, which, inadequate as
it is, shows ability in devising a permanent scheme both for
mediation and arbitration.

During the day President Low, who had been asked by our
delegation to bring the various proposals agreed to by us into
definite shape, made his report; it was thoroughly well done,
and, with some slight changes, was adopted as the basis for our
final project of an arbitration scheme. We are all to meet on
Monday, the 29th, for a study of it.

In the evening to the concert given to the conference by the
burgomaster and city council. It was very fine, and the audience
was large and brilliant. There was music by Tschaikovsky, Grieg,
and Wagner, some of which was good, but most of it seemed to me
noisy and tending nowhither; happily, in the midst of it came two
noble pieces, one by Beethoven and the other by Mozart, which
gave a delightful relief.

May 28.

Drove with Dr. Holls to Delft, five miles, and attended service
at the "New Church." The building was noble, but the service
seemed very crude and dismal, nearly the whole of it consisting
of two long sermons separated by hymns, and all unspeakably
dreary.

Afterward we saw the tombs of William of Orange and Grotius, and
they stirred many thoughts. I visited them first nearly forty
years ago, with three persons very dear to me, all of whom are
now passed away. More than ever it is clear to me that of all
books ever written--not claiming divine inspiration--the great
work of Grotius on "War and Peace" has been of most benefit to
mankind. Our work here, at the end of the nineteenth century, is
the direct result of his, at the beginning of the seventeenth.

Afterward to the Prinzenhof, visiting the place where William of
Orange was assassinated. Was glad to see the new statue of
Grotius in front of the church where he lies buried.

May 29.

In the morning President Low and myself walked, and talked over
various proposals for arbitration, especially our own. It looks
much as if we can amalgamate the Russian, British, and original
American plans into a good arrangement for a tribunal. We also
discussed a scheme for the selection, by disagreeing nations, of
"seconding powers," who, before the beginning of hostilities, or
even after, shall attempt to settle difficulties between powers,
or, if unsuccessful, to stop them as soon after war begins as the
honor of the nations concerned may allow. The Germans greatly
favor this plan, since it resembles their tribunal of honor
(Ehrengericht); it was originally suggested to us by our
secretary, Dr. Holls.

In the evening, at six, the American delegation met. We had
before us type-written copies of our whole arbitration project as
elaborated in our previous sessions, and sundry changes having
been made, most of them verbal, the whole, after considerable
discussion, was adopted.

At ten I left, via Hook of Holland and Harwich, for London,
arriving about ten the next morning, and attending to various
matters of business. It was fortunate for me that I could have
for this purpose an almost complete lull in our proceedings, the
first and second committees of the conference being at work on
technical matters, and the third not meeting until next Monday.

In the evening I went to the Lyceum Theatre, saw Henry Irving and
Ellen Terry in Sardou's "Robespierre," and for the first time in
my life was woefully disappointed in them. The play is wretchedly
conceived, and it amazes me that Sardou, who wrote "Thermidor,"
which is as admirable as "Robespierre" is miserable could ever
have attached his name to such a piece.

For the wretchedness of its form there is, no doubt, some excuse
in the fact that it has been done into English, and doubtless
cut, pieced, and altered to suit the Lyceum audiences; but when
one compares the conspiracy part of it with a properly conceived
drama in which a conspiracy is developed, like Schiller's
"Fiesco," the difference is enormously in favor of the latter. As
literature the play in its English dress is below contempt.

As to its historical contents, Sardou resorts to an expedient
which, although quite French in its character, brings the whole
thing down to a lower level than anything in which I had ever
seen Irving before. The center of interest is a young royalist
who, having been present with his mother and sister at the
roll-call of the condemned and the harrowing scenes resulting
therefrom, rushes forth, determined to assassinate Robespierre,
but is discovered by the latter to be his long-lost illegitimate
son, and then occur a series of mystifications suited only to the
lowest boulevard melodrama.

As to the action of the piece, the only thing that showed
Irving's great ability was the scene in the forest of
Montmorency, where, as Robespierre, he reveals at one moment, in
his talk with the English envoy, his ambition, his overestimate
of himself, his suspicion of everybody and everything, his
willingness to be cruel to any extent in order to baffle possible
enemies; and then, next moment, on the arrival of his young
friends, boys and girls, the sentimental, Rousseau side of his
character. This transition was very striking. The changes in the
expression of Irving's face were marvelous--as wonderful as those
in his Louis XI; but that was very nearly all. In everything
else, Coquelin, as I had seen him in Sardou's "Thermidor," was
infinitely better.

Besides this, the piece was, in general, grotesquely
unhistorical. It exhibits Robespierre's colleagues in the
Committee of Public Safety as noisy and dirty street blackguards.
Now, bad as they were, they were not at all of that species, nor
did their deliberations take place in the manner depicted.
Billaud-Varennes is represented as a drunken vagabond sitting on
a table at the committee and declaiming. He was not this at all,
nor was Tallien, vile as he was, anything like the blackguard
shown in this piece.

The final scene, in which Robespierre is brought under accusation
by the Convention, was vastly inferior to the same thing in
"Thermidor"; and, what was worse, instead of paraphrasing or
translating the speeches of Billaud-Varennes, Tallien, and
Robespierre, which he might have found in the "Moniteur," Sardou,
or rather Irving, makes the leading characters yell harangues
very much of the sort which would be made in a meeting of drunken
dock laborers to-day. Irving's part in this was not at all well
done. The unhistorical details now came thick and fast, among
them his putting his head down on the table of the tribune as a
sign of exhaustion, and then, at the close, shooting himself in
front of the tribunal. If he did shoot himself, which is
doubtful, it was neither at that time nor in that place.

But, worst of all, the character of Robespierre was made far too
melodramatic, and was utterly unworthy of Irving, whom, in all
his other pieces, I have vastly admired. He completely
misconceives his hero. Instead of representing him as, from first
to last, a shallow Rousseau sentimentalist, with the proper
mixture of vanity, suspicion, and cruelty, he puts into him a
great deal too much of the ruffian, which was not at all in
Robespierre's character.

The most striking scene in the whole was the roll-call at the
prison. This was perhaps better than that in Sardou's
"Thermidor," and the tableaux were decidedly better.

The scene at the "Festival of the Supreme Being" was also very
striking, and in many respects historical; but, unless I am
greatly mistaken, the performance referred to did not take place
as represented, but in the garden directly in front of the
Tuileries. The family scene at the house of Duplay the carpenter
was exceedingly well managed; old Duplay, smoking his pipe,
listening to his daughters playing on a spinet and singing
sentimental songs of the Rousseau period, was perfect. The old
carpenter and his family evidently felt that the golden age had
at last arrived; that humanity was at the end of its troubles;
and that the world was indebted for it all to their lodger
Robespierre, who sat in the midst of them reading, writing, and
enjoying the coddling and applause lavished upon him. And he and
they were to go to the guillotine within a week!

Incidentally there came a little touch worthy of Sardou; for, as
Robespierre reads his letters, he finds one from his brother, in
which he speaks of a young soldier and revolutionist of ability
whose acquaintance he has just made, whom he very much likes, and
whose republicanism he thoroughly indorses--one Buonaparte. This
might have occurred, and very likely did occur, very much as
shown on the stage; for one of the charges which nearly cost
Bonaparte his life on the Ninth Thermidor was that he was on
friendly terms with the younger Robespierre, who was executed
with his more famous brother.

On the whole, the play was very disappointing. It would certainly
have been hissed at the Porte St. Martin, and probably at any
other Paris theater.

June 1.

Having left London last evening, I arrived at The Hague early
this morning and found, to my great satisfaction, that the
subcommittee of the third committee had unanimously adopted the
American plan of "seconding powers," and that our whole general
plan of arbitration will be to-day in print and translated into
French for presentation. I also find that Sir Julian Pauncefote's
arbitration project has admirable points.

The first article in Sir Julian's proposal states that, with the
desire to facilitate immediate recourse to arbitration by nations
which may fail to adjust by diplomatic negotiations differences
arising between them, the signatory powers agree to organize a
permanent tribunal of international arbitration, accessible at
all times, to be governed by a code, provided by this conference,
so far as applicable and consistent with any special stipulations
agreed to between the contesting parties.

Its second provision is the establishment of a permanent central
office, where the records of the tribunal shall be preserved and
its official business transacted, with a permanent secretary,
archivist, and suitable staff, who shall reside on the spot. This
office shall make arrangements for the assembling of the
tribunal, at the request of contesting parties.

Its third provision is that each of the signatory powers shall
transmit the names of two persons who shall be recognized in
their own country as jurists or publicists of high character and
fitness, and who shall be qualified to act as judges. These
persons shall be members of the tribunal, and a list of their
names shall be recorded in the central office. In case of death
or retirement of any one of these, the vacancy shall be filled up
by new appointment.

Its fourth provision is that any of the signatory powers desiring
to have recourse to the tribunal for the settlement of
differences shall make known such desire to the secretary of the
central office, who shall thereupon furnish the powers concerned
with a list of the members of the tribunal, from which such
powers may select such number of judges as they may think best.
The powers concerned may also, if they think fit, adjoin to these
judges any other person, although his name may not appear on the
list. The persons so selected shall constitute the tribunal for
the purpose of such arbitration, and shall assemble at such date
as may be most convenient for the litigants.

The tribunal shall ordinarily hold its sessions at ----; but it
shall have power to fix its place of session elsewhere, and to
change the same from time to time, as circumstances may suggest.

The fifth provision is that any power, even though not
represented in the present conference, may have recourse to the
tribunal on such terms as may be prescribed by the regulations.

Provision sixth: The government of ---- is charged by the
signatory powers, on their behalf, as soon as possible after the
conclusion of this convention, to name a permanent council of
administration, at ----, composed of five members and a
secretary. This council shall organize and establish the central
office, which shall be under its control and direction. It shall
make such rules and regulations as may be necessary for the
office; it shall dispose of all questions that may arise in
relation to the working of the tribunal, or which may be referred
to it by the central office; it shall make all subordinate
appointments, may suspend or dismiss all employees, and shall fix
their salaries and control their expenditure. This council shall
select its president, who shall have a casting-vote. The
remuneration of the members shall be fixed from time to time by
accord between the signatory powers.

Provision seventh: The signatory powers agree to share among them
the expenses pertaining to the administration of the central
office and the council of administration; but the expenses
incident to every arbitration, including the remuneration of the
arbiters, shall be equally borne by the contesting powers.

From a theoretical point of view, I prefer to this our American
plan of a tribunal permanently in session: the judges, in every
particular case, to be selected from this. Thus would be provided
a court of any odd number between three and nine, as the
contesting powers may desire. But from the practical point of
view, even though the Russian plan of requiring the signatory
powers to send to the tribunal a multitude of smaller matters,
such as those connected with the postal service, etc., is carried
out, the great danger is that such a court, sitting constantly as
we propose, would, for some years, have very little to do, and
that soon we should have demagogues and feather-brained
"reformers" ridiculing them as "useless," "eating their heads
off," and "doing nothing"; that then demagogic appeals might lead
one nation after another to withdraw from an arrangement
involving large expense apparently useless; and in view of this
latter difficulty I am much inclined to think that we may, under
our amended instructions, agree to support, in its essential
features as above given, the British proposal, and, with some
reservations, the code proposed by the Russians.

Among the things named by the Russians as subjects which the
agreeing powers must submit to arbitration, are those relating to
river navigation and international canals; and this, in view of
our present difficulties in Alaska and in the matter of the
Isthmus Canal, we can hardly agree to. During the morning Sir
Julian came in and talked over our plan of arbitration as well as
his own and that submitted by Russia. He said that he had seen M.
de Staal, and that it was agreed between them that the latter
should send Sir Julian, at the first moment possible, an
amalgamation of the Russian and British plans, and this Sir
Julian promised that he would bring to us, giving us a chance to
insert any features from our own plan which, in our judgment,
might be important. He seemed much encouraged, as we all are.

Returning to our rooms, I found Count Munster. As usual, he was
very interesting; and, after discussing sundry features of the
Russian plan, he told one or two rather good stories. He said
that during his stay in St Petersburg as minister, early in the
reign of Alexander II, he had a very serious quarrel with Prince
Gortchakoff the minister of foreign affairs, who afterward became
the famous chancellor of the empire.

Count Munster had received one day from a professor at Gottingen
a letter stating that a young German savant, traveling for
scientific purposes in Russia, had been seized and treated as a
prisoner, without any proper cause whatever; that, while he was
engaged in his peaceful botanizing, a police officer, who was
taking a gang of criminals to Siberia, had come along, and one of
his prisoners having escaped, this officer, in order to avoid
censure, had seized the young savant, quietly clapped the number
of the missing man on his back, put him in with the gang of
prisoners, and carried him off along with the rest; so that he
was now held as a convict in Siberia. The count put the letter in
his pocket, thinking that he might have an opportunity to use it,
and a day or two afterward his chance came. Walking on the quay,
he met the Emperor (Alexander II), who greeted him heartily, and
said, "Let me walk with you." After walking and talking some
time, the count told the story of the young German, whereupon the
Emperor asked for proofs of its truth. At this Munster pulled the
letter out of his pocket; and, both having seated themselves on a
bench at the side of the walk, the Emperor read it. On finishing
it, the Emperor said: "Such a thing as this can happen only in
Russia." That very afternoon he sent a special police squad,
post-haste, all the way to Siberia, ordering them to find the
young German and bring him back to St. Petersburg.

Next day Count Munster called at the Foreign Office on current
business, when Gortchakoff came at him in a great rage, asking
him by what right he communicated directly with the Emperor; and
insisting that he had no business to give a letter directly to
the Emperor, that it ought to have gone through the Foreign
Office. Gortchakoff reproached the count bitterly for this
departure from elementary diplomatic etiquette. At this Munster
replied: "I gave the letter to the Emperor because he asked me
for it, and I did not give it to you because I knew perfectly
well that you would pigeonhole it and the Emperor would never
hear of it. I concede much in making any answer at all to your
talk, which seems to me of a sort not usual between gentlemen."
At this Gortchakoff was much milder, and finally almost
obsequious, becoming apparently one of Munster's devoted friends,
evidently thinking that, as Munster had gained the confidence of
the Emperor, he was a man to be cultivated.

The sequel to the story was also interesting. The policemen,
after their long journey to Siberia, found the young German and
brought him to St. Petersburg, where the Emperor received him
very cordially and gave him twenty thousand rubles as an
indemnity for the wrong done him. The young savant told Munster
that he had not been badly treated, that he had been assigned a
very pleasant little cottage, and had perfect freedom to pursue
his scientific researches.

On my talking with the count about certain Russian abuses, and
maintaining that Russia, at least in court circles, had improved
greatly under Alexander III as regarded corruption, he said that
he feared she was now going back, and he then repeated a remark
made by the old Grand Duke Michael, brother of Alexander II, who
said that if any Russian were intrusted with the official care of
a canary he would immediately set up and maintain a coach and
pair out of it.

At six o'clock our American delegation met and heard reports,
especially from Captain Mahan and Captain Crozier, with reference
to the doings in the subcommittees. Captain Mahan reported that
he had voted against forbidding asphyxiating bombs, etc.,
evidently with the idea that such a provision would prove to be
rather harmful than helpful to the cause of peace.

Captain Crozier reported that his subcommittee of committee No. 2
had, at its recent meeting, tried to take up the exemption of
private property from seizure on the high seas in time of war,
but had been declared out of order by the chairman, De Martens,
the leading Russian delegate, who seems determined to prevent the
subject coming before the conference. The question before our
American delegation now was, Shall we try to push this American
proposal before the subcommittee of the second committee, or
before the entire conference at a later period? and the general
opinion was in favor of the latter course. It was not thought
best to delay the arbitration plan by its introduction at
present.

In the evening dined with Minister Newel, and had a very
interesting talk with Van Karnebeek, who had already favorably
impressed me by his clear-headedness and straightforwardness;
also with Messrs. Asser, member of the Dutch Council of State,
and Rahusen, member of the Upper Chamber of the States General,
both of whom are influential delegates.

All three of these men spoke strongly in favor of our plan for
the exemption of private property on the high seas, Van Karnebeek
with especial earnestness. He said that, looking merely at the
material interests of the Netherlands, he might very well favor
the retention of the present system, since his country is little
likely to go into war, and is certain to profit by the carrying
trade in case of any conflict between the great powers; that, of
course, under such circumstances, a large amount of commerce
would come to Holland as a neutral power; but that it was a
question of right and of a proper development of international
law, and that he, as well as the two other gentlemen above named,
was very earnestly in favor of joint action by the powers who are
in favor of our proposal. He thought that the important thing
just now is to secure the cooperation of Germany, which seems to
be at the parting of the ways, and undecided which to take.

In the course of the evening one of my European colleagues, who
is especially familiar with the inner history of the calling of
the conference, told me that the reason why Professor Stengel was
made a delegate was not that he wrote the book in praise of war
and depreciating arbitration, which caused his appointment to be
so unfavorably commented upon, but because, as an eminent
professor of international law, he represented Bavaria; and that
as Bavaria, though represented at St. Petersburg, was not
invited, it was thought very essential that a well-known man from
that kingdom should be put into the general German delegation.

On my asking why Brazil, though represented at St. Petersburg,
was not invited, he answered that Brazil was invited, but showed
no desire to be represented. On my asking him if he supposed this
was because other South American powers were not invited, he said
that he thought not; that it was rather its own indifference and
carelessness, arising from the present unfortunate state of
government in that country. On my saying that the Emperor Dom
Pedro, in his time, would have taken the opportunity to send a
strong delegation, he said: "Yes, he certainly would have done
so; but the present government is a poor sort of thing."

I also had a talk with one of the most eminent publicists of the
Netherlands, on the questions dividing parties in this country,
telling him that I found it hard to understand the line of
cleavage between them. He answered that it is, in the main, a
line between religious conservatives and liberals; the
conservatives embracing the Roman Catholics and high orthodox
Protestants, and the liberals those of more advanced opinions. He
said that socialism plays no great part in Holland; that the
number of its representatives is very small compared with that in
many European states; that the questions on which parties divide
are mainly those in which clerical ideas are more or less
prominent; that the liberal party, if it keeps together, is much
the stronger party of the two, but that it suffers greatly from
its cliques and factions.

On returning home after dinner, I found a cipher despatch from
the Secretary of State informing us that President McKinley
thinks that our American commission ought not to urge any
proposal for "seconding powers"; that he fears lest it may block
the way of the arbitration proposals. This shows that imperfect
reports have reached the President and his cabinet. The fact is
that the proposal of "seconding powers" was warmly welcomed by
the subcommittee when it was presented; that the members very
generally telegraphed home to their governments, and at once
received orders to support it; that it was passed by a unanimous
vote of the subcommittee; and that its strongest advocates were
the men who are most in favor of an arbitration plan. So far from
injuring the prospects of arbitration, it has increased them; it
is very generally spoken of as a victory for our delegation, and
has increased respect for our country, and for anything we may
hereafter present.


June 2.

This morning we sent a cipher telegram to the Secretary of State,
embodying the facts above stated.

The shoals of telegrams, reports of proceedings of societies,
hortatory letters, crankish proposals, and peace pamphlets from
America continue. One of the telegrams which came late last night
was pathetic; it declared that three millions of Christian
Endeavorers bade us "Godspeed," etc., etc.

During the morning De Martens, Low, Holls, and myself had a very
thoroughgoing discussion of the Russian, British, and American
arbitration plans. We found the eminent Russian under very
curious misapprehensions regarding some minor points, one of them
being that he had mistaken the signification of our word
"publicist"; and we were especially surprised to find his use of
the French word "publiciste" so broad that it would include M.
Henri Rochefort, Mr. Stead, or any newspaper writer; and he was
quite as surprised to find that with us it would include only
such men as Grotius, Wheaton, Calvo, and himself.

After a long and intricate discussion we separated on very good
terms, having made, I think, decided progress toward fusing all
three arbitration plans into one which shall embody the merits of
all.

One difficulty we found, of which neither our State Department
nor ourselves had been fully aware. Our original plan required
that the judges for the arbitration tribunal should be nominated
by the highest courts of the respective nations; but De Martens
showed us that Russia has no highest court in our sense of the
word. Then, too, there is Austria-Hungary, which has two supreme
courts of equal authority. This clause, therefore, we arranged to
alter, though providing that the original might stand as regards
countries possessing supreme courts.

At lunch we had Baron de Bildt, Swedish minister at Rome and
chief of the Swedish delegation at the conference, and Baron de
Bille, Danish minister at London and chief delegate from Denmark.
De Bille declared himself averse to a permanent tribunal to be in
constant session, on the ground that, having so little to do, it
would be in danger of becoming an object of derision to the press
and peoples of the world.

We were all glad to find, upon the arrival of the London "Times,"
that our arbitration project seemed to be receiving extensive
approval, and various telegrams from America during the day
indicated the same thing.

It looks more and more as if we are to accomplish something. The
only thing in sight calculated to throw a cloud over the future
is the attitude of the German press against the whole business
here; the most virulent in its attacks being the high Lutheran
conservative--and religious!--journal in Berlin, the
"Kreuz-Zeitung." Still, it is pleasant to see that eminent
newspaper find, for a time, some other object of denunciation
than the United States.


June 3.

In the afternoon drove to Scheveningen and took tea with Count
Munster and his daughter. He was somewhat pessimistic, as usual,
but came out very strongly in favor of the American view as
regards exemption of private property on the high seas. Whether
this is really because Germany would derive profit from it, or
because she thinks this question a serviceable entering wedge
between the United States and Great Britain, there is no telling
at present. I am sorry to say that our hopes regarding it are to
be dashed, so far as the present conference is concerned. Sundry
newspaper letters and articles in the "Times" show clearly that
the English Government is strongly opposed to dealing with it
here and now; and as France and Russia take the same position,
there is no hope for any action, save such as we can take to keep
the subject alive and to secure attention to it by some future
conference.



CHAPTER XLVII

AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE CONFERENCE
OF THE HAGUE: III--1899

June 4.

We have just had an experience which "adds to the gaiety of
nations." Some days since, representatives of what is called "the
Young Turkish party" appeared and asked to be heard. They
received, generally, the cold shoulder, mainly because the
internal condition of Turkey is not one of the things which the
conference was asked to discuss; but also because there is a
suspicion that these "Young Turks" are enabled to live in luxury
at Paris by blackmailing the Sultan, and that their zeal for
reform becomes fervid whenever their funds run low, and cools
whenever a remittance comes from the Bosphorus. But at last some
of us decided to give them a hearing, informally; the main object
being to get rid of them. At the time appointed, the delegation
appeared in evening dress, and, having been ushered into the
room, the spokesman began as follows, very impressively:

"Your Excellencies, ve are ze Young Turkeys."

This was too much for most of us, and I think that, during our
whole stay at The Hague thus far, we have never undertaken
anything more difficult, physically, than to keep our faces
straight during the harangue which followed.

Later, we went with nearly all the other members of the
conference to Haarlem, in a special train, by invitation of the
burgomaster and town council, to the "Fete Hippique" and the
"Fete des Fleurs." We were treated very well indeed, refreshments
being served on the grand stand during the performances, which
consisted of hurdle races, etc., for which I cared nothing,
followed by a procession of peasants in old chaises of various
periods, and in the costumes of the various provinces of the
Netherlands, which interested me much. The whole closed with a
long train of fine equipages superbly decorated with flowers.

Discussing the question of the immunity of private property, not
contraband of war, on the high seas, I find that the main
argument which our opponents are now using is that, even if the
principle were conceded, new and troublesome questions would
arise as to what really constitutes contraband of war; that ships
themselves would undoubtedly be considered as contraband, since
they can be used in conveying troops, coal, supplies, etc.


June 5.

Having given up the morning of the 5th mainly to work on plans of
arbitration, mediation, and the like, I went to the meeting, at
the "House in the Wood," of the third great committee of the
conference--namely, that on arbitration.

The session went off satisfactorily, our duty being to pass upon
the report from the subcommittee which had put the various
propositions into shape for our discussion. The report was
admirably presented by M. Descamps, and, after considerable
discussion of details, was adopted in all essential features. The
matters thus discussed and accepted for presentation to the
conference as a whole related:

(1) To a plan for tendering "good offices."

(2) To a plan for examining into international differences.

(3) To the "special mediation" plan.

The last was exceedingly well received, and our delegation has
obtained much credit for it. It is the plan of allowing any two
nations drifting into war to appoint "seconding nations," who,
like "seconds" in a duel, shall attempt to avert the conflict;
and, if this be unsuccessful, shall continue acting in the same
capacity, and endeavor to arrest the conflict at the earliest
moment possible.

Very general good feeling was shown, and much encouragement
derived from the fact that these preliminary matters could be
dealt with in so amicable and business-like a spirit.

Before the meeting I took a long walk in the garden back of the
palace with various gentlemen, among them Mr. van Karnebeek, who
discussed admirably with me the question of the exemption of
private property from seizure on the high seas. He agreed with me
that even if the extreme doctrine now contended for--namely, that
which makes ships, coal, provisions, and very nearly everything
else, contraband--be pressed, still a first step, such as the
exemption of private property from seizure, would be none the
less wise, leaving the subordinate questions to be dealt with as
they arise.

I afterward called with Dr. Holls at the house of the burgomaster
of The Hague, and thanked him for his kindness in tendering us
the concert last Saturday, and for various other marks of
consideration.

On the whole, matters continue to look encouraging as regards
both mediation and arbitration.


June 6.

In the morning Sir Julian Pauncefote called, and again went over
certain details in the American, British, and Russian plans of
arbitration, discussing some matters to be stricken out and
others to be inserted. He declared his readiness to strike out a
feature of his plan to which from the first, I have felt a very
great objection--namely, that which, after the tribunal is
constituted, allows the contesting parties to call into it and
mix with it persons simply chosen by the contestants ad hoc. This
seems to me a dilution of the idea of a permanent tribunal, and a
means of delay and of complications which may prove unfortunate.
It would certainly be said that if the contestants were to be
allowed to name two or more judges from outside the tribunal,
they might just as well nominate all, and thus save the expense
attendant upon a regularly constituted international court chosen
by the various governments.

Later in the day I wrote a private letter to the Secretary of
State suggesting that our American delegation be authorized to
lay a wreath of silver and gold upon the tomb of Grotius at
Delft, not only as a tribute to the man who set in motion the
ideas which, nearly three hundred years later, have led to the
assembling of this conference, but as an indication of our
gratitude to the Netherlands Government for its hospitality and
the admirable provision it has made for our work here, and also
as a sign of good-will toward the older governments of the world
on the occasion of their first meeting with delegates from the
new world, in a conference treating of matters most important to
all nations.

In the evening to Mr. van Karnebeek's reception, and there met
Mr. Raffalovitch, one of the Russian secretaries of the
conference, who, as councilor of the Russian Empire and
corresponding member of the French Institute, has a European
reputation, and urged him to aid in striking out the clause in
the plan which admits judges other than those of the court. My
hope is that it will disappear in the subcommittee and not come
up in the general meeting of the third great committee.


June 8.

The American delegation in the afternoon discussed at length the
proposals relating to the Brussels Conference rules for the more
humane carrying on of war. Considerable difference of opinion has
arisen in the section of the conference in which the preliminary
debates are held, and Captain Crozier, our representative, has
been in some doubt as to the ground to be taken between these
opposing views. On one side are those who think it best to go at
considerable length into more or less minute restrictions upon
the conduct of invaders and invaded. On the other side, M.
Bernaert of Belgium, one of the two most eminent men from that
country, and others, take the ground that it would be better to
leave the whole matter to the general development of humanity in
international law. M. de Martens insists that now is the time to
settle the matter, rather than leave it to individuals who, in
time of war, are likely to be more or less exasperated by
accounts of atrocities and to have no adequate time for deciding
upon a policy. After considerable discussion by our delegation,
the whole matter went over.

In the evening to a great reception at the house of Sir Henry
Howard, British minister at this court. It was very brilliant,
and the whole afforded an example of John Bull's good sense in
providing for his representatives abroad, and enabling them to
exercise a social influence on the communities where they are
stationed, which rapidly becomes a political influence with the
governments to which they are accredited. Sir Henry is provided
with a large, attractive house, means to entertain amply, and has
been kept in the service long enough to know everybody and to
become experienced in the right way of getting at the men he
wishes to influence, and of doing the things his government needs
to have done. Throughout the whole world this is John Bull's wise
way of doing things. At every capital I have visited, including
Washington, Constantinople, St. Petersburg, Rome, Paris, Berlin,
and Vienna, the British representative is a man who has been
selected with reference to his fitness, kept in the service long
enough to give him useful experience, and provided with a good,
commodious house and the means to exercise social and, therefore,
political influence. The result is that, although, in every
country in the world, orators and editors are always howling at
John Bull, he everywhere has his way: to use our vernacular, he
"gets there," and can laugh in his sleeve at the speeches against
him in public bodies, and at the diatribes against him in
newspapers. The men who are loudest in such attacks are generally
the most delighted to put their legs under the British
ambassador's mahogany, or to take their daughters to his
receptions and balls, and then quietly to follow the general line
of conduct which he favors.


June 9.

In the morning an interesting visit from M. de Staal, president
of the conference. We discussed arbitration plans, Brussels rules
and Geneva rules, and, finally, our social debts to the Dutch
authorities.

As to the general prospects of arbitration, he expressed the
belief that we can, by amalgamating the British, Russian, and
American plans, produce a good result.

During the day, many members of the conference having gone to
Rotterdam to see the welcoming of the Queen in that city, I took
up, with especial care, the Brussels rules for the conduct of
war, and the amendments of them now proposed in the conference,
some of which have provoked considerable debate. The more I read
the proposals now made, the more admirable most of them seem to
be, and the more it seems to me that we ought, with a few
exceptions, to adopt them. Great Britain declines to sanction
them as part of international law, but still agrees to adopt them
as a general basis for her conduct in time of war; and even this
would be a good thing for us, if we cannot induce our government
to go to the length of making them fully binding.

At six o'clock Dr. Holls, who represents us upon the subcommittee
on arbitration, came in with most discouraging news. It now
appears that the German Emperor is determined to oppose the whole
scheme of arbitration, and will have nothing to do with any plan
for a regular tribunal, whether as given in the British or the
American scheme. This news comes from various sources, and is
confirmed by the fact that, in the subcommittee, one of the
German delegates, Professor Zorn of Konigsberg, who had become
very earnest in behalf of arbitration, now says that he may not
be able to vote for it. There are also signs that the German
Emperor is influencing the minds of his allies--the sovereigns of
Austria, Italy, Turkey, and Roumania--leading them to oppose it.

Curiously enough, in spite of this, Count Nigra, the Italian
ambassador at Vienna and head of the Italian delegation, made a
vigorous speech showing the importance of the work in which the
committee is engaged, urging that the plan be perfected, and
seeming to indicate that he will go on with the representatives
who favor it. This, coming from perhaps the most earnest ally of
Germany, is noteworthy.

At the close of the session Sir Julian Pauncefote informed Dr.
Holls that he was about to telegraph his government regarding the
undoubted efforts of the German Emperor upon the sovereigns above
named, and I decided to cable our State Department, informing
them fully as to this change in the condition of affairs.

At eight went to the dinner of our minister, Mr. Newel and found
there three ambassadors, De Staal, Munster, and Pauncefote, as
well as M. Leon Bourgeois, president of the French delegation;
Sir Henry Howard, the British minister; Baron de Bildt, the
Swedish minister; and some leading Netherlands statesmen. Had a
long talk with M. de Staal and with Sir Julian Pauncefote
regarding the state of things revealed this afternoon in the
subcommittee on arbitration. M. de Staal has called a meeting of
the heads of delegations for Saturday afternoon. Both he and Sir
Julian are evidently much vexed by the unfortunate turn things
have taken. The latter feels, as I do, that the only thing to be
done is to go on and make the plan for arbitration as perfect as
possible, letting those of the powers who are willing to do so
sign it. I assured him and De Staal that we of the United States
would stand by them to the last in the matter.

Late in the evening went to a reception of M. de Beaufort, the
Netherlands minister of foreign affairs, and discussed current
matters with various people, among them Count Nigra, whom I
thanked for his eloquent speech in the afternoon, and Baron de
Bildt, who feels as I do, that the right thing for us is to go
on, no matter who falls away.


June 10.

This morning I gave to studies of the various reports sent in
from the subcommittees, especially those on arbitration and on
the Brussels Conference rules. Both have intensely interested me,
my main attention being, of course, centered on the former; but
the Brussels rules seem to me of much greater importance now than
at first, and my hope is that we shall not only devise a good
working plan of arbitration, but greatly humanize the laws of
war.

At four o'clock in the afternoon met the four other ambassadors
and two or three other heads of delegations, at the rooms of M.
de Staal, to discuss the question of relaxing the rules of
secrecy as regards the proceedings of committees, etc. The whole
original Russian plan of maintaining absolute secrecy has
collapsed, just as the representatives from constitutional
countries in the beginning said it would. Every day there are
published minute accounts in Dutch, French, and English journals
which show that, in some way, their representatives obtain enough
information to enable them, with such additional things as they
can imagine, to make readable reports. The result is that various
gentlemen in the conference who formerly favored a policy of
complete secrecy find themselves credited with speeches which
they did not make, and which they dislike to be considered
capable of making.

After a great deal of talk, it was decided to authorize the
chairman of each committee to give to the press complete reports,
so far as possible, keeping in the background the part taken by
individuals.

At six the American delegation met, and the subject of our
instructions regarding the presentation of the American view of
the immunity of private property on the high seas in time of war
was taken up. It was decided to ask some of the leading
supporters of this view to meet us at luncheon at 12.30 on
Monday, in order to discuss the best way of overcoming the
Russian plan of suppressing the matter, and to concert means for
getting the whole subject before the full conference.


June 11.

Instead of going to hear the Bishop of Hereford preach on
"Peace," I walked with Dr. Holls to Scheveningen, four miles, to
work off a nervous headache and to invite Count Munster to our
luncheon on Monday, when we purpose to take counsel together
regarding private property on the high seas. He accepted, but was
out of humor with nearly all the proceedings of the conference.
He is more than ever opposed to arbitration, and declares that,
in view of the original Russian programme under which we were
called to meet, we have no right to take it up at all, since it
was not mentioned. He was decidedly pessimistic regarding the
continuance of the sessions, asking me when I thought it would
all end; and on my answering that I had not the slightest idea,
he said that he was entirely in the dark on the subject; that
nobody could tell how long it would last, or how it would break
off.


June 12.

At half-past twelve came our American luncheon to Count Munster,
Mr. van Karnebeek, and Baron de Bildt, each of whom is at the
head of his delegation,--our purpose being to discuss with them
the best manner of getting the subject of immunity of private
property at sea, not contraband, before the conference, these
gentlemen being especially devoted to such a measure.

All went off very well, full interchange of views took place, and
the general opinion was that the best way would be for us, as the
only delegation instructed on the subject, to draw up a formal
memorial asking that the question be brought before the
conference, and sending this to M. de Staal as our president.

Curious things came out during our conversation Baron de Bildt
informed me that, strongly as he favored the measure, and
prepared as he was to vote for it, he should have to be very
careful in discussing it publicly, since his instructions were to
avoid, just as far as possible, any clash between the opinions
expressed by the Swedish representatives and those of the great
powers. Never before have I so thoroughly realized the difficult
position which the lesser powers in Europe hold as regards really
serious questions.

More surprising was the conversation of Count Munster, he being
on one side of me and Mr. van Karnebeek on the other. Bearing in
mind that the Emperor William during his long talk with me just
before I left Berlin in referring to the approaching Peace
Congress had said that he was sending Count Munster because what
the conference would most need would be "common sense," and
because, in his opinion, Count Munster had "lots of it," some of
the count's utterances astonished me. He now came out, as he did
the day before in his talk with me, utterly against arbitration,
declaring it a "humbug," and that we had no right to consider it,
since it was not mentioned in the first proposals from Russia,
etc., etc.

A little later, something having been said about telegraphs and
telephones, he expressed his belief that they are a curse as
regards the relations between nations; that they interfere with
diplomacy, and do more harm than good. This did not especially
surprise me, for I had heard the same opinions uttered by others;
but what did surprise me greatly was to hear him say, when the
subject of bacteria and microbes was casually mentioned, that
they were "all a modern humbug."

It is clear that, with all his fine qualities,--and he is really
a splendid specimen of an old-fashioned German nobleman devoted
to the diplomatic service of his country,--he is saturated with
the ideas of fifty years ago.

Returning from a drive to Scheveningen with Major Burbank of the
United States army, I sketched the first part of a draft for a
letter from our delegation to M. de Staal, and at our meeting at
six presented it, when it met with general approval. President
Low had also sketched a draft which it was thought could be
worked very well into the one which I had offered, and so we two
were made a subcommittee to prepare the letter in full.


June 13.

This morning come more disquieting statements regarding Germany.
There seems no longer any doubt that the German Emperor is
opposing arbitration, and, indeed, the whole work of the
conference, and that he will insist on his main allies, Austria
and Italy, going with him. Count Nigra, who is personally devoted
to arbitration, allowed this in talking with Dr. Holls; and the
German delegates--all of whom, with the exception of Count
Munster, are favorably inclined to a good arbitration plan--show
that they are disappointed.

I had learned from a high imperial official, before I left
Berlin, that the Emperor considered arbitration as derogatory to
his sovereignty, and I was also well aware, from his
conversation, that he was by no means in love with the conference
idea; but, in view of his speech at Wiesbaden, and the petitions
which had come in to him from Bavaria, I had hoped that he had
experienced a "change of heart."

Possibly he might have changed his opinion had not Count Munster
been here, reporting to him constantly against every step taken
by the conference.

There seems danger of a catastrophe. Those of us who are faithful
to arbitration plans will go on and do the best we can; but there
is no telling what stumbling-blocks Germany and her allies may
put in our way; and, of course, the whole result, without their
final agreement, will seem to the world a failure and, perhaps, a
farce.

The immediate results will be that the Russian Emperor will
become an idol of the "plain people" throughout the world, the
German Emperor will be bitterly hated, and the socialists, who
form the most dreaded party on the continent of Europe, will be
furnished with a thoroughly effective weapon against their
rulers.

Some days since I said to a leading diplomatist here, "The
ministers of the German Emperor ought to tell him that, should he
oppose arbitration, there will be concentrated upon him an amount
of hatred which no minister ought to allow a sovereign to incur."
To this he answered, "That is true; but there is not a minister
in Germany who dares tell him."


June 14.

This noon our delegation gave a breakfast to sundry members of
the conference who are especially interested in an effective plan
of arbitration, the principal of these being Count Nigra from
Italy; Count Welsersheimb, first delegate of Austria; M. Descamps
of Belgium; Baron d'Estournelles of France; and M. Asser of the
Netherlands. After some preliminary talk, I read to them the
proposal, which Sir Julian had handed me in the morning, for the
purpose of obviating the objection to the council of
administration in charge of the court of arbitration here in The
Hague, which was an important feature of his original plan, but
which had been generally rejected as involving expensive
machinery. His proposal now is that, instead of a council
specially appointed and salaried to watch over and provide for
the necessities of the court, such council shall simply be made
up of the ministers of sundry powers residing here,--thus doing
away entirely with the trouble and expense of a special council.

This I amended by adding the Netherlands minister of foreign
affairs as ex-officio president, there being various reasons for
this, and among these the fact that, without some such provision,
the Netherlands would have no representative in the council.

The plan and my amendment were well received, and I trust that
our full and friendly discussion of these and various matters
connected with them will produce a good effect in the committees.

Count Nigra expressed himself to me as personally most earnestly
in favor of arbitration, but it was clear that his position was
complicated by the relations of his country to Germany as one of
the Triple Alliance; and the same difficulty was observable in
the case of Count Welsersheimb, the representative of Austria,
the third ally in the combination of which Germany is the head.

In the course of our breakfast, Baron d'Estournelles made a
statement which I think impressed every person present. It was
that, as he was leaving Paris, Jaures, the famous socialist, whom
he knows well, said to him, "Go on; do all you can at The Hague,
but you will labor in vain: you can accomplish nothing there,
your schemes will fail, and we shall triumph," or words to that
effect. So clear an indication as this of the effect which a
failure of the conference to produce a good scheme of arbitration
will have in promoting the designs of the great international
socialist and anarchist combinations cannot fail to impress every
thinking man.

Dined in the evening with the French minister at this court, and
very pleasantly. There were present M. Leon Bourgeois, the French
first delegate, and the first delegates from Japan, China,
Mexico, and Turkey, with subordinate delegates from other
countries. Sitting next the lady at the right of the host, I
found her to be the wife of the premier, M. Piersoon, minister of
finance, and very agreeable. I took in to dinner Madame Behrends,
wife of the Russian charge, evidently a very thoughtful and
accomplished woman, who was born, as she told me, of English
parents in the city of New York when her father and mother were
on their way to England. I found her very interesting, and her
discussions of Russia, as well as of England and the Netherlands,
especially good.

In the smoking-room I had a long talk with M. Leon Bourgeois,
who, according to the papers, is likely to be appointed minister
of foreign affairs in the new French cabinet. He dwelt upon the
difficulties of any plan for a tribunal, but seemed ready to do
what he could for the compromise plan, which is all that, during
some time past, we have hoped to adopt.


June 15.

Early this morning Count Munster called, wishing to see me
especially, and at once plunged into the question of the immunity
of private property from seizure on the high seas. He said that
he had just received instructions from his government to join us
heartily in bringing the question before the conference; that his
government, much as it inclines to favor the principle, could not
yet see its way to commit itself fully; that its action must, of
course, depend upon the conduct of other powers in the matter, as
foreshadowed by discussions in the conference, but that he was to
aid us in bringing it up.

I told him I was now preparing a draft of a memorial to the
conference giving the reasons why the subject ought to be
submitted, and that he should have it as soon as completed.

This matter being for the time disposed of, we took up the state
of the arbitration question, and the consequences of opposition
by Germany and her two allies to every feasible plan.

He was very much in earnest, and declared especially against
compulsory arbitration. To this I answered that the plan thus far
adopted contemplated entirely voluntary arbitration, with the
exception that an obligatory system was agreed upon as regards
sundry petty matters in which arbitration would assist all the
states concerned; and that if he disliked this latter feature,
but would agree to the others, we would go with him in striking
it out, though we should vastly prefer to retain it.

He said, "Yes; you have already stricken out part of it in the
interest of the United States," referring to the features
concerning the Monroe Doctrine, the regulation of canals, rivers,
etc.

"Very true," I answered; "and if there are any special features
which affect unfavorably German policy or interests, move to
strike them out, and we will heartily support you."

He then dwelt in his usual manner on his special hobby, which is
that modern nations are taking an entirely false route in
preventing the settlement of their difficulties by trained
diplomatists, and intrusting them to arbitration by men
inexperienced in international matters, who really cannot be
unprejudiced or uninfluenced; and he spoke with especial contempt
of the plan for creating a bureau, composed, as he said, of
university professors and the like, to carry on the machinery of
the tribunal.

Here I happened to have a trump card. I showed him Sir Julian
Pauncefote's plan to substitute a council composed of all the
ministers of the signatory powers residing at The Hague, with my
amendment making the Dutch minister of foreign affairs its
president. This he read and said he liked it; in fact, it seemed
to remove a mass of prejudice from his mind.

I then spoke very earnestly to him--more so than ever
before--about the present condition of affairs. I told him that
the counselors in whom the Emperor trusted--such men as himself
and the principal advisers of his Majesty--ought never to allow
their young sovereign to be exposed to the mass of hatred,
obloquy, and opposition which would converge upon him from all
nations in case he became known to the whole world as the
sovereign who had broken down the conference and brought to
naught the plan of arbitration. I took the liberty of telling him
what the Emperor said to me regarding the count himself--namely,
that what the conference was most likely to need was good common
sense, and that he was sending Count Munster because he possessed
that. This seemed to please him, and I then went on to say that
he of all men ought to prevent, by all means, placing the young
Emperor in such a position. I dwelt on the gifts and graces of
the young sovereign, expressed my feeling of admiration for his
noble ambitions, for his abilities, for the statesmanship he had
recently shown, for his grasp of public affairs, and for his way
of conciliating all classes, and then dwelt on the pity of making
such a monarch an object of hatred in all parts of the world.

He seemed impressed by this, but said the calling of the
conference was simply a political trick--the most detestable
trick ever practised. It was done, he said mainly to embarrass
Germany, to glorify the young Russian Emperor, and to put Germany
and nations which Russia dislikes into a false position. To this
I answered, "If this be the case, why not trump the Russian
trick? or, as the poker-players say, 'Go them one better,' take
them at their word, support a good tribunal of arbitration more
efficient even than the Russians have dared to propose; let your
sovereign throw himself heartily into the movement and become a
recognized leader and power here; we will all support him, and to
him will come the credit of it.

"Then, in addition to this, support us as far as you can as
regards the immunity of private property on the high seas, and
thus you will gain another great point; for, owing to her
relations to France, Russia has not dared commit herself to this
principle as otherwise she doubtless would have done, but, on the
contrary, has opposed any consideration of it by the conference.

"Next, let attention be called to the fact--and we will gladly
aid in making the world fully aware of it--that Germany, through
you, has constantly urged the greatest publicity of our
proceedings, while certain other powers have insisted on secrecy
until secrecy has utterly broken down, and then have made the
least concession possible. In this way you will come out of the
conference triumphant, and the German Emperor will be looked upon
as, after all, the arbiter of Europe. Everybody knows that France
has never wished arbitration, and that Russian statesmen are
really, at heart, none too ardent for it. Come forward, then, and
make the matter thoroughly your own; and, having done this,
maintain your present attitude strongly as regards the two other
matters above named,--that is, the immunity from seizure of
private property on the high seas, and the throwing open of our
proceedings,--and the honors of the whole conference is yours."

He seemed impressed by all this, and took a different tone from
any which has been noted in him since we came together. I then
asked him if he had heard Baron d'Estournelles's story. He said
that he had not. I told it to him, as given in my diary
yesterday; and said, "You see there what the failure to obtain a
result which is really so much longed for by all the peoples of
the world will do to promote the designs of the socialistic
forces which are so powerful in all parts of the Continent, and
nowhere more so than in Germany and the nations allied with her."

This, too, seemed to impress him. I then went on to say, "This is
not all. By opposing arbitration, you not only put a club into
the hands of socialists, anarchists, and all the other
anti-social forces, but you alienate the substantial middle class
and the great body of religious people in all nations. You have
no conception of the depth of feeling on this subject which
exists in my own country, to say nothing of others; and if
Germany stands in the way, the distrust of her which Americans
have felt, and which as minister and ambassador at Berlin I have
labored so hard to dispel, will be infinitely increased. It will
render more and more difficult the maintenance of proper
relations between the two countries. Your sovereign will be
looked upon as the enemy of all nations, and will be exposed to
every sort of attack and calumny, while the young Emperor of
Russia will become a popular idol throughout the world, since he
will represent to the popular mind, and even to the minds of
great bodies of thinking and religious people, the effort to
prevent war and to solve public questions as much as possible
without bloodshed; while the Emperor of Germany will represent to
their minds the desire to solve all great questions by force.
Mind, I don't say this is a just view: I only say that it is the
view sure to be taken, and that by resisting arbitration here you
are playing the game of Russia, as you yourself have stated
it--that is, you are giving Russia the moral support of the whole
world at the expense of the neighboring powers, and above all of
Germany."

I then took up an argument which, it is understood, has had much
influence with the Emperor,--namely, that arbitration must be in
derogation of his sovereignty,--and asked, "How can any such
derogation be possible? Your sovereign would submit only such
questions to the arbitration tribunal as he thought best; and,
more than all that, you have already committed yourselves to the
principle. You are aware that Bismarck submitted the question of
the Caroline Islands for arbitration to the Pope, and the first
Emperor William consented to act as arbiter between the United
States and Great Britain in the matter of the American
northwestern boundary. How could arbitration affect the true
position of the sovereign? Take, for example, matters as they now
stand between Germany and the United States. There is a vast mass
of petty questions which constantly trouble the relations between
the two countries. These little questions embitter debates,
whether in your Reichstag on one hand, or in our Congress on the
other, and make the position of the Berlin and Washington
governments especially difficult. The American papers attack me
because I yield too much to Germany, the German papers attack Von
Bulow because he yields too much to America, and these little
questions remain. If Von Bulow and I were allowed to sit down and
settle them, we could do so at short notice; but behind him
stands the Reichstag, and behind our Secretary of State and
myself stands the American Congress."

I referred to such questions as the tonnage dues, the additional
tariff on bounty-promoted sugar, Samoa, the most-favored-nation
clause, in treaties between Germany and the United States, in
relation to the same clause in sundry treaties between the United
States and other powers, and said, "What a blessing it would be
if all these questions, of which both governments are tired, and
which make the more important questions constantly arising
between the two countries so difficult to settle, could be sent
at once to a tribunal and decided one way or the other! In
themselves they amount to little. It is not at all unlikely that
most of them--possibly all of them--would be decided in favor of
Germany; but the United States would acquiesce at once in the
decision by a tribunal such as is proposed. And this is just what
would take place between Germany and other nations. A mass of
vexatious questions would be settled by the tribunal, and the
sovereign and his government would thus be relieved from
parliamentary chicanery based, not upon knowledge, but upon party
tactics or personal grudges or inherited prejudices."

He seemed now more inclined to give weight to these
considerations, and will, I hope, urge his government to take a
better view than that which for some time past has seemed to be
indicated by the conduct of its representatives here.

In the afternoon I went to the five-o'clock tea of the Baroness
d'Estournelles, found a great crowd there, including the leading
delegates, and all anxious as to the conduct of Germany. Meeting
the Baroness von Suttner who has been writing such earnest books
in behalf of peace, I urged her to write with all her might to
influence public prints in Austria, Italy, and Germany in behalf
of arbitration, telling her that we are just arriving at the
parting of the ways, and that everything possible must be done
now, or all may be lost. To this she responded very heartily, and
I have no doubt will use her pen with much effect.

In the evening went to a great reception at the house of the
Austrian ambassador, M. Okolicsanyi. There was a crush. Had a
long talk with Mr. Stead, telling him D'Estournelles's story, and
urging him to use it in every way to show what a boon the failure
of arbitration would be to the anti-social forces in all parts of
Europe.

In the intervals during the day I busied myself in completing the
memorial to the conference regarding the immunity from seizure of
private property at sea. If we cannot secure it now, we must at
least pave the way for its admission by a future international
conference.



CHAPTER XLVIII

AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE CONFERENCE
OF THE HAGUE: IV--1899

June 16. This morning Count Munster called and seemed much
excited by the fact that he had received a despatch from Berlin
in which the German Government--which, of course, means the
Emperor--had strongly and finally declared against everything
like an arbitration tribunal. He was clearly disconcerted by this
too literal acceptance of his own earlier views, and said that he
had sent to M. de Staal insisting that the meeting of the
subcommittee on arbitration, which had been appointed for this
day (Friday), should be adjourned on some pretext until next
Monday; "for," said he, "if the session takes place to-day, Zorn
must make the declaration in behalf of Germany which these new
instructions order him to make, and that would be a misfortune."
I was very glad to see this evidence of change of heart in the
count, and immediately joined him in securing the adjournment he
desired. The meeting of the subcommittee has therefore been
deferred, the reason assigned, as I understand, being that Baron
d'Estournelles is too much occupied to be present at the time
first named. Later Count Munster told me that he had decided to
send Professor Zorn to Berlin at once in order to lay the whole
matter before the Foreign Office and induce the authorities to
modify the instructions. I approved this course strongly,
whereupon he suggested that I should do something to the same
purpose, and this finally ended in the agreement that Holls
should go with Zorn.

In view of the fact that Von Bulow had agreed that the German
delegates should stand side by side with us in the conference, I
immediately prepared a letter of introduction and a personal
letter to Bulow for Holls to take, and he started about five in
the afternoon. This latter is as follows:

(Copy.) (Personal.)

                                               June 16, 1899
DEAR BARON VON BULOW:

I trust that, in view of the kindly relations which exist between
us, succeeding as they do similar relations begun twenty years
ago with your honored father, you will allow me to write you
informally, but fully and frankly, regarding the interests of
both our governments in the peace conference. The relations
between your delegates and ours have, from the first, been of the
kindest; your assurances on this point have been thoroughly
carried out. But we seem now to be at "the parting of the ways,"
and on the greatest question submitted to us,--the greatest, as I
believe, that any conference or any congress has taken up in our
time,--namely, the provision for a tribunal of arbitration.

It is generally said here that Germany is opposed to the whole
thing, that she is utterly hostile to anything like arbitration,
and that she will do all in her power, either alone or through
her allies, to thwart every feasible plan of providing for a
tribunal which shall give some hope to the world of settling some
of the many difficulties between nations otherwise than by
bloodshed.

No rational man here expects all wars to be ended by anything
done here; no one proposes to submit to any such tribunal
questions involving the honor of any nation or the inviolability
of its territory, or any of those things which nations feel
instinctively must be reserved for their own decision. Nor does
any thinking man here propose obligatory arbitration in any case,
save, possibly, in sundry petty matters where such arbitration
would be a help to the ordinary administration of all
governments; and, even as to these, they can be left out of the
scheme if your government seriously desires it.

The great thing is that there be a provision made or easily
calling together a court of arbitration which shall be seen of
all nations, indicate a sincere desire to promote peace, and, in
some measure, relieve the various peoples of the fear which so
heavily oppresses them all--the dread of an outburst of war at
any moment.

I note that it has been believed by many that the motives of
Russia in proposing this conference were none too good,--indeed,
that they were possibly perfidious; but, even if this be granted,
how does this affect the conduct of Germany? Should it not rather
lead Germany to go forward boldly and thoughtfully, to accept the
championship of the idea of arbitration, and to take the lead in
the whole business here?

Germany, if she will do this, will certainly stand before the
whole world as the leading power of Europe; for she can then say
to the whole world that she has taken the proposal of Russia au
serieux; has supported a thoroughly good plan of arbitration; has
done what Russia and France have not been willing to do,--favored
the presentation to the conference of a plan providing for the
immunity of private property from seizure on the high seas during
war,--and that while, as regards the proceedings of the
conference, Russia has wished secrecy, Germany has steadily, from
the first, promoted frankness and openness.

With these three points in your favor, you can stand before the
whole world as the great Continental power which has stood up f
or peace as neither Russia nor France has been able to do. On the
other hand, if you do not do this, if you put a stumbling-block
in the way of arbitration, what results? The other powers will go
on and create as good a tribunal as possible, and whatever
failure may come will be imputed to Germany and to its Emperor.
In any case, whether failure or success may come, the Emperor of
Russia will be hailed in all parts of the world as a deliverer
and, virtually, as a saint, while there will be a wide-spread
outburst of hatred against the German Emperor.

And this will come not alone from the anti-social forces which
are hoping that the conference may fail, in order that thereby
they may have a new weapon in their hands, but it will also come
from the middle and substantial classes of other nations.

It is sure to make the relations between Germany and the United
States, which have been of late improving infinitely more bitter
than they have ever before been and it is no less sure to provoke
the most bitter hatred of the German monarchy in nearly all other
nations.

Should his advisers permit so noble and so gifted a sovereign to
incur this political storm of obloquy, this convergence of hatred
upon him? Should a ruler of such noble ambitions and such
admirable powers be exposed to this? I fully believe that he
should not, and that his advisers should beg him not to place
himself before the world as the antagonist of a plan to which
millions upon millions in all parts of the world are devoted.

From the United States come evidences of a feeling wide-spread
and deep on this subject beyond anything I have ever known. This
very morning I received a prayer set forth by the most
conservative of all Protestant religious bodies--namely, the
American branch of the Anglican Church--to be said in all
churches, begging the Almighty to favor the work of the peace
conference; and this is what is going on in various other
American churches, and in vast numbers of households. Something
of the same sort is true in Great Britain and, perhaps in many
parts of the Continent.

Granted that expectations are overwrought, still this fact
indicates that here is a feeling which cannot be disregarded.

Moreover, to my certain knowledge, within a month, a leading
socialist in France has boasted to one of the members of this
conference that it would end in failure; that the monarchs and
governments of Europe do not wish to diminish bloodshed; that
they would refuse to yield to the desire of the peoples for
peace, and that by the resentment thus aroused a new path to
victory would be open to socialism.

Grant, too, that this is overstated, still such a declaration is
significant.

I know it has been said that arbitration is derogatory to
sovereignty. I really fail to see how this can be said in
Germany. Germany has already submitted a great political question
between herself and Spain to arbitration, and the Emperor William
I was himself the arbiter between the United States and Great
Britain in the matter of our northwestern boundary.

Bear in mind again that it is only VOLUNTARY arbitration that is
proposed, and that it will always rest with the German Emperor to
decide what questions he will submit to the tribunal and what he
will not.

It has also been said that arbitration proceedings would give the
enemies of Germany time to put themselves in readiness for war;
but if this be feared in any emergency, the Emperor and his
government are always free to mobilize the German army at once.

As you are aware, what is seriously proposed here now, in the way
of arbitration, is not a tribunal constantly in session, but a
system under which each of the signatory powers shall be free to
choose, for a limited time, from an international court, say two
or more judges who can go to The Hague if their services are
required, but to be paid only while actually in session here;
such payment to be made by the litigating parties.

As to the machinery, the plan is that there shall be a dignified
body composed of the diplomatic representatives of the various
signatory powers, to sit at The Hague, presided over by the
Netherlands minister of foreign affairs, and to select and to
control such secretaries and officers as may be necessary for the
ordinary conduct of affairs.

Such council would receive notice from powers having differences
with each other which are willing to submit the questions between
them to a court, and would then give notice to the judges
selected by the parties. The whole of the present plan, except
some subordinate features of little account, which can easily be
stricken out, is voluntary. There is nothing whatever obligatory
about it. Every signatory power is free to resort to such a
tribunal or not, as it may think best. Surely a concession like
this may well be made to the deep and wide sentiment throughout
the world in favor of some possible means of settling
controversies between nations other than by bloodshed.

Pardon me for earnestly pressing upon you these facts and
considerations. I beg that you will not consider me as going
beyond my province. I present them to you as man to man, not only
in the interest of good relations between Germany and the United
States, but of interests common to all the great nations of the
earth,--of their common interest in giving something like
satisfaction to a desire so earnest and wide-spread as that which
has been shown in all parts of the world for arbitration.

I remain, dear Baron von Bulow,
Most respectfully and sincerely yours,
                (Sgd.) ANDREW D. WHITE.


P. S. Think how easily, if some such tribunal existed, your
government and mine could refer to it the whole mass of minor
questions which our respective parliamentary bodies have got
control of, and entangled in all sorts of petty prejudices and
demagogical utterances; for instance, Samoa, the tonnage dues,
the sugar-bounty question, the most-favored-nation clause, etc.,
etc., which keep the two countries constantly at loggerheads. Do
you not see that submission of such questions to such a tribunal
as is now proposed, so far from being derogatory to sovereignty,
really relieves the sovereign and the Foreign Office of the most
vexatious fetters and limitations of parliamentarianism. It is
not at all unlikely that such a court would decide in your favor;
and if so, every thoughtful American would say, "Well and good;
it appears that, in spite of all the speeches in Congress, we
were wrong." And the matter would then be ended with the
good-will of all parties.
(Sgd.) A.D.W.


It is indeed a crisis in the history of the conference, and
perhaps in the history of Germany. I can only hope that Bulow
will give careful attention to the considerations which Munster
and myself press upon him.

Later in the day Sir Julian Pauncefote called, evidently much
vexed that the sitting of the subcommittee had been deferred, and
even more vexed since he had learned from De Staal the real
reason. He declared that he was opposed to stringing out the
conference much longer; that the subcommittee could get along
perfectly well without Dr. Zorn; that if Germany did not wish to
come in, she could keep out; etc., etc. He seemed to forget that
Germany's going out means the departure of Austria and Italy, to
say nothing of one or two minor powers, and therefore the
bringing to naught of the conference. I did not think it best to
say anything about Molls's departure, but soothed him as much as
I could by dwelling on the success of his proposal that the
permanent council here shall be composed of the resident
diplomatic representatives.

The other members of our commission, and especially President
Low, were at first very much opposed to Dr. Holls's going, on the
ground that it might be considered an interference in a matter
pertaining to Germany; but I persisted in sending him, agreeing
to take all the responsibility, and declaring that he should go
simply as a messenger from me, as the American ambassador at
Berlin, to the imperial minister of foreign affairs.

June 17.

The morning was given largely to completing my draft of our
memorial to the conference regarding the immunity of private
property in time of war from seizure on the high seas.

In the afternoon drove to Scheveningen to make sundry official
visits, and in the evening to the great festival given by the
Netherlands Government to the conference.

Its first feature was a series of tableaux representing some of
the most famous pictures in the Dutch galleries the most
successful of all being Rembrandt's "Night Watch." Jan Steen's
"Wedding Party" was also very beautiful. Then came peasant dances
given, in the midst of the great hall, by persons in the costumes
of all the different provinces. These were characteristic and
interesting, some of them being wonderfully quaint.

The violinist of the late King, Johannes Wolff, played some solos
in a masterly way.

The music by the great military band, especially the hymn of
William of Nassau and the Dutch and Russian national anthems, was
splendidly rendered, and the old Dutch provincial music played in
connection with the dances and tableaux was also noteworthy.

It was an exceedingly brilliant assemblage, and the whole
festival from first to last a decided success.


June 18, Sunday.

Went to Leyden to attend service at St. Peter's. Both the church
and its monuments are interesting. Visited also the church of St.
Pancras, a remarkable specimen of Gothic architecture, and looked
upon the tomb of Van der Werf, the brave burgomaster who defended
the town against the Spaniards during the siege.

At the university I was much interested in the public hall where
degrees are conferred, and above all in the many portraits of
distinguished professors. Lingered next in the botanical gardens
back of the university, which are very beautiful.

Then to the Museum of Antiquities, which is remarkably rich in
Egyptian and other monuments. Roman art is also very fully
represented.

Thence home, and, on arriving, found, of all men in the world,
Thomas B. Reed, Speaker of our House of Representatives. Mr.
Newel, our minister, took us both for a drive to Scheveningen,
and Mr. Reed's conversation was exceedingly interesting; he is
well read in history and, apparently, in every field of English
literature. There is a bigness, a heartiness, a shrewdness, and a
genuineness about him which greatly attract me.


June 19.

Called on M. de Staal to show him Holls's telegram from Berlin,
which is encouraging. De Staal thinks that we may have to give up
the tenth section of the arbitration plan, which includes
obligatory arbitration in sundry minor matters; but while I shall
be very sorry to see this done, we ought to make the sacrifice if
it will hold Germany, Italy, and Austria to us.

A little later received a hearty telegram from the Secretary of
State authorizing our ordering the wreath of silver and gold and
placing it on the tomb of Grotius. Telegraphed and wrote Major
Allen at Berlin full directions on the subject. I am determined
that the tribute shall be worthy of our country, of its object,
and of the occasion.

In the afternoon took Speaker Reed, with his wife and daughter,
through the "House in the Wood," afterward through the grounds,
which are more beautiful than ever, and then to Delft, where we
visited the tombs of William the Silent and Grotius, and finally
the house in which William was assassinated. It was even more
interesting to me than during either of my former visits, and was
evidently quite as interesting to Mr. Reed.

At six attended a long meeting of the American delegation, which
elaborated the final draft of our communication to M. de Staal on
the immunity of private property on the high seas. Various
passages were stricken out, some of them--and, indeed, one of the
best--in deference to the ideas of Captain Mahan, who, though he
is willing, under instructions from the government, to join in
presenting the memorial, does not wish to sign anything which can
possibly be regarded as indicating a personal belief in the
establishment of such immunity. His is the natural view of a
sailor; but the argument with which he supports it does not at
all convince me. It is that during war we should do everything
possible to weaken and worry the adversary, in order that he may
be the sooner ready for peace; but this argument proves too much,
since it would oblige us, if logically carried out, to go back to
the marauding and atrocities of the Thirty Years' War.


June 20.

Went to the session of one of the committees at the "House in the
Wood," and showed Mr. van Karnebeek our private-property
memorial, which he read, and on which he heartily complimented
us.

I then made known to him our proposal to lay a wreath on the tomb
of Grotius, and with this he seemed exceedingly pleased, saying
that the minister of foreign affairs, M. de Beaufort, would be
especially delighted, since he is devoted to the memory of
Grotius, and delivered the historical address when the statue in
front of the great church at Delft was unveiled.

A little later submitted the memorial; as previously agreed upon,
to Count Munster, who also approved it.

Holls telegraphs me from Berlin that he has been admirably
received by the chancellor, Prince Hohenlohe, and by Baron von
Bulow, and that he is leaving for Hamburg to see the Emperor.

At four P.M. to a meeting of the full conference to receive
report on improvements and extension of the Red Cross rules, etc.
This was adopted in a happy-go-lucky unparliamentary way, for the
eminent diplomatist who presides over the conference still
betrays a Russian lack of acquaintance with parliamentary
proceedings. So begins the first full movement of the conference
in the right direction; and it is a good beginning.

Walked home through the beautiful avenues of the park with Mr.
van Karnebeek and Baron d'Estournelles, who is also a charming
man. He has been a minister plenipotentiary, but is now a member
of the French Chamber of Deputies and of the conference.


June 21.

Early in the morning received a report from Holls, who arrived
from Hamburg late last night. His talks with Bulow and Prince
Hohenlohe had been most encouraging. Bulow has sent to the
Emperor my long private letter to himself, earnestly urging the
acceptance by Germany of our plan of arbitration. Prince
Hohenlohe seems to have entered most cordially into our ideas,
giving Holls a card which would admit him to the Emperor, and
telegraphing a request that his Majesty see him. But the Emperor
was still upon his yacht, at sea, and Holls could stay no longer.
Bulow is trying to make an appointment for him to meet the
Emperor at the close of the week.

Early in the afternoon went with Minister Newel and Mr. Low to
call on M. de Beaufort regarding plans for the Grotius
celebration, on July 4, at Delft. It was in general decided that
we should have the ceremony in the great church at eleven o
'clock, with sundry speeches, and that at half-past twelve the
American delegation should give a luncheon to all the invited
guests in the town hall opposite.

Holls tells me that last night, at the dinner of the president of
the Austrian delegation, he met Munster, who said to him, "I can
get along with Hohenlohe, and also with Bulow, but not with those
d--d lawyers in the Foreign Office" ("Mit Hohenlohe kann ich
auskommen, mit Bulow auch, aber mit diesen verdammten Juristen im
Auswartigen Amt, nicht.").


June 22.

Up at four o'clock and at ten attended a session of the first
section at the "House in the Wood." Very interesting were the
discussions regarding bullets and asphyxiating bombs. As to the
former, Sir John Ardagh of the British delegation repelled
earnestly the charges made regarding the British bullets used in
India, and offered to substitute for the original proposal one
which certainly would be much more effective in preventing
unnecessary suffering and death; but the Russians seemed glad to
score a point against Great Britain, and Sir John's proposal was
voted down, its only support being derived from our own
delegation. Captain Crozier, our military delegate, took an
active part in supporting Sir John Ardagh, but the majority
against us was overwhelming.

As to asphyxiating bombs, Captain Mahan spoke at length against
the provision to forbid them: his ground being that not the
slightest thing had yet been done looking to such an invention;
that, even if there had been, their use would not be so bad as
the use of torpedoes against ships of war; that asphyxiating men
by means of deleterious gases was no worse than asphyxiating them
with water; indeed, that the former was the less dangerous of the
two, since the gases used might simply incapacitate men for a
short time, while the blowing up of a ship of war means death to
all or nearly all of those upon it.

To this it was answered--and, as it seemed to me, with
force--that asphyxiating bombs might be used against towns for
the destruction of vast numbers of non-combatants, including
women and children, while torpedoes at sea are used only against
the military and naval forces of the enemy. The original proposal
was carried by a unanimous vote, save ours. I am not satisfied
with our attitude on this question; but what can a layman do when
he has against him the foremost contemporary military and naval
experts? My hope is that the United States will yet stand with
the majority on the record.

I stated afterward in a bantering way to Captain Mahan, as well
as others, that while I could not support any of the arguments
that had been made in favor of allowing asphyxiating bombs, there
was one which somewhat appealed to me--namely, that the dread of
them might do something to prevent the rush of the rural
population to the cities, and the aggregation of the poorer
classes in them, which is one of the most threatening things to
modern society, and also a second argument that such bombs would
bring home to warlike stay-at-home orators and writers the
realities of war.

At noon received the French translation of our memorial to De
Staal, but found it very imperfect throughout, and in some parts
absolutely inadmissible; so I worked with Baron de Bildt,
president of the Swedish delegation here, all the afternoon in
revising it.

At six the American delegation met and chose me for their orator
at the approaching Grotius festival at Delft. I naturally feel
proud to discharge a duty of this kind, and can put my heart into
it, for Grotius has long been to me almost an object of idolatry,
and his main works a subject of earnest study. There are few men
in history whom I so deeply venerate. Twenty years ago, when
minister at Berlin, I sent an eminent American artist to Holland
and secured admirable copies of the two best portraits of the
great man. One of these now hangs in the Law Library of Cornell
University, and the other over my work-table at the Berlin
Embassy.

June 23.

At work all the morning on letters and revising final draft of
memorial on immunity of private property at sea, and lunched
afterward at the "House in the Wood" to talk it over with Baron
de Bildt.

At the same table met M. de Martens, who has just returned by
night to his work here, after presiding a day or two over the
Venezuela arbitration tribunal at Paris. He told me that Sir
Richard Webster, in opening the case, is to speak for sixteen
days, and De Martens added that he himself had read our entire
Venezuelan report, as well as the other documents on the subject
which form quite a large library. And yet we do not include men
like him in "the working-classes"!

In the evening to a reception at the house of M. de Beaufort,
minister of foreign affairs, and was cordially greeted by him and
his wife, both promising that they would accept our invitation to
Delft. I took in to the buffet the wife of the present Dutch
prime minister, who also expressed great interest in our
proposal, and declared her intention of being present.

Count Zanini, the Italian minister and delegate here, gave me a
comical account of two speeches in the session of the first
section this morning; one being by a delegate from Persia, Mirza
Riza Khan, who is minister at St. Petersburg. His Persian
Excellency waxed eloquent over the noble qualities of the Emperor
of Russia, and especially over his sincerity as shown by the fact
that when his Excellency tumbled from his horse at a review, his
Majesty sent twice to inquire after his health. The whole effect
upon the conference was to provoke roars of laughter.

But the great matter of the day was the news, which has not yet
been made public, that Prince Hohenlohe, the German chancellor,
has come out strongly for the arbitration tribunal, and has sent
instructions here accordingly. This is a great gain, and seems to
remove one of the worst stumbling-blocks. But we will have to pay
for this removal, probably, by giving up section 10 of the
present plan, which includes a system of obligatory arbitration
in various minor matters,--a system which would be of use to the
world in many ways. While the American delegation, as stated in
my letter which Holls took to Bulow, and which has been forwarded
to the Emperor, will aid in throwing out of the arbitration plan
everything of an obligatory nature, if Germany insists upon it, I
learn that the Dutch Government is much opposed to this
concession, and may publicly protest against it.

A curious part of the means used in bringing about this change of
opinion was the pastoral letter, elsewhere referred to, issued by
the Protestant Episcopal bishop of Texas, calling for prayers
throughout the State for the success of the conference in its
efforts to diminish the horrors of war. This pastoral letter, to
which I referred in my letter to Minister von Bulow, I intrusted
to Holls, authorizing him to use it as he thought fit. He showed
it to Prince Hohenlohe, and the latter, although a Roman
Catholic, was evidently affected by it, and especially by the
depth and extent of the longing for peace which it showed. It is
perhaps an interesting example of an indirect "answer to prayer,"
since it undoubtedly strengthened the feelings in the prince
chancellor's mind which led him to favor arbitration.


June 24.

Sent to M. de Staal, as president of the conference, the memorial
relating to the exemption of private property, not contraband of
war, from capture on the high seas. Devoted the morning to
blocking out my Grotius address, and afterward drove with Holls
to Delft to look over the ground for our Fourth-of-July festival.
The town hall is interesting and contains, among other portraits,
one which is evidently a good likeness of Grotius; the only
difficulty is that, for our intended luncheon, the rooms, though
beautiful, seem inadequate.

Thence to the church, and after looking over that part of it near
the monuments, with reference to the Grotius ceremony, went into
the organ-loft with the organist. There I listened for nearly an
hour while he and Holls played finely on that noble instrument;
and as I sat and looked down over the church and upon the distant
monuments, the old historic scenes of four hundred years ago came
up before me, with memories almost overpowering of my first visit
thirty-five years ago. And all then with me are now dead.


June 25.

At nine in the morning off with Holls to Rotterdam, and on
arriving took the tram through the city to the steamboat wharf,
going thence by steamer to Dort. Arrived, just before the close
of service, at the great church where various sessions of the
synod were held. The organ was very fine; the choir-stalls, where
those wretched theologians wrangled through so many sessions and
did so much harm to their own country and others, were the only
other fine things in the church, and they were much dilapidated.
I could not but reflect bitterly on the monstrous evils provoked
by these men who sat so long there spinning a monstrous theology
to be substituted for the teachings of Christ himself.

Thence back to The Hague and to Scheveningen, and talked over
conference matters with Count Munster. Received telegrams from
Count von Bulow in answer to mine congratulating him on his
promotion, also one from Baron von Mumm, the German minister at
Luxemburg, who goes temporarily to Washington.


June 26.

At work all the morning on my Grotius address Lunched at the
"House in the Wood," and walked to town with sundry delegates. In
the afternoon went to a "tea" at the house of Madame Boreel and
met a number of charming people; but the great attraction was the
house, which is that formerly occupied by John De Witt--that from
which he went to prison and to assassination. Here also Motley
lived, and I was shown the room in which a large part of his
history was written, and where Queen Sophia used to discuss Dutch
events and personages with him.

The house is beautiful, spacious, and most charmingly decorated,
many of the ornaments and paintings having been placed there in
the time of De Witt.


June 27.

At all sorts of work during the morning, and then, on invitation
of President Low, went with the other members of the delegation
to Haarlem, where we saw the wonderful portraits by Frans Hals,
which impressed me more than ever, and heard the great organ. It
has been rebuilt since I was there thirty-five years ago; but it
is still the same great clumsy machine, and very poorly
played,--that is, with no spirit, and without any effort to
exhibit anything beyond the ordinary effects for which any little
church organ would do as well.

In the evening dined with Count Zanini, the Italian minister and
delegate, and discussed French matters with Baron d'Estournelles.
He represents the best type of French diplomatist, and is in
every way attractive.

Afterward to Mr. van Karnebeek's reception, meeting various
people in a semi-satisfactory way.


June 29.

In the morning, in order to work off the beginnings of a
headache, I went to Rotterdam and walked until noon about the
streets and places, recalling my former visit, which came very
vividly before me as I gazed upon the statue of Erasmus, and
thought upon his life here. No man in history has had more
persistent injustice done him. If my life were long enough I
would gladly use my great collection of Erasmiana in illustrating
his services to the world. To say nothing of other things, the
modern "Higher Criticism" has its roots in his work.


June 30.

Engaged on the final revision of my Grotius speech, and on
various documents.

At noon to the "House in the Wood" for lunch, and afterward took
a walk in the grounds with Beldiman, the Roumanian delegate, who
explained to me the trouble in Switzerland over the vote on the
Red Cross Conference.

It appears that whereas Switzerland initiated the Red Cross
movement, has ever since cherished it, and has been urged by
Italy and other powers to take still further practical measures
for it, the Dutch delegation recently interposed, secured for one
of their number the presidency of the special conference, and
thus threw out my Berlin colleague, Colonel Roth, who had been
previously asked to take the position and had accepted it, with
the result that the whole matter has been taken out of the hands
of Switzerland, where it justly belonged, and put under the care
of the Netherlands. This has provoked much ill feeling in
Switzerland, and there is especial astonishment at the fact that
when Beldiman moved an amendment undoing this unjust arrangement
it was, by some misunderstanding lost, and that therefore there
has been perpetuated what seems much like an injustice against
Switzerland. I promised to exert myself to have the matter
rectified so far as the American delegation was concerned, and
later was successful in doing so.

In the evening dined at Minister Newel's. Sat between Minister
Okolicsanyi of the Austrian delegation, and Count Welsersheimb,
the chairman of that delegation, and had interesting talks with
them, with the Duke of Tetuan, and others. It appears that the
Duke, who is a very charming, kindly man, has, like myself, a
passion both for cathedral architecture and for organ music; he
dwelt much upon Burgos, which he called the gem of Spanish
cathedrals.

Thence to the final reception at the house of M. de Beaufort,
minister of foreign affairs, who showed me a contemporary
portrait of Grotius which displays the traits observable in the
copies which Burleigh painted for me twenty years ago at
Amsterdam and Leyden. Talked with Sir Julian Pauncefote regarding
the Swiss matter; he had abstained from voting for the reason
that he had no instructions in the premises.


July 2.

In the morning Major Allen, military attache of our embassy at
Berlin, arrived, bringing the Grotius wreath. Under Secretary
Hay's permission, I had given to one of the best Berlin
silversmiths virtually carte blanche, and the result is most
satisfactory. The wreath is very large, being made up, on one
side, of a laurel branch with leaves of frosted silver and
berries of gold, and, on the other, of an oak branch with silver
leaves and gold acorns, both boughs being tied together at the
bottom by a large knot of ribbon in silver gilded, bearing the
arms of the Netherlands and the United States on enameled
shields, and an inscription as follows:


     To the Memory of HUGO GROTIUS;
           In Reverence and Gratitude,
      From the United States of America;
  On the Occasion of the International Peace Conference
            of The Hague.
           July 4th, 1899.


It is a superb piece of work, and its ebony case, with silver
clasps, and bearing a silver shield with suitable inscription, is
also perfect: the whole thing attracts most favorable attention.



 CHAPTER XLIX

AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE CONFERENCE
OF THE HAGUE: V--1899

July 4.

On this day the American delegation invited their colleagues to
celebrate our national anniversary at the tomb of Grotius, first
in the great church, and afterward in the town hall of Delft.
Speeches were made by the minister of foreign affairs of the
Netherlands De Beaufort; by their first delegate, Van Karnebeek;
by Mr. Asser, one of their leading jurists; by the burgomaster of
Delft; and by Baron de Bildt, chairman of the Swedish delegation
and minister at Rome, who read a telegram from the King of Sweden
referring to Grotius's relations to the Swedish diplomatic
service; as well as by President Low of Columbia University and
myself: the duty being intrusted to me of laying the wreath upon
Grotius's tomb and making the address with reference to it. As
all the addresses are to be printed, I shall give no more
attention to them here. A very large audience was present,
embracing the ambassadors and principal members of the
conference, the Netherlands ministers of state, professors from
the various universities of the Netherlands, and a large body of
other invited guests.

The music of the chimes, of the organ, and of the royal choir of
one hundred voices was very fine; and, although the day was
stormy, with a high wind and driving rain, everything went off
well.

After the exercises in the church, our delegation gave a
breakfast, which was very satisfactory. About three hundred and
fifty persons sat down to the tables at the town hall, and one
hundred other guests, including the musicians, at the leading
restaurant in the place. In the afternoon the Americans gathered
at the reception given by our minister, Mr. Newel, and his wife,
and in the evening there was a large attendance at an "American
concert" given by the orchestra at the great hall in
Scheveningen.

July 5.

Early in the morning to the second committee of the conference,
where I spoke in behalf of the Beldiman resolution, doing justice
to Switzerland as regards the continuance of the Red Cross
interests in Swiss hands; and on going to a vote we were
successful.

Then, the question of a proper dealing with our memorial
regarding the immunity of private property on the high seas
coming up, I spoke in favor of referring it to the general
conference, and gave the reasons why it should not simply be
dropped out as not coming within the subjects contemplated in the
call to the conference. Though my speech was in French, it went
off better than I expected.

In the afternoon, at the full conference, the same subject came
up; and then, after a preface in French, asking permission to
speak in English, I made my speech, which, probably, three
quarters of all the delegates understood, but, at my request, a
summary of it was afterward given in French by Mr. van Karnebeek.

The occasion of this speech was my seconding the motion, made in
a very friendly manner by M. de Martens, to refer the matter to a
future conference; but I went into the merits of the general
subject to show its claims upon the various nations, etc., etc.,
though not, of course, as fully as I would have done had the
matter been fully under discussion. My speech was very well
received, and will, I hope, aid in keeping the subject alive.

In the afternoon drove to Ryswyck, to the house of M. Cornets de
Groot, the living representative of the Grotius family. The house
and grounds were very pleasant, but the great attraction was a
collection of relics of Grotius, including many manuscripts from
his own hand,--among these a catechism for his children, written
in the prison of Loewenstein; with official documents, signed and
sealed, connected with the public transactions of his time; also
letters which passed between him and Oxenstiern, the great
Swedish chancellor, some in Latin and some in other languages;
besides sundry poems. There were also a multitude of portraits,
engravings, and documents relating to Olden-Barneveld and others
of Grotius's contemporaries.

The De Groot family gave us a most hearty reception, introducing
their little girl, who is the latest-born descendant of Grotius,
and showing us various household relics of their great ancestor,
including cups, glasses, and the like. Mr. De Groot also gave me
some curious information regarding him which I did not before
possess; and, among other things, told me that when Grotius's
body was transferred, shortly after his death, from Rostock to
Delft, the coffin containing it was stoned by a mob at Rotterdam;
also that at the unveiling of the statue of Grotius in front of
the church at Delft, a few years ago, the high-church Calvinists
would not allow the children from their church schools to join
the other children in singing hymns. The old bitterness of the
extreme Calvinistic party toward their great compatriot was thus
still exhibited, and the remark was made at the time, by a member
of it, that the statue was perfectly true to life, since "its
back was turned toward the church"; to which a reply was made
that "Grotius's face in the statue, like his living face, was
steadily turned toward justice." This latter remark had reference
to the fact that a court is held in the city hall, toward which
the statue is turned.

In the evening to a dinner given by Mr. Piersoon, minister of
finance and prime minister of the Netherlands, to our delegation
and to his colleagues of the Dutch ministry. Everything passed
off well, Mr. Piersoon proposing a toast to the health of the
President of the United States, to which I replied in a toast to
the Queen of the Netherlands. In the course of his speech Mr.
Piersoon thanked us for our tribute to Grotius, and showed really
deep feeling on the subject. There is no doubt that we have
struck a responsive chord in the hearts of all liberal and
thoughtful men and women of the Netherlands; from every quarter
come evidences of this.

A remark of his, regarding arbitration, especially pleased us. He
said that the arbitration plan, as it had come from the great
committee, was like a baby:--apparently helpless, and of very
little value, unable to do much, and requiring careful nursing;
but that it had one great merit:--IT WOULD GROW.

This I believe to be a very accurate statement of the situation.
The general feeling of the conference becomes better and better.
More and more the old skepticism has departed, and in place of it
has come a strong ambition to have a share in what we are
beginning to believe may be a most honorable contribution to the
peace of the world. I have never taken part in more earnest
discussions than those which during the last two weeks have
occupied us, and especially those relating to arbitration.

I think I may say, without assuming too much, that our Grotius
celebration has been a contribution of some value to this growth
of earnestness. It has, if I am not greatly mistaken, revealed to
the conference, still more clearly than before, the fact that it
is a historical body intrusted with a matter of vast importance
and difficulty, and that we shall be judged in history with
reference to this fact.


July 6.

At 5.30 P.M. off in special train with the entire conference to
Amsterdam. On arriving, we found a long train of court carriages
which took us to the palace, the houses on each side throughout
the entire distance being decorated with flags and banners, and
the streets crowded with men, women, and children. We were indeed
a brave show, since all of us, except the members of our American
delegation, wore gorgeous uniforms with no end of ribbons, stars,
and insignia of various offices and orders.

On reaching our destination, we were received by the Queen and
Queen-mother, and shortly afterward went in to dinner. With the
possible exception of a lord mayor's feast at the Guildhall, it
was the most imposing thing of the kind that I have ever seen.
The great banqueting-hall, dating from the glorious days of the
Dutch Republic, is probably the largest and most sumptuous in
continental Europe, and the table furniture, decorations, and
dinner were worthy of it. About two hundred and fifty persons,
including all the members of the conference and the higher
officials of the kingdom, sat down, the Queen and Queen-mother at
the head of the table, and about them the ambassadors and
presidents of delegations. My own place, being very near the
Majesties, gave me an excellent opportunity to see and hear
everything. Toward the close of the banquet the young Queen arose
and addressed us, so easily and naturally that I should have
supposed her speech extemporaneous had I not seen her consulting
her manuscript just before rising. Her manner was perfect, and
her voice so clear as to be heard by every one in the hall.
Everything considered, it was a remarkable effort for a young
lady of seventeen. At its close an excellent reply was made by
our president, M. de Staal; and soon afterward, when we had
passed into the great gallery, there came an even more striking
exhibition of the powers of her youthful Majesty, for she
conversed with every member of the conference, and with the
utmost ease and simplicity. To me she returned thanks for the
Grotius tribute, and in very cordial terms, as did later also the
Queen-mother; and I cannot but believe that they were sincere,
since, three months later, at the festival given them at Potsdam,
they both renewed their acknowledgments in a cordial way which
showed that their patriotic hearts were pleased. Various leading
men of the Netherlands and of the conference also thanked us, and
one of them said, "You Americans have taught us a lesson; for,
instead of a mere display of fireworks to the rabble of a single
city, or a ball or concert to a few officials, you have, in this
solemn recognition of Grotius, paid the highest compliment
possible to the entire people of the Netherlands, past, present,
and to come."


July 7.

In the morning to the great hall of the "House in the Wood,"
where the "editing committee" (comite de redaction) reported to
the third committee of the conference the whole arbitration plan.
It struck me most favorably,--indeed, it surprised me, though I
have kept watch of every step. I am convinced that it is better
than any of the plans originally submitted, not excepting our
own. It will certainly be a gain to the world.

At the close of the session we adjourned until Monday, the 17th,
in order that the delegates may get instructions from their
various governments regarding the signing of the protocols,
agreements, etc.


July 8.

In the evening dined with M. de Mier, the Mexican minister at
Paris and delegate here, and had a very interesting talk with M.
Raffalovitch, to whom I spoke plainly regarding the only road to
disarmament. I told him that he must know as well as any one that
there is a vague dread throughout Europe of the enormous growth
of Russia, and that he must acknowledge that, whether just or
not, it is perfectly natural. He acquiesced in this, and I then
went on to say that the Emperor Nicholas had before him an
opportunity to do more good and make a nobler reputation than any
other czar had ever done, not excepting Alexander II with his
emancipation of the serfs; that I had thought very seriously of
writing, at the close of the conference, to M. Pobedonostzeff,
presenting to him the reasons why Russia might well make a
practical beginning of disarmament by dismissing to their homes,
or placing on public works, say two hundred thousand of her
soldiers; that this would leave her all the soldiers she needs,
and more; that he must know, as everybody knows, that no other
power dreams of attacking Russia or dares to do so; that there
would be no disadvantage in such a dismissal of troops to
peaceful avocations, but every advantage; and that if it were
done the result would be that, in less than forty years, Russia
would become, by this husbanding of her resources, the most
powerful nation on the eastern continent, and able to carry out
any just policy which she might desire. I might have added that
one advantage of such a reduction would certainly be less
inclination by the war party at St. Petersburg to plunge into
military adventures. (Had Russia thus reduced her army she would
never have sunk into the condition in which she finds herself now
(1905), as I revise these lines. Instead of sending Alexeieff to
make war, she would have allowed De Witte to make peace--peace on
a basis of justice to Japan, and a winter access to the Pacific,
under proper safeguards, for herself.)

Raffalovitch seemed to acquiesce fully in my view, except as to
the number of soldiers to be released, saying that fifty or sixty
thousand would do perfectly well as showing that Russia is in
earnest.

He is one of the younger men of Russia, but has very decided
ability, and this he has shown not only in his secretaryship of
the conference, but in several of his works on financial and
other public questions published in Paris, which have secured for
him a corresponding membership of the French Institute.

It is absolutely clear in my mind that, if anything is to be done
toward disarmament, a practical beginning must be made by the
Czar; but the unfortunate thing is that with, no doubt, fairly
good intentions, he is weak and ill informed. The dreadful
mistake he is making in violating the oath sworn by his
predecessors and himself to Finland is the result of this
weakness and ignorance; and should he attempt to diminish his
overgrown army he would, in all probability, be overborne by the
military people about him, and by petty difficulties which they
would suggest, or, if necessary, create. It must be confessed
that there is one danger in any attempted disarmament, and this
is that the military clique might, to prevent it, plunge the
empire into a war.

The Emperor is surrounded mainly by inferior men. Under the shade
of autocracy men of independent strength rarely flourish. Indeed,
I find that the opinion regarding Russian statesmen which I
formed in Russia is confirmed by old diplomatists, of the best
judgment, whom I meet here. One of them said to me the other day:
"There is no greater twaddle than all the talk about far-seeing
purposes and measures by Russian statesmen. They are generally
weak, influenced by minor, and especially by personal,
considerations, and inferior to most men in similar positions in
the other great governments of Europe. The chancellor, Prince
Gortchakoff, of whom so much has been said, was a weak, vain man,
whom Bismarck found it generally very easy to deal with."

As to my own experience, I think many of those whom I saw were
far from the best of their kind with whom I have had to do. I
have never imagined a human being in the position of minister of
the interior of a great nation so utterly futile as the person
who held that place at St. Petersburg in my time; and the same
may be said of several others whom I met there in high places.
There are a few strong men, and, unfortunately, Pobedonostzeff is
one of them. Luckily, De Witte, the minister of finance, is
another.

July 10.

The evil which I dreaded, as regards the formation of public
opinion in relation to the work of our conference, is becoming
realized. The London "Spectator," just received, contains a most
disheartening article, "The Peace Conference a Failure," with an
additional article, more fully developed, to the same effect.
Nothing could be more unjust; but, on account of the
"Spectator's" "moderation," it will greatly influence public
opinion, and doubtless prevent, to some extent, the calling of
future conferences needed to develop the good work done in this.
Fortunately the correspondent of the "Times" gives a better
example, and shows, in his excellent letters, what has been
accomplished here. The "New York Herald," also, is thus far
taking the right view, and maintaining it with some earnestness.


July 17.

This morning, at ten, to the "House in the Wood" to hear Mr. van
Karnebeek's report on disarmament, checking invention, etc.,
before the session of committee No. 1. It was strongly attacked,
and was left in shreds: the whole subject is evidently too
immature and complicated to be dealt with during the present
conference.

In the afternoon came up an especially interesting matter in the
session of the arbitration committee, the occasion being a report
of the subcommittee. Among the points which most interested us as
Americans was a provision for an appeal from the decision of the
arbitration tribunal on the discovery of new facts.

De Martens of Russia spoke with great force against such right of
appeal, and others took ground with him. Holls really
distinguished himself by a telling speech on the other
side--which is the American side, that feature having been
present in our original instructions; Messrs. Asser and Karnebeek
both spoke for it effectively, and the final decision was
virtually in our favor, for Mr. Asser's compromise was adopted,
which really gives us the case.

The Siamese representatives requested that the time during which
an appeal might be allowed should be six instead of three months,
which we had named; but it was finally made a matter of
adjustment between the parties.


July 18.

The American delegation met at ten, when a cable message from the
State Department was read authorizing us to sign the protocol.


July 19.

Field day in the arbitration committee. A decided sensation was
produced by vigorous speeches by my Berlin colleague, Beldiman,
of the Roumanian delegation, and by Servian, Greek, and other
delegates, against the provision for commissions d'enquete,--De
Martens, Descamps, and others making vigorous speeches in behalf
of them. It looked as if the Balkan states were likely to
withdraw from the conference if the commission d'enquete feature
was insisted upon: they are evidently afraid that such "examining
commissions" may be sent within their boundaries by some of their
big neighbors--Russia, for example--to spy out the land and start
intrigues. The whole matter was put over.

In the evening to Count Munster's dinner at Scheveningen, and had
a very interesting talk on conference matters with Sir Julian
Pauncefote, finding that in most things we shall be able to stand
together as the crisis approaches.


July 20.

For several days past I have been preparing a possible speech to
be made in signing the protocol, etc., which, if not used for
that purpose, may be published, and, perhaps, aid in keeping
public opinion in the right line as regards the work of the
conference after it has closed.

In the afternoon to the "House in the Wood," the committee on
arbitration meeting again. More speeches were made by the
Bulgarians and Servians, who are still up in arms, fearing that
the commissione d'enquete means intervention by the great states
in their affairs. Speeches to allay their fears were made by
Count Nigra, Dr. Zorn, Holls, and Leon Bourgeois. Zorn spoke in
German with excellent effect, as did Holls in English; Nigra was
really impressive; and Bourgeois, from the chair, gave us a
specimen of first-rate French oratory. He made a most earnest
appeal to the delegates of the Balkan states, showing them that
by such a system of arbitration as is now proposed the lesser
powers would be the very first to profit, and he appealed to
their loyalty to humanity. The speech was greatly and justly
applauded.

The Balkan delegates are gradually and gracefully yielding.


July 21.

In the morning to the "House in the Wood," where a plenary
session of the conference was held. It was a field day on
explosive, flattening and expanding bullets, etc. Our Captain
Crozier, who evidently knows more about the subject than anybody
else here, urged a declaration of the principle that balls should
be not more deadly or cruel than is absolutely necessary to put
soldiers hors de combat; but the committee had reported a
resolution which, Crozier insists, opens the door to worse
missiles than those at present used. Many and earnest speeches
were made. I made a short speech, moving to refer the matter back
to the committee, with instructions to harmonize and combine the
two ideas in one article--that is, the idea which the article now
expresses, and Crozier's idea of stating the general principle to
which the bullets should conform--namely, that of not making a
wound more cruel than necessary; but the amendment was lost.

July 22.

Sir Julian Pauncefote called to discuss with us the signing of
the Acte Final. There seems to be general doubt as to what is the
best manner of signing the conventions, declarations, etc., and
all remains in the air.

In the morning the American delegation met and Captain Mahan
threw in a bomb regarding article 27, which requires that when
any two parties to the conference are drifting into war, the
other powers should consider it a duty (devoir) to remind them of
the arbitration tribunal, etc. He thinks that this infringes the
American doctrine of not entangling ourselves in the affairs of
foreign states, and will prevent the ratification of the
convention by the United States Senate. This aroused earnest
debate, Captain Mahan insisting upon the omission of the word
"devoir," and Dr. Holls defending the article as reported by the
subcommittee, of which he is a member, and contending that the
peculiar interests of America could be protected by a
reservation. Finally, the delegation voted to insist upon the
insertion of the qualifying words, "autant que les circonstances
permettent," but this decision was afterward abandoned.


July 23.

Met at our Minister Newel's supper Sir Henry Howard, who told me
that the present Dutch ministry, with Piersoon at its head and De
Beaufort as minister of foreign affairs, is in a very bad way;
that its "subserviency to Italy," in opposition to the demands of
the Vatican for admittance into the conference, and its
difficulties with the socialists and others, arising from the
police measures taken against Armenian, Finnish, New Turkish, and
other orators who have wished to come here and make the
conference and the city a bear-garden, have led both the extreme
parties--that is, the solid Roman Catholic party on one side, and
the pretended votaries of liberty on the other--to hate the
ministry equally. He thinks that they will join hands and oust
the ministry just as soon as the conference is over.

Some allowance is to be made for the fact that Sir Henry is a
Roman Catholic: while generally liberal, he evidently looks at
many questions from the point of view of his church.[9]


[9] As it turned out, he was right: the ministry was ousted, but
not so soon as he expected, for the catastrophe did not arrive
until about two years later. Then came in a coalition of high
Calvinists and Roman Catholics which brought in the Kuyper
ministry.


July 24.

For some days--in fact, ever since Captain Mahan on the 22d
called attention to article 27 of the arbitration convention as
likely to be considered an infringement of the Monroe
Doctrine--our American delegation has been greatly perplexed. We
have been trying to induce the French, who proposed article 27,
and who are as much attached to it as is a hen to her one chick,
to give it up, or, at least, to allow a limiting or explanatory
clause to be placed with it. Various clauses of this sort have
been proposed. The article itself makes it the duty of the other
signatory powers, when any two nations are evidently drifting
toward war, to remind these two nations that the arbitration
tribunal is open to them. Nothing can be more simple and natural;
but we fear lest, when the convention comes up for ratification
in the United States Senate, some over-sensitive patriot may seek
to defeat it by insisting that it is really a violation of
time-honored American policy at home and abroad--the policy of
not entangling ourselves in the affairs of foreign nations, on
one side, and of not allowing them to interfere in our affairs,
on the other.

At twelve this day our delegation gave a large luncheon at the
Oude Doelen--among those present being Ambassadors De Staal,
Count Nigra, and Sir Julian Pauncefote, Bourgeois, Karnebeek,
Basily, Baron d'Estournelles, Baron de Bildt, and others--to
discuss means of getting out of the above-mentioned difficulty. A
most earnest effort was made to induce the French to allow some
such modification as has been put into other articles--namely,
the words, "autant que possible," or some limiting clause to the
same effect; but neither Bourgeois nor D'Estournelles,
representing France, would think of it for a moment. Bourgeois,
as the head of the French delegation, spoke again and again, at
great length. Among other things, he gave us a very long
disquisition on the meaning of "devoir" as it stands in the
article--a disquisition which showed that the Jesuits are not the
only skilful casuists in the world.

I then presented my project of a declaration of the American
doctrine to be made by us on signing. It had been scratched off
with a pencil in the morning, hastily; but it was well received
by Bourgeois, D'Estournelles, and all the others.

Later we held a meeting of our own delegation, when, to my
project of a declaration stating that nothing contained in any
part of the convention signed here should be considered as
requiring us to intrude, mingle, or entangle ourselves in
European politics or internal affairs, Low made an excellent
addition to the effect that nothing should be considered to
require any abandonment of the traditional attitude of the United
States toward questions purely American; and, with slight verbal
changes, this combination was adopted.


July 25.

All night long I have been tossing about in my bed and thinking
of our declaration of the Monroe Doctrine to be brought before
the conference to-day. We all fear that the conference will not
receive it, or will insist on our signing without it or not
signing at all.

On my way to The Hague from Scheveningen I met M. Descamps, the
eminent professor of international law in the University of
Louvain, and the leading delegate in the conference as regards
intricate legal questions connected with the arbitration plan. He
thought that our best way out of the difficulty was absolutely to
insist on a clause limiting the devoir imposed by article 27, and
to force it to a vote. He declared that, in spite of the French,
it would certainly be carried. This I doubt. M. Descamps knows,
perhaps, more of international law than of the temper of his
associates.

In the afternoon to the "House in the Wood," where the "Final
Act" was read. This is a statement of what has been done, summed
up in the form of three conventions, with sundry declarations,
voeux, etc. We had taken pains to see a number of the leading
delegates, and all, in their anxiety to save the main features of
the arbitration plan, agreed that they would not oppose our
declaration. It was therefore placed in the hands of
Raffalovitch, the Russian secretary, who stood close beside the
president, and as soon as the "Final Act" had been recited he
read this declaration of ours. This was then brought before the
conference in plenary session by M. de Staal, and the conference
was asked whether any one had any objection, or anything to say
regarding it. There was a pause of about a minute, which seemed
to me about an hour. Not a word was said,--in fact, there was
dead silence,--and so our declaration embodying a reservation in
favor of the Monroe Doctrine was duly recorded and became part of
the proceedings.

Rarely in my life have I had such a feeling of deep relief; for,
during some days past, it has looked as if the arbitration
project, so far as the United States is concerned, would be
wrecked on that wretched little article 27.

I had before me notes of a speech carefully prepared, stating our
reasons and replying to objections, to be used in case we were
attacked, but it was not needed. In the evening I was asked by
Mr. Lavino, the correspondent of the London "Times," to put the
gist of it into an "interview" for the great newspaper which he
serves, and to this I consented; for, during the proceedings this
afternoon in the conference, Sir Julian Pauncefote showed great
uneasiness. He was very anxious that we should withdraw the
declaration altogether, and said, "It will be charged against you
that you propose to evade your duties while using the treaty to
promote your interests"; but I held firm and pressed the matter,
with the result above stated. I feared that he would object in
open conference; but his loyalty to arbitration evidently
deterred him. However, he returned to the charge privately, and I
then promised to make a public statement of our reasons for the
declaration, and this seemed to ease his mind. The result was a
recasting of my proposed speech, and this Mr. Lavino threw into
the form of a long telegram to the "Times."


July 26.

At ten to a meeting of our American delegation, when another
bombshell was thrown among us--nothing less than the question
whether the Pope is to be allowed to become one of the signatory
powers; and this question has now taken a very acute form. Italy
is, of course, utterly opposed to it, and Great Britain will not
sign if any besides those agreed upon by the signatory powers are
allowed to come in hereafter, her motive being, no doubt, to
avoid trouble in regard to the Transvaal.

Mr. Low stated that in the great committee the prevailing opinion
seemed to be that the signatory powers had made a sort of
partnership, and that no new partners could be added without the
consent of all. This is the natural ground, and entirely tenable.

I would have been glad to add the additional requirement that no
power should be admitted which would not make arbitration
reciprocal--that is, no power which, while aiding to arbitrate
for others, would not accept arbitration between itself and
another power. This would, of course, exclude the Vatican; for,
while it desires to judge others, it will allow no interests of
its own, not even the most worldly and trivial, to be submitted
to any earthly tribunal.

The question now came up in our American delegation as to signing
the three conventions in the Acte Final--namely, those relating
to arbitration, to the extension of the Geneva rules, and to the
laws and customs of war. We voted to sign the first, to send the
second to Washington without recommendation, and to send the
third with a recommendation that it be there signed. The reason
for sending the second to Washington without recommendation is
that Captain Mahan feels that, in its present condition, it may
bring on worse evils than it prevents. He especially and, I
think, justly objects to allowing neutral hospital ships to take
on board the wounded and shipwrecked in a naval action, with
power to throw around them the safeguards of neutrality and carry
them off to a neutral port whence they can again regain their own
homes and resume their status as combatants.

The reason for submitting the third to Washington, with a
recommendation to sign it there, is that considerable work will
be required in conforming our laws of war to the standard
proposed by the conference, and that it is best that the
Washington authorities look it over carefully.

I was very anxious to sign all three conventions, but the first
is the great one, and I yielded my views on the last two.

The powers are to have until the 31st of December, if they wish
it, before signing.


July 27.

Early in the morning to a meeting of our American delegation, Mr.
van Karnebeek being present. We agreed to sign the arbitration
convention, attaching to our signatures a reservation embodying
our declaration of July 25 regarding the maintenance of our
American policy--the Monroe Doctrine. A telegram was received
from the State Department approving of this declaration. The
imbroglio regarding the forcing of the Pope into the midst of the
signatory powers continues. The ultramontanes are pushing on
various delegates, especially sundry Austrians and Belgians, who
depend on clerical support for their political existence, and, in
some cases, for their daily bread; and the result is that M.
Descamps, one of the most eminent international lawyers in
Europe, who has rendered great services during the conference,
but who holds a professorship at the University of Louvain, and
can hold it not one moment longer than the Jesuits allow him, is
making a great display of feeling on the subject. Italy, of
course, continues to take the strongest ground against the
proposal to admit his Holiness as an Italian sovereign.

Our position is, as was well stated in the great committee by Mr.
Low, that the contracting parties must all consent before a new
party can come in; and this under one of the simplest principles
of law. We ought also to add that any power thus admitted shall
not only consent to arbitrate on others, but to be arbitrated
upon. This, of course, the Vatican monsignori will never do. They
would see all Europe deluged in blood before they would submit
the pettiest question between the kingdom of Italy and themselves
to arbitration by lay powers. All other things are held by them
utterly subordinate to the restoration of the Pope's temporal
power, though they must know that if it were restored to him
to-morrow he could not hold it. He would be overthrown by a
revolution within a month, even with all the troops which France
or Austria could send to support him; and then we should have the
old miserable state of things again in Italy, with bloodshed,
oppression, and exactions such as took place throughout the first
half of this century, and, indeed, while I was in Italy, under
the old papal authority, in 1856.

In the afternoon to the "House in the Wood" to go over documents
preliminary to signing the "Final Act."


July 28.

In the afternoon in plenary session of the conference, hearing
the final reports as to forms of signing, etc.

To-day appears in the London "Times" the interview which its
correspondent had with me yesterday. It develops the reasons for
our declaration, and seems to give general satisfaction. Sir
Julian Pauncefote told Holls that he liked it much.

The committee on forms of the "Final Act," etc., has at last,
under pressure of all sorts, agreed that the question of
admitting non-signatory powers shall be decided by the signatory
powers, hereafter, through the ordinary medium of diplomatic
correspondence. This is unfortunate for some of the South
American republics, but it will probably in some way inure to the
benefit of the Vatican monsignori.


July 29.

The last and culminating day of the conference.

In the morning the entire body gathered in the great hall of the
"House in the Wood," and each delegation was summoned thence to
sign the protocol, conventions, and declarations. These were laid
out on a long table in the dining-room of the palace, which is
adorned with very remarkable paintings of mythological subjects
imitating bas-reliefs.

All these documents had the places for each signature prepared
beforehand, and our seals, in wax, already placed upon the pages
adjoining the place where each signature was to be. At the
request of the Foreign Office authorities for my seal, I had sent
a day or two beforehand the seal ring which Goldwin Smith gave me
at the founding of Cornell University. It is an ancient carnelian
intaglio which he obtained in Rome, and bears upon its face,
exquisitely engraved, a Winged Victory. This seal I used during
my entire connection with Cornell University, and also as a
member of the Electoral College of the State of New York at
General Grant's second election, when, at the request of the
president of that body, Governor Woodford, it was used in sealing
certificates of the election, which were sent, according to law,
to certain high officials of our government.

I affixed my signature to the arbitration convention, writing in,
as agreed, the proviso that our signatures were subject to the
Monroe Doctrine declaration made in open session of the
conference on July 25. The other members of the American
delegation then signed in proper order. But the two other
conventions we left unsigned. It was with deep regret that I
turned away from these; but the majority of the delegation had
decreed it, and it was difficult to see what other course we
could pursue. I trust that the Washington authorities will
rectify the matter by signing them both.

We also affixed our signatures to the first of the
"declarations."

At three P.M. came the formal closing of the conference. M. de
Staal made an excellent speech, as did Mr. van Karnebeek and M.
de Beaufort, the Netherlands minister of foreign affairs. To
these Count Munster, the presiding delegate from Germany, replied
in French, and apparently extemporaneously. It must have been
pain and grief to him, for he was obliged to speak respectfully,
in the first place, of the conference, which for some weeks he
had affected to despise; and, secondly, of arbitration and the
other measures proposed, which, at least during all the first
part of the conference, he had denounced as a trick and a humbug;
and, finally, he had to speak respectfully of M. de Staal, to
whom he has steadily shown decided dislike. He did the whole
quite well, all things considered; but showed his feelings
clearly, as regarded M. de Staal, by adding to praise of him
greater praise for Mr. van Karnebeek, who has been the main
managing man in the conference in behalf of the Netherlands
Government.

Then to the hotel and began work on the draft of a report,
regarding the whole work of the conference, to the State
Department. I was especially embarrassed by the fact that the
wording of it must be suited to the scruples of my colleague,
Captain Mahan. He is a man of the highest character and of great
ability, whom I respect and greatly like; but, as an old naval
officer, wedded to the views generally entertained by older
members of the naval and military service, he has had very
little, if any, sympathy with the main purposes of the
conference, and has not hesitated to declare his disbelief in
some of the measures which we were especially instructed to
press. In his books he is on record against the immunity of
private property at sea, and in drawing up our memorial to the
conference regarding this latter matter, in making my speech with
reference to it in the conference, and in preparing our report to
the State Department, I have been embarrassed by this fact. It
was important to have unanimity, and it could not be had, so far
as he was concerned, without toning down the whole thing, and,
indeed, leaving out much that in my judgment the documents
emanating from us on the subject ought to contain. So now, in
regard to arbitration, as well as the other measures finally
adopted, his feelings must be considered. Still, his views have
been an excellent tonic; they have effectively prevented any
lapse into sentimentality. When he speaks the millennium fades
and this stern, severe, actual world appears.

I worked until late at night, and then went to Scheveningen
almost in despair.


July 30.

Returned to The Hague early in the morning, and went on again
with the report, working steadily through the day upon it. For
the first time in my life I have thus made Sunday a day of work.
Although I have no conscientious scruples on the subject, it was
bred into me in my childhood and boyhood that Sunday should be
kept free from all manner of work; and so thoroughly was this
rule inculcated that I have borne it in mind ever since, often
resisting very pressing temptation to depart from it.

But to-day there was no alternative, and the whole time until
five o'clock in the afternoon was given to getting my draft
ready.

At five P.M. the American delegation came together, and, to my
surprise, received my report with every appearance of
satisfaction. Mr. Low indicated some places which, in his
opinion, needed modification; and to this I heartily agreed, for
they were generally places where I was myself in doubt.

My draft having thus been presented, I turned it over to Mr. Low,
who agreed to bring it to-morrow morning with such modifications,
omissions, and additions as seemed best to him. The old proverb,
"'T is always darkest just before daylight," seems exemplified
in the affairs of to-day, since the kind reception given to my
draft of the report, and the satisfaction expressed regarding it,
form a most happy and unexpected sequel to my wretched distrust
regarding the whole matter last night.


July 31.

The American delegation met at eleven in the morning and
discussed my draft. Mr. Low's modifications and additions were
not many and were mainly good. But he omitted some things which I
would have preferred to retain: these being in the nature of a
plea in behalf of arbitration, or, rather, an exhibition of the
advantages which have been secured for it by the conference; but,
between his doubts and Captain Mahan's opposition, I did not care
to contest the matter, and several pages were left out.

At six in the afternoon came the last meeting of our delegation.
The reports, duly engrossed,--namely, the special reports, signed
by Captain Mahan and Captain Crozier, from the first and second
committees of the conference; the special report made by myself,
Mr. Low, and Dr. Holls as members of the third committee; and the
general report covering our whole work, drawn almost entirely by
me, but signed by all the members of the commission,--were
presented, re-read, and signed, after which the delegation
adjourned, sine die.


August 1.

After some little preliminary work on matters connected with the
winding up of our commission, went with my private secretary, Mr.
Vickery, to Amsterdam, visiting the old church, the palace, the
Zoological Gardens, etc. Thence to Gouda and saw the
stained-glass windows in the old church there, which I have so
long desired to study.


August 3.

At 8.30 left The Hague and went by rail, via Cologne and
Ehrenbreitstein, to Homburg, arriving in the evening.


August 5.

This morning resumed my duties as ambassador at Berlin.

There was one proceeding at the final meeting of the conference
which I have omitted, but which really ought to find a place in
this diary. Just before the final speeches, to the amazement of
all and almost to the stupefaction of many, the president, M. de
Staal, handed to the secretary, without comment, a paper which
the latter began to read. It turned out to be a correspondence
which had taken place, just before the conference, between the
Queen of the Netherlands and the Pope.

The Queen's letter--written, of course, by her ministers, in the
desire to placate the Catholic party, which holds the balance of
power in the Netherlands--dwelt most respectfully on the high
functions of his Holiness, etc., etc., indicating, if not saying,
that it was not the fault of her government that he was not
invited to join in the conference.

The answer from the Pope was a masterpiece of Vatican skill. In
it he referred to what he claimed was his natural position as a
peacemaker on earth, dwelling strongly on this point.

The reading of these papers was received in silence, and not a
word was publicly said afterward regarding them, though in
various quarters there was very deep feeling. It was felt that
the Dutch Government had taken this means of forestalling local
Dutch opposition, and that it was a purely local matter of
political partizanship that ought never to have been intruded
upon a conference of the whole world.

I had no feeling of this sort, for it seemed to me well enough
that the facts should be presented; but a leading representative
of one of the great Catholic powers, who drove home with us, was
of a different mind. This eminent diplomatist from one of the
strongest Catholic countries, and himself a Catholic, spoke in
substance as follows: "The Vatican has always been, and is
to-day, a storm-center. The Pope and his advisers have never
hesitated to urge on war, no matter how bloody, when the
slightest of their ordinary worldly purposes could be served by
it. The great religious wars of Europe were entirely stirred up
and egged on by them; and, as everybody knows, the Pope did
everything to prevent the signing of the treaty of Munster, which
put an end to the dreadful Thirty Years' War, even going so far
as to declare the oaths taken by the plenipotentiaries at that
congress of no effect.

"All through the middle ages and at the Renaissance period the
Popes kept Italy in turmoil and bloodshed for their own family
and territorial advantages, and they kept all Europe in turmoil,
for two centuries after the Reformation,--in fact, just as long
as they could,--in the wars of religion. They did everything they
could to stir up the war between Austria and Prussia in 1866,
thinking that Austria, a Catholic power, was sure to win; and
then everything possible to stir up the war of France against
Prussia in 1870 in order to accomplish the same purpose of
checking German Protestantism; and now they are doing all they
can to arouse hatred, even to deluge Italy in blood, in the vain
attempt to recover the temporal power, though they must know that
they could not hold it for any length of time even if they should
obtain it.

"They pretend to be anxious to 'save souls,' and especially to
love Poland and Ireland; but they have for years used those
countries as mere pawns in their game with Russia and Great
Britain, and would sell every Catholic soul they contain to the
Greek and English churches if they could thereby secure the
active aid of those two governments against Italy. They have
obliged the Italian youth to choose between patriotism and
Christianity, and the result is that the best of these have
become atheists. Their whole policy is based on stirring up
hatred and promoting conflicts from which they hope to draw
worldly advantage.

"In view of all this, one stands amazed at the cool statements of
the Vatican letter."

These were the words of an eminent Roman Catholic representative
of a Roman Catholic power, and to them I have nothing to add.

In looking back calmly over the proceedings of the conference, I
feel absolutely convinced that it has accomplished a great work
for the world.

The mere assembling of such a body for such a purpose was a
distinct gain; but vastly more important is the positive outcome
of its labors.

First of these is the plan of arbitration. It provides a court
definitely constituted; a place of meeting easily accessible; a
council for summoning it always in session; guarantees for
perfect independence; and a suitable procedure.

Closely connected with this is the provision for "international
commissions of inquiry," which cannot fail to do much in clearing
up issues likely to lead to war between nations. Thus we may
hope, when there is danger of war, for something better than that
which the world has hitherto heard--the clamor of interested
parties and the shrieks of sensation newspapers. The natural
result will be, as in the Venezuelan difficulty between the
United States and Great Britain, that when a commission of this
sort has been set at work to ascertain the facts, the howling of
partizans and screaming of sensation-mongers will cease, and the
finding of the commission be calmly awaited.

So, too, the plans adopted for mediation can hardly fail to aid
in keeping off war. The plans for "special mediation" and
"seconding powers," which emanated entirely from the American
delegation, and which were adopted unanimously by the great
committee and by the conference, seem likely to prove in some
cases an effective means of preventing hostilities, and even of
arresting them after they have begun. Had it been in operation
during our recent war with Spain, it would probably have closed
it immediately after the loss of Cervera's fleet, and would have
saved many lives and much treasure.

Secondly, the extension of the Geneva rules, hitherto adopted for
war on land, to war also on the sea is a distinct gain in the
cause of mercy.

Thirdly, the amelioration and more careful definition of the laws
of war must aid powerfully in that evolution of mercy and right
reason which has been going on for hundreds of years, and
especially since the great work of Grotius.

In addition to these gains may well be mentioned the
declarations, expressions of opinion, and utterance of wishes for
continued study and persevering effort to make the
instrumentalities of war less cruel and destructive.

It has been said not infrequently that the conference missed a
great opportunity when it made the resort to arbitration
voluntary and not obligatory. Such an objection can come only
from those who have never duly considered the problem concerned.
Obligatory arbitration between states is indeed possible in
various petty matters, but in many great matters absolutely
impossible. While a few nations were willing to accept it in
regard to these minor matters,--as, for example, postal or
monetary difficulties and the like,--not a single power was
willing to bind itself by a hard-and-fast rule to submit all
questions to it--and least of all the United States.

The reason is very simple: to do so would be to increase the
chances of war and to enlarge standing armies throughout the
world. Obligatory arbitration on all questions would enable any
power, at any moment, to bring before the tribunal any other
power against which it has, or thinks it has, a grievance. Greece
might thus summon Turkey; France might summon Germany; the
Papacy, Italy; England, Russia; China, Japan; Spain, the United
States, regarding matters in which the deepest of human
feelings--questions of religion, questions of race, questions
even of national existence--are concerned. To enforce the
decisions of a tribunal in such cases would require armies
compared to which those of the present day are a mere bagatelle,
and plunge the world into a sea of troubles compared to which
those now existing are as nothing. What has been done is to
provide a way, always ready and easily accessible, by which
nations can settle most of their difficulties with each other.
Hitherto, securing a court of arbitration has involved first the
education of public opinion in two nations; next, the action of
two national legislatures; then the making of a treaty; then the
careful selection of judges on both sides; then delays by the
jurists thus chosen in disposing of engagements and duties to
which they are already pledged--all these matters requiring much
labor and long time; and this just when speedy action is most
necessary to arrest the development of international anger. Under
the system of arbitration now presented, the court can be brought
into session at short notice--easily, as regards most nations,
within a few weeks, at the farthest. When to these advantages are
added the provisions for delaying war and for improving the laws
of war, the calm judgment of mankind will, I fully believe,
decide that the conference has done a work of value to the world.

There is also another gain--incidental, but of real and permanent
value; and this is the inevitable development of the Law of
Nations by the decisions of such a court of arbitration composed
of the most eminent jurists from all countries. Thus far it has
been evolved from the writings of scholars often conflicting,
from the decisions of national courts biased by local patriotism,
from the practices of various powers, on land and sea, more in
obedience to their interests than to their sense of justice; but
now we may hope for the growth of a great body of international
law under the best conditions possible, and ever more and more in
obedience to the great impulse given by Grotius in the direction
of right reason and mercy.



CHAPTER L

HINTS FOR REFORMS IN THE DIPLOMATIC SERVICE

In view of a connection with the diplomatic service of the United
States begun nearly fifty years ago and resumed at various posts
and periods since, I have frequently been asked for my opinion of
it, as compared with that of other nations, and also what
measures I would suggest for its improvement. Hitherto this
question has somewhat embarrassed me: answering it fully might
have seemed to involve a plea for my own interests; so that,
while I have pointed out, in public lectures and in letters to
men of influence, sundry improvements, I have not hitherto
thought it best to go fully into the subject.

But what I now say will not see the light until my diplomatic
career is finished forever, and I may claim to speak now for what
seems to me the good of the service and of the country. I shall
make neither personal complaint of the past nor personal plea for
the future. As to the past, my experience showed me years ago
what I had to expect if I continued in the service--insufficient
salary, unfit quarters, inadequate means of discharging my
duties, and many other difficulties which ought not to have
existed, but which I knew to exist when I took office, and of
which I have therefore no right to complain. As to the future, I
can speak all the more clearly and earnestly because even my
enemies, if I have any, must confess that nothing which is now to
be done can inure to my personal benefit.

As to the present condition, then, of our diplomatic service, it
seems to me a mixture of good and evil. It is by no means so bad
as it once was, and by no means so good as it ought to be and as
it could very easily be made. There has been great improvement in
it since the days of the Civil War. The diplomatic service of no
other country, probably, was so disfigured by eminently unworthy
members as was our own during the quarter of a century preceding
the inauguration of President Lincoln, and, indeed, during a part
of the Lincoln administration itself.

During one presidential term previous to that time our ministers
at three of the most important centers of Europe were making
unedifying spectacles of themselves, whenever it was possible for
them to do so, before the courts to which they were accredited.
On one occasion of court festivity, one of them, in a gorgeous
uniform such as American ministers formerly wore, ran howling
through the mud in the streets of St. Petersburg, the high
personages of the empire looking out upon him from the windows of
the Winter Palace. Sundry other performances of his, to which I
have referred in the account of my Russian mission, were quite as
discreditable.

Another American representative, stationed at Berlin during that
same period, disgraced his country by notorious drunkenness; and
though some of our countrymen at that capital sought to keep him
sober for his first presentation to the King, they were
unsuccessful. Happily, his wild conduct did not culminate abroad;
for a murder which he committed in a drunken fit did not occur
until after his return to our country. A third American
representative at that period published regularly, in his home
newspaper, such scurrilous letters regarding the authorities of
the country to which he was accredited, his colleagues in the
diplomatic service, and, indeed, the country itself, that,
according to common report, his early return home was caused by
his desire to escape the consequences. These were the worst, but
there were others utterly unfit,--men who not only spoke no other
language used in diplomatic intercourse, but could not even speak
with fairly grammatical decency their own. As to the early days
of Mr. Lincoln's administration, there is a well-authenticated
story that, a gentleman having expostulated with the Secretary of
State, Mr. Seward, for sending to a very important diplomatic
post a man whose conduct was the reverse of exemplary, Mr. Seward
replied, "Sir, some persons are sent abroad because they are
needed abroad, and some are sent because they are NOT wanted at
home."

It is a great pleasure to note that since the war both of the
political parties have greatly improved in this respect, and that
the standard of diplomatic appointments has become much higher.
It is a duty as well as a pleasure to acknowledge here that no
President of the United States has ever taken more pains to make
the diplomatic and consular services what they should be than a
representative of the party to which I have always been
opposed--President Cleveland. Especially encouraging is the fact
that public opinion has become sensitive on this subject, and
that the only recent case of gross misconduct by an American
minister in foreign parts was immediately followed by his recall.

And it ought also to be said, even regarding our diplomatic
system in the past, that sundry sneers of the pessimists do our
country wrong. It is certain that no other country has been
steadily represented in Great Britain by a series of more
distinguished citizens than has our own,--beginning with John
Adams, and including the gentleman who at present holds the
position of ambassador to the Court of St. James. Much may also
be said to the credit of our embassies and legations generally at
the leading capitals of Europe. As to unfortunate exceptions,
those who are acquainted with diplomatists in different parts of
the world know that, whatever may have been the failings of the
United States in this respect, she has not been the only nation
which has made mistakes in selecting foreign representatives.

Our service at the present day is, in some respects, excellent;
but it is badly organized, insufficiently provided for, and, as a
rule, has not the standing which every patriotic American should
wish for it.

I have frequently received letters from bright, active-minded
young men stating that they were desirous of fitting themselves
for a diplomatic career, and asking advice regarding the best way
of doing so; but I have felt obliged to warn every one of them
that, strictly speaking, there is no American diplomatic service;
that there is no guarantee of employment to them, even if they
fit themselves admirably; no security in their tenure of office,
even if they were appointed; and little, if any, probability of
their promotion, however excellent their record. Moreover, I have
felt obliged to tell them that the service, such as it is,
especially as regards ambassadors and ministers, is a service
with a property qualification; that it is not a democratic
service resting upon merit, but an aristocratic service resting
largely upon wealth,--a very important--indeed,
essential--qualification for it being that any American who
serves as ambassador must, as a rule, be able to expend, in
addition to his salary, at least from twelve to twenty thousand
dollars a year, and that the demands upon ministers
plenipotentiary are but little less.

And yet, if Congress would seriously give attention to the
matter, calling before a proper committee those of its own
members, and others, who are well acquainted with the necessities
of the service, and would take common-sense advice, it could
easily be made one of the best, and quite possibly the best, in
the world. The most essential and desirable improvements which I
would present are as follows:

I. As regards the first and highest grade in the diplomatic
service, that of ambassadors, I would have at least one half
their whole number appointed from those who have distinguished
themselves as ministers plenipotentiary, and the remaining posts
filled, as at present, from those who, in public life or in other
important fields, have won recognition at home as men fit to
maintain the character and represent the interests of their
country abroad.

II. As regards the second grade in the service,--namely, that of
ministers plenipotentiary,--I would observe the same rule as in
appointing ambassadors, having at least a majority of these at
the leading capitals appointed from such as shall have especially
distinguished themselves at the less important capitals, and a
majority of the ministers plenipotentiary at these less important
capitals appointed from those who shall have distinguished
themselves as ministers resident, or as secretaries of embassy or
of legation.

III. As to the third grade in our service, that of ministers
resident, I would observe the general rule above suggested for
the appointment of ambassadors and ministers plenipotentiary;
that is, I would appoint a majority of them from among those who
shall have rendered most distinguished service as first
secretaries of embassy or of legation. When once appointed I
would have them advanced, for distinguished service, from the
less to the more important capitals, and, so far as possible,
from the ranks of ministers resident to those of ministers
plenipotentiary.

IV. As to the lower or special or temporary grades, whether that
of diplomatic agent or special charge d'affaires or commissioner,
I would have appointments made from the diplomatic or consular
service, or from public life in general, or from fitting men in
private life, as the President or the Secretary of State might
think the most conducive to the public interest.

V. I would have two grades of secretaries of legation, and three
grades of secretaries of embassy. I would have the lowest grade
of secretaries appointed on the recommendation of the Secretary
of State from those who have shown themselves, on due
examination, best qualified in certain leading subjects, such as
international law, the common law, the civil law, the history of
treaties, and general modern history, political economy, a
speaking knowledge of French, and a reading knowledge of at least
one other foreign language. I would make the examination in all
the above subjects strict, and would oblige the Secretary of
State to make his selection of secretaries of legation from the
men thus presented. But, in view of the importance of various
personal qualifications which fit men to influence their
fellow-men, and which cannot be ascertained wholly by
examination, I would leave the Secretary of State full liberty of
choice among those who have honorably passed the examinations
above required. The men thus selected and approved I would have
appointed as secretaries of lower grades,--that is, third
secretaries of embassy and second secretaries of legation,--and
these, when once appointed, should be promoted, for good service,
to the higher secretaryships of embassy and legation, and from
the less to the more important capitals, under such rules as the
State Department might find most conducive to the efficiency of
the service. No secretaries of any grade should thereafter be
appointed who had not passed the examinations required for the
lowest grade of secretaries as above provided; but all who had
already been in the service during two years should be eligible
for promotion, without any further examination, from whatever
post they might be occupying.

VI. I would attach to every embassy three secretaries, to every
legation two, and to every post of minister resident at least
one.

One of the thoroughly wise arrangements of every British embassy
or legation--an arrangement which has gone for much in Great
Britain's remarkable series of diplomatic successes throughout
the world--is to be seen in her maintaining at every capital a
full number of secretaries and attaches, who serve not only in
keeping the current office work in the highest efficiency, but
who become, as it were, the ANTENNAE of the ambassador or
minister--additional eyes and ears to ascertain what is going on
among those most influential in public affairs. Every embassy or
legation thus equipped serves also as an actual and practical
training-school for the service.

VII. I would appoint each attache from the ranks of those
especially recommended, and certified to in writing by leading
authorities in the department to which he is expected to supply
information: as, for example, for military attaches, the War
Department; for naval attaches, the Navy Department; for
financial attaches, the Treasury Department; for commercial
attaches, the Department of Commerce; for agricultural attaches,
the Department of Agriculture; but always subject to the approval
of the Secretary of State as regards sundry qualifications hinted
at above, which can better be ascertained by an interview than by
an examination.

I would have a goodly number of attaches of these various sorts,
and, in our more important embassies, one representing each of
the departments above named. Every attache, if fit for his place,
would be worth far more than his cost to our government, for he
would not only add to the influence of the embassy or legation,
but decidedly to its efficiency. As a rule, all of them could
also be made of real use after the conclusion of their foreign
careers: some by returning to the army or navy and bringing their
knowledge to bear on those branches of the service; some by
taking duty in the various departments at Washington, and aiding
to keep our government abreast of the best practice in other
countries; some by becoming professors in universities and
colleges, and thus aiding to disseminate useful information; some
by becoming writers for the press, thus giving us, instead of
loose guesses and haphazard notions, information and suggestions
based upon close knowledge of important problems and of their
solution in countries other than our own.

From these arrangements I feel warranted in expecting a very
great improvement in our diplomatic service. Thus formed, it
would become, in its main features, like the military and naval
services, and, indeed, in its essential characteristics as to
appointment and promotion, like any well-organized manufacturing
or commercial establishment. It would absolutely require
ascertained knowledge and fitness in the lowest grades, and would
give promotion for good service from first to last. Yet it would
not be a cast-iron system: a certain number of men who had shown
decided fitness in various high public offices, or in important
branches of public or private business, could be appointed,
whenever the public interest should seem to require it, as
ministers resident, ministers plenipotentiary, and ambassadors,
without having gone through examination or regular promotion.

But the system now proposed, while thus allowing the frequent
bringing in of new and capable men from public life at home,
requires that a large proportion of each grade above that of
secretary, save a very small number of diplomatic agents,
commissioners, and the like, shall be appointed from those
thoroughly trained for the service, and that all secretaries,
without exception, shall be thoroughly trained and fitted. Scope
would thus be given to the activity of both sorts of men, and the
whole system made sufficiently elastic to meet all necessities.

In the service thus organized, the class of ambassadors and
ministers fitted by knowledge of public affairs at home for
important negotiations, but unacquainted with diplomatic life or
foreign usages and languages, would be greatly strengthened by
secretaries who had passed through a regular course of training
and experience. An American diplomatic representative without
diplomatic experience, on reaching his post, whether as
ambassador or minister, would not find--as was once largely the
case--secretaries as new as himself to diplomatic business, but
men thoroughly prepared to aid him in the multitude of minor
matters, ignorance of which might very likely cripple him as
regards very important business: secretaries so experienced as to
be able to set him in the way of knowing, at any court, who are
the men of real power, and who mere parasites and pretenders,
what relations are to be cultivated and what avoided, which are
the real channels of influence, and which mere illusions leading
nowhither. On the other hand, the secretaries thoroughly trained
would doubtless, in their conversation with a man fresh from
public affairs at home, learn many things of use to them.

Thus, too, what is of great importance throughout the entire
service, every ambassador, minister plenipotentiary, or minister
resident would possess, or easily command, large experience of
various men in various countries. At the same time, each would be
under most powerful incentives to perfect his training, widen his
acquaintance, and deepen his knowledge--incentives which, under
the old system,--which we may hope is now passing away,--with its
lack of appointment for ascertained fitness, lack of promotion
for good service, and lack of any certainty of tenure, do not
exist.

The system of promotion for merit throughout the service is no
mere experiment; the good sense of all the leading nations in the
world, except our own, has adopted it, and it works well. In our
own service the old system works badly; excellent men, both in
its higher and lower grades, have been frequently crippled by
want of proper experience or aid. We have, indeed, several
admirable secretaries--some of them fit to be ambassadors or
ministers, but all laboring under conditions the most depressing
--such as obtain in no good business enterprise. During my stay
as minister at St. Petersburg, the secretary of legation, a man
ideally fitted for the post, insisted on resigning. On my
endeavoring to retain him, he answered as follows: "I have been
over twelve years in the American diplomatic service as
secretary; I have seen the secretaries here, from all other
countries, steadily promoted until all of them still remaining in
the service are in higher posts, several of them ministers, and
some ambassadors. I remain as I was at the beginning, with no
promotion, and no probability of any. I feel that, as a rule, my
present colleagues, as well as most officials with whom I have to
do, seeing that I have not been advanced, look upon me as a
failure. They cannot be made to understand how a man who has
served so long as secretary has been denied promotion for any
reason save inefficiency. I can no longer submit to be thus
looked down upon, and I must resign."

While thus having a system of promotion based upon efficiency, I
would retain during good behavior, up to a certain age, the men
who have done thoroughly well in the service. Clearly, when we
secure an admirable man,--recognized as such in all parts of the
world,--like Mr. Wheaton, Mr. Bancroft, Mr. Charles Francis
Adams, Mr. Marsh, Mr. Townsend Harris, Mr. Washburne, Mr. Lowell,
Mr. Bayard, Mr. Phelps, and others who have now passed away, not
to speak of many now living, we should keep him at his post as
long as he is efficient, without regard to his politics. This is
the course taken very generally by other great nations, and
especially by our sister republic of Great Britain (for Great
Britain is simply a republic with a monarchical figurehead
lingering along on good behavior): she retains her
representatives in these positions, and promotes them without any
regard to their party relations. During my first official
residence at Berlin, although the home government at London was
of the Conservative party, it retained at the German capital, as
ambassador, Lord Ampthill, a Liberal; and, as first secretary,
Sir John Walsham, a Tory. From every point of view, the long
continuance in diplomatic positions of the most capable men would
be of great advantage to our country.

But, as the very first thing to be done, whether our diplomatic
service remains as at present or be improved, I would urge, as a
condition precedent to any thoroughly good service, that there be
in each of the greater capitals of the world at which we have a
representative, a suitable embassy or legation building or
apartment, owned or leased for a term of years by the American
Government Every other great power, and many of the smaller
nations, have provided such quarters for their representatives,
and some years ago President Cleveland recommended to Congress a
similar policy. Under the present system the head of an American
embassy or mission abroad is at a wretched disadvantage. In many
capitals he finds it at times impossible to secure a proper
furnished apartment; and, in some, very difficult to find any
suitable apartment at all, whether furnished or unfurnished. Even
if he finds proper rooms, they are frequently in an unfit quarter
of the town, remote from the residences of his colleagues, from
the public offices, from everybody and everything related to his
work. His term of office being generally short, he is usually
considered a rather undesirable tenant, and is charged
accordingly. Besides this, the fitting and furnishing of such an
apartment is a very great burden, both as regards trouble and
expense. I have twice thus fitted and furnished a large apartment
in Berlin, and in each case this represented an expenditure of
more than the salary for the first year. Within my own knowledge,
two American ministers abroad have impoverished their families by
expenditures of this kind. But this is not the worst. The most
serious result of the existing system concerns our country. I
have elsewhere shown how, in one very important international
question at St. Petersburg, our mistaken policy in this respect
once cost the United States a sum which would have forever put
that embassy, and, indeed, many others besides, on the very best
footing. If an American ambassador is to exercise a really strong
influence for the United States as against other nations he must
be properly provided for as regards his residence and
support,--not provided for, indeed, so largely as some
representatives of other nations; for I neither propose nor
desire that the American representative shall imitate the pomp of
certain ambassadors of the greater European powers. But he ought
to be enabled to live respectably, and to discharge his duties
efficiently. There should be, in this respect, what Thomas
Jefferson acknowledged in the Declaration of Independence as a
duty,--"a decent regard for the opinions of mankind." The present
condition of things is frequently humiliating. In the greater
capitals of Europe the general public know the British, French,
Austrian, Italian, and all other important embassies or
legations, except that of our country. The American embassy or
legation has no settled home, is sometimes in one quarter of the
town, sometimes in another, sometimes almost in an attic,
sometimes almost in a cellar, generally inadequate in its
accommodations, and frequently unfortunate in its surroundings.
Both my official terms at St. Petersburg showed me that one
secret of the great success of British diplomacy, in all parts of
the world, is that especial pains are taken regarding this point,
and that, consequently, every British embassy is the center of a
wide-spread social influence which counts for very much indeed in
her political influence. The United States, as perhaps the
wealthiest nation in existence,--a nation far-reaching in the
exercise of its foreign policy, with vast and increasing
commercial and other interests throughout the world,--should, in
all substantial matters, be equally well provided for. Take our
recent relations with Turkey. We have insisted on the payment of
an indemnity for the destruction of American property, and we
have constantly a vast number of Americans of the very best sort,
and especially our missionaries, who have to be protected
throughout the whole of that vast empire. Each of the other great
powers provides its representative at Constantinople with a
residence honorable, suitable, and within a proper inclosure for
its protection; but the American minister lives anywhere and
everywhere,--in such premises, over shops and warehouses, as can
be secured,--and he is liable, in case of trouble between the two
nations, to suffer personal violence and to have his house sacked
by a Turkish mob. No foreign people, and least of all an Oriental
people, can highly respect a diplomatic representative who, by
his surroundings, seems not to be respected by his own people.
The American Government can easily afford the expenditure needed
to provide proper houses or apartments for its entire diplomatic
corps, but it can hardly afford NOT to provide these. Full
provision for them would not burden any American citizen to the
amount of the half of a Boston biscuit. Leaving matters in their
present condition is, in the long run, far more costly. I once
had occasion to consider this matter in the light of economy, and
found that the cost of the whole diplomatic service of the United
States during an entire year was only equal to the expenditure in
one of our recent wars during four hours; so that if any member
of the diplomatic service should delay a declaration of war
merely for the space of a day, he would defray the cost of the
service for about six years.

Mr. Charles Francis Adams, by his admirable diplomatic dealing
with the British Foreign Office at the crisis of our Civil War,
prevented the coming out of the later Confederate cruisers to
prey upon our commerce, and, in all probability, thus averted a
quarrel with Great Britain which would have lengthened our Civil
War by many years, and doubtless have cost us hundreds of
millions.

General Woodford, our recent minister at Madrid, undoubtedly
delayed our war with Spain for several months, and skilful
diplomatic intervention brought that war to a speedy close just
as soon as our military and naval successes made it possible.

The cases are also many where our diplomatic representatives have
quieted ill feelings which would have done great harm to our
commerce. These facts show that the diplomatic service may well
be called "The Cheap Defense of Nations."

When, in addition to this, an American recalls such priceless
services to civilization, and to the commerce of our country and
of the world, as those rendered by Mr. Townsend Harris while
American minister in Japan, the undoubted saving through a long
series of years of many lives and much property by our ministers
in such outlying parts of the world as Turkey and China, the
promotion of American commercial and other interests, and the
securing of information which has been precious to innumerable
American enterprises, it seems incontestable that our diplomatic
service ought not to be left in its present slipshod condition.
It ought to be put on the best and most effective footing
possible, so that everywhere the men we send forth to support and
advance the manifold interests of our country shall be thoroughly
well equipped and provided for. To this end the permanent
possession of a suitable house or apartment in every capital is
the foremost and most elementary of necessities.

And while such a provision is the first thing, it would be wise
to add, as other nations do, a moderate allowance for furniture,
and for keeping the embassy or legation properly cared for during
the interim between the departure of one representative and the
arrival of another.

If this were done, the prestige of the American name and the
effectiveness of the service would be vastly improved, and
diplomatic posts would be no longer so onerous and, indeed,
ruinous as they have been to some of the best men we have sent
abroad.

And in order fully to free my mind I will add that, while the
provision for a proper embassy or legation building is the first
of all things necessary, it might also be well to increase
somewhat the salaries of our representatives abroad. These may
seem large even at present; but the cost of living has greatly
increased since they were fixed, and the special financial
demands upon an ambassador or minister at any of the most
important posts are always far beyond the present salary. It is
utterly impossible for an American diplomatic representative to
do his duty upon the salary now given, even while living on the
most moderate scale known in the diplomatic corps. To attempt to
do so would deprive him of all opportunity to exercise that
friendly, personal, social influence which is so important an
element in his success.

To sum up my suggestions as to this part of the subject, I should
say: First, that, as a rule, there should be provided at each
diplomatic post where the United States has a representative a
spacious and suitable house, either bought by our government or
taken on a long lease; and that there should be a small
appropriation each year for maintaining it as regards furniture,
care, etc. Secondly, that American representatives of the highest
grade--namely, ambassadors--should have a salary of at least
$25,000 a year; and that diplomatic representatives of lower
grade should have their salaries raised in the same proportion.
Thirdly, that an additional number of secretaries and attaches
should be provided in the manner and for the reasons above
recommended.

If the carrying out of these reforms should require an
appropriation to the diplomatic service fifty per cent. higher
than it now is,--which is an amount greater than would really be
required by all the expenditures I propose, including interest
upon the purchase money of appropriate quarters for our
representatives abroad,--the total additional cost to each
citizen of the United States would be less than half a cent each
year.

The first result of these and other reforms which I have
indicated, beginning with what is of the very first
importance,--provision for a proper house or apartment in every
capital,--would certainly be increased respect for the United
States and increased effectiveness of its foreign
representatives.

As to the other reforms, such as suitable requirements for
secretaryships, and proper promotion throughout the whole
service, they would vastly increase its attractiveness, in all
its grades, to the very men whom the country most needs. They
would open to young men in our universities and colleges a most
honorable career, leading such institutions to establish courses
of instruction with reference to such a service--courses which
were established long since in Germany, but which have arrived
nearest perfection in two of our sister republics--at the
University of Zurich in Switzerland, and in the ecole Libre des
Sciences Politiques in Paris.

It seems certain that a diplomatic service established and
maintained in the manner here indicated would not only vastly
increase the prestige and influence of the United States among
her sister nations, but, purely from a commercial point of view,
would amply repay us. To have in diplomatic positions at the
various capitals men thoroughly well fitted not only as regards
character and intellect, but also as regards experience and
acquaintance, and to have them so provided for as to become the
social equals of their colleagues, would be, from every point of
view, of the greatest advantage to our country materially and
politically, and would give strength to our policy throughout the
world.

And, finally, to a matter worth mentioning only because it has at
sundry times and in divers manners been comically argued and
curiously misrepresented--the question as to a diplomatic
uniform.

As regards any principle involved, I have never been able to see
any reason, a priori, why, if we have a uniform for our military
service and another for our naval service, we may not have one
for our diplomatic service. It has, indeed, been asserted by
sundry orators dear to the galleries, as well as by various
"funny-column" men, that such a uniform is that of a lackey; but
this assertion loses force when one reflects on the solemn fact
that "plain evening dress," which these partizans of Jeffersonian
simplicity laud and magnify, and which is the only alternative to
a uniform, is worn by table-waiters the world over.

Yet, having conceded so much, truth compels me to add that,
having myself never worn anything save "plain evening dress" at
any court to which I have been accredited, or at any function
which I have attended, I have never been able to discover the
slightest disadvantage to my country or myself from that fact.

Colleagues of mine, clad in resplendent uniforms, have, indeed,
on more than one occasion congratulated me on being allowed a
more simple and comfortable costume; and though such expressions
are, of course, to be taken with some grains of allowance, I have
congratulated myself with the deepest sincerity on my freedom
from what seems to me a most tiresome yoke.

The discussion of a question of such vast importance--to the
censors above referred to--would be inadequate were mention not
made of a stumbling-block which does not seem to have been
adequately considered by those who propose a return to the
earlier practice of our Republic--and this is, that the uniform
is, at any European court, but a poor thing unless it bears some
evidence of distinguished service, in the shape of stars,
crosses, ribbons, and the like. A British ambassador, or minister
plenipotentiary, in official uniform, but without the ribbon or
star of the Bath or other honorable order, would appear to little
advantage indeed. A representative of the French Republic would
certainly prefer to wear the plainest dress rather than the most
splendid uniform unadorned by the insignia of the Legion of
Honor, and, in a general way, the same may be said of the
representatives of all nations which approve the wearing of a
diplomatic uniform.

But our own Republic bestows no such "decorations," and allows
none of its representatives, during their term of office, to
receive them; so that, if put into uniform, these representatives
must appear to the great mass of beholders as really of inferior
quality, undistinguished by any adornments which indicate good
service.

All this difficulty our present practice avoids. The American
ambassador, or minister, is known at once by the fact that he
alone wears plain evening dress; and this fact, as well as the
absence of decorations, being recognized as in simple conformity
with the ideas and customs of his country, rather adds to his
prestige than diminishes it, as far as I have been able to
discover. Perhaps the well-known case of Lord Castlereagh at the
Congress of Vienna is in point. In the midst of the throng of his
colleagues, all of them most gorgeously arrayed in uniforms,
stars, and decorations of every sort, he appeared in the simplest
evening attire; and the attention of Metternich being called to
this fact, that much experienced, infinitely bespangled statesman
answered, "Ma foi! il est bien distingue."

Of course we ought to give due weight to the example set by
Benjamin Franklin when presented to Louis XVI, and the fact that
his simple shoe-strings nearly threw the court chamberlains into
fainting-fits, and that his plain dress had an enormous influence
on public opinion; but, alas! we have also to take account of the
statement by an eminent critic to the effect that Franklin, at
his previous presentation to Louis XV, had worn court dress, and
that he wore similar gorgeous attire at various other public
functions, with the inference that he was prevented from doing
so, when received by Louis XVI, only by the fact that somehow his
court dress was inaccessible.[10]


[10] See Sainte-Beuve, "Causeries du Lundi," Vol. VII, Article of
November 29, 1852.


All these facts, conflicting, but more or less pertinent, being
duly considered, I would have the rule regarding dress remain as
it is, save in the rare cases when the sovereign of a country, at
some special function, requests some modification of it. In such
case the Secretary of State might, one would suppose, be allowed
to grant a dispensation from the ordinary rule without any danger
to American liberty.

For the more profound considerations which this vast subject
suggests, the judicious reader may well consult "Sartor
Resartus."



PART VI

SUNDRY JOURNEYS AND EXPERIENCES

CHAPTER LI

EARLIER EXCURSIONS IN THE UNITED STATES--1838-1875

From my boyhood I have been fond of travel, and at times this
fondness has been of great use to me. My constitution, though
never robust, has thus far proved elastic, and whenever I have at
last felt decidedly the worse for overwork or care, the best of
all medicines has been an excursion, longer or shorter, in our
own country or in some other. Thus it has happened that, besides
journeys into nearly every part of the United States, and
official residences in Russia, France, Germany, and the West
Indies, I have made frequent visits to Europe--among them ten or
twelve to Italy, and even more to Germany, France, and England,
besides excursions into the Scandinavian countries, Egypt,
Greece, and Turkey. To most of these I have alluded in other
chapters; but there are a few remaining possibly worthy of note.

The first of these journeys was taken when I went with my father
and mother from the little country town where we then lived to
Syracuse, Buffalo, and Niagara. This must have been in 1838, when
I was about six years of age. Every step of it interested me
keenly. Like the shop-girl in Emile Souvestre's story, who
journeyed from Paris to St. Cloud, I was "amazed to find the
world so large." Syracuse, which now has about one hundred and
twenty thousand inhabitants, had then, perhaps, five thousand;
the railways which were afterward consolidated into the New York
Central were not yet built, and we traveled mainly upon the
canal, though at times over wretchedly muddy roads. Niagara made
a great impression upon me, and Buffalo, with its steamers,
seemed as great then as London seems now.

Four years later, in 1842, I was taken to the hills of middle
Massachusetts to visit my great-grandfather and
great-grandmother, and thence to Boston, where Faneuil Hall, the
Bunker Hill Monument, Harvard College, and Mount Auburn greatly
impressed me. Returning home, we came by steamer through the
Sound to the city of New York, and stayed at a hotel near Trinity
Church, which was then a little south of the central part of the
city. On another visit, somewhat later, we were lodged at the
Astor House, near the City Hall, which was then at the very
center of everything, and thence took excursions far northward
into the uttermost parts of the city, and even beyond it, to see
the newly erected Grace Church and the reservoir at Forty-second
Street, which were among the wonders of the town. Most of all was
I impressed by the service in the newly erected Trinity Church.
The idea uppermost in my mind was that here was a building which
was to last for hundreds of years, and that the figures in the
storied windows above the altar would look down upon new
generations of worshipers, centuries after I, with all those
living, should have passed away. My feeling for religious music
was then, as since, very deep; and the organ of Trinity gave
satisfaction to this feeling; the tremulous ground-tone of the
great pedal diapasons thrilling me through and through.

At this period, about 1843, began my visits with the family to
Saratoga. My grandfather, years before, had derived benefit from
its waters, and the tradition of this, as well as the fact that
my father there met socially his business correspondents from
different parts of the State, led to our going year after year.
Drinking the waters, taking life easily upon the piazzas of the
great hotels festooned with Virginia creepers, and driving to the
lake, formed then, as now, the main occupations of the day. But
there was then one thing which has now ceased: in many of the
greater hotels public prayers were held every evening, some
eminent clergyman officiating; and a leader in these services was
David Leavitt, a famous New York bank president, shrewd, but
pious. Now and then, as the political campaigns drew on, we had
speeches from eminent statesmen; and I give in the chapters on
"My Religion" reminiscences of speeches on religious subjects
made by Archbishop Hughes and Father Gavazzi. An occasional visit
from Washington Irving or Senator (afterward President) Buchanan,
as well as other men of light and leading, aroused my tendencies
toward hero-worship; but perhaps the event most vividly stamped
into my memory was the parade of Mme. Jumel. One afternoon at
that period she appeared in the streets of Saratoga in an open
coach-and-four, her horses ridden by gaily dressed postilions.
This was regarded by very many visitors as an affront not merely
to good morals, but to patriotism, for she had the fame of having
been in relations, more intimate than edifying, with Aaron Burr,
who was widely considered as a traitor to his country as well as
the murderer of Alexander Hamilton; and on the second day of her
parade, another carriage, with four horses and postilions, in all
respects like her own, followed her wherever she went and
sometimes crossed her path: but this carriage contained an
enormous negro, black and glossy, a porter at one of the hotels,
dressed in the height of fashion, who very gravely rose and
doffed his hat to the applauding multitudes on either side of the
way. Mme. Jumel and her friends were, of course, furious; and it
was said that her postilions would in future be armed with
pistols and directed to fire upon the rival equipage should it
again get in their way. But no catastrophe occurred; Mme. Jumel
took one or two more drives, and that was the end of it.

In my college days, from 1849 to 1853, going to and from New
Haven, I frequently passed through New York, and the progress of
the city northward since my earlier visits was shown by the fact
that the best hotel nearest the center of business had become
first the Irving House, just at the upper end of the City Hall
Park, and later the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan hotels, some
distance up Broadway. Staying in 1853 at a hotel looking out upon
what was to be Madison Square, I noticed that all north of that
was comparatively vacant, save here and there a few houses and
churches.

Going abroad shortly afterward, I gave three years to my
attacheship and student life in Europe, traveling across the
continent to St. Petersburg and back, as well as through Germany,
Switzerland, Austria, and Italy, all of which were then under the
old regime of disunion and despotism. To these journeys I refer
elsewhere.

Interesting to me, after my return home, were visits to Chicago
in 1858 and at various times afterward. At my first visits the
city was wretchedly unkempt. Workmen were raising its grade, and
their mode of doing this was remarkable. Under lines of brick and
stone houses, in street after street, screws were placed; and,
large forces of men working at these, the vast buildings went up
steadily. My first stay was at the Tremont House, then a famous
hostelry; and during the whole of my visit the enormous
establishment, several stories in height, was going on as usual,
though it was all open beneath and rising in the air perceptibly
every day. Years afterward, when Mr. George Pullman had become
deservedly one of the powers of Chicago, he gave me a dinner, at
which I had the pleasure of meeting a large number of the most
energetic and distinguished men of the city. Being asked by a
guest as to the time when I first visited Chicago, I stated the
facts above given, when my interlocutor remarked, "Yes, and if
you had gone down into the cellar beneath the Tremont House you
would have found our host working at one of the jack-screws." I
had already an admiration for Mr. Pullman; for he had told me of
his creation of the Pullman cars, and had shown me through the
beautiful artisan town which bears his name; but by this remark
my respect for him was greatly augmented.

My first visit to the upper Mississippi left an indelible
impression on my mind. No description of that vast volume of
water slowly moving before my eyes ever seemed at all adequate
until, years afterward, I read Mark Twain's "Tom Sawyer," and his
account of the scene when his hero awakes on a raft floating down
the great river struck a responsive chord in my heart. It was the
first description that ever answered at all to the picture in my
mind. Very interesting to me were sundry later excursions to
Boston, generally on university or other business. At one of
these I purchased the library of President Sparks for the
university, and, staying some days, had the pleasure of meeting
many noted men--among them Mr. Josiah Quincy, whose reminiscences
were to me very interesting, his accounts of conversations with
John Adams perhaps more so than anything else. At various clubs I
met most charming people, the most engrossing of these being
Arthur Gilman, the architect: then, and at other times, I sat up
with him late into the night,--once, indeed, the entire
night,--listening to his flow of quaint wit and humor. The range
of his powers was perhaps best shown in a repetition of what he
claimed to be the debate in the city council of Boston on his
plans for a new city hall, which were afterward adopted. The
speeches in Irish brogue, Teutonic Jargon, and down-east Yankee
dialect, with utterances interposed here and there by solemnly
priggish members, were inimitable. His pet antipathy seemed to be
the bishop of the diocese, Dr. Eastburn. Stories were told to the
effect that Gilman, early in life, had desired to take orders in
the Protestant Episcopal Church, but that the bishop refused to
ordain him, on the ground that he lacked the requisite
discretion. Hence, perhaps his zeal in preaching what he claimed
to be the bishop's sermons. Dr. Eastburn was much given to
amplification, and Gilman always insisted that he had heard him
once, when preaching on the parable of Dives and Lazarus, discuss
the prayer of Dives in torments for a drop of water, as follows:
"To this, my brethren, under the circumstances entirely natural,
but, at the same time, no less completely inadmissible request,
the aged patriarch replied."

The bishop, who enjoyed a reputation for eloquence, was wont to
draw his lungs full of air at frequent periods during his
discourses, thus keeping his voice strong, as skilful
elocutionists advise; and on one very warm summer afternoon,
according to Gilman's account, a little boy in the congregation,
son of one of the most distinguished laymen in the diocese,
becoming very uneasy and begging his mother to allow him to go
home, she had quieted him several times by assuring him that the
bishop would soon be through, when, just at one of the most
impressive passages, the bishop having drawn in his breath as
usual, the little boy screamed so as to be heard throughout the
church, "No, he won't stop, mama; no, he won't stop; don't you
see he has just blowed hisself up again?"

Gilman also told us a story of the bishop's catechizing the
children in a Boston church, when, having taken the scriptural
account of Jonah and carried the prophet into the whale's belly,
he asked very impressively, "And now, children, how do you
suppose that Jonah felt?" Whereupon little Sohier, son of the
noted lawyer, piped out, "Down in the mouth, sir." Gilman
insisted that the bishop was exceeding wroth, and complained to
the boy's father, who was unable to conceal from the bishop his
delight at his son's answer.

At one visit or another, mainly during the years of my connection
with Cornell University, I met at Boston, pleasantly, the men who
were then most distinguished in American literature. One of
these, who interested me especially, was Ticknor, author of the
"History of Spanish Literature." Longfellow always seemed to me a
most lovely being, whether at Nahant or at Cambridge. Lowell was
wonderfully brilliant as well as kindly, and Edward Everett Hale
delightful. It was the time of Hale's short stories in the
"Atlantic Monthly," which seem to me the best ever written.
Oliver Wendell Holmes I met so rarely that I have little memory
of his brilliant conversation. Emerson I met then and at other
times,--once, especially, in a railway train during one of his
Western lecture tours; he was then reading the first volume of
Carlyle's "Frederick the Great," and, on my asking him how he
liked it, instead of showing his usual devotion to the author, he
burst forth into a stream of protests against Carlyle's
"everlasting scolding at Dryasdust." A man who was as much
overrated then as he is underrated now was Whipple, the essayist;
he was always bright, and often suggestive; but too reliant upon
a style which is now out of date,--frequently summoning
"alliteration's artful aid," and resorting to other devices,
fashionable then, but now discarded. Perhaps the best of all his
sentences was the one on the three great statesmen of that
period, to the effect that Webster was INductive, Calhoun
DEductive, and Clay SEductive; which was not only well stated but
true. Very vividly comes back to me a supper-party given early in
1875 at the house of James T. Fields, in celebration of Bayard
Taylor's birthday. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Fields and Taylor were
present Richard H. Dana, eminent in law and letters; Cranch, then
known both as a painter and poet; Mr. Osgood; and myself. Taylor
recited, as I had heard him do at other times, from the
productions of the Georgia poet, Chivers, and especially from the
"Eonx of Ruby." Chivers, according to Taylor's showing, had
become infatuated with Poe, and adorned his verses with every
sort of beautiful word which he could coin, the result being as
nonsensical a medley as was ever known. Earlier in the evening,
Taylor, Fields, and myself had each of us been giving a lecture,
and this led Taylor to speak of a recent experience of his while
holding forth in one of the smaller towns of Massachusetts. The
chairman of the lecture committee, being seated beside him on the
platform, and wishing to entertain him with edifying conversation
while the audience was coming in remarked that they had had
rather a trying experience during the lecture of the week before.
On Taylor's asking what it was, the chairman answered: "The
lecturer was seized by a virago on the stage." He meant vertigo.
Dana told good stories of old Dr. Osgood of Medford, whose hatred
of Democracy was shown not only in his well-known reading of
Governor Gerry's proclamation, but in his bitter sermon at the
election of Thomas Jefferson. At this some one gave a story
regarding our contemporary Dr. Osgood, the eminent Unitarian
clergyman, who, toward the end of his life, had gone into the
Protestant Episcopal Church. I had known him as a man of much
ability and power, but with a rather extraordinary way of
asserting himself and patronizing people. He had recently died,
and a legend had arisen that, on his arrival in the New
Jerusalem, being presented to St. Paul, he said: "Sir, I have
derived both profit and pleasure from your writings, and have
commended them to my congregation."

Our host, Fields, was especially delightful. He gave
reminiscences of his stay with Tennyson on the Isle of
Wight--among others, of taking a walk with him one dark evening
when, suddenly, the great poet fell on his knees, and seeming to
burrow in the grass called out gutturally and gruffly: "Man, get
down on your marrow-bones; here are violets." Fields also gave
reminiscences of Charles Sumner, showing the great senator's
utter lack of any sense of humor, and among them a story of his
summoning his office-boy to his presence on the eve of the Fourth
of July and addressing him on this wise: "Patrick, to-morrow is
the natal day of our Republic; it is a day for public rejoicing,
a time of patriotic festivity. You need not come to the office;
go out and rejoice with our fellow-citizens that your lot is cast
in so happy a country. Here are fifty cents; I advise you to pass
the day at the cemetery of Mount Auburn."

Very interesting to me were sundry excursions in the Southern
States, the first as far back as 1864. After attending the
Baltimore Convention which renominated Mr. Lincoln, and paying my
respects to him at Washington, as stated in my political
reminiscences, I went somewhat later to Richmond. Libby Prison
had a sad interest for me, as for many at that time, and on all
sides was seen the havoc of war; but perhaps the most curious
feature of my stay was a visit to the house which had served as
the White House of the Confederacy--the dwelling of Jefferson
Davis, for, just as I entered the door I met one of the arch
antislavery men of New England, Dr. Leonard Bacon of New Haven.
Both of us were happy at the outcome of the war, but it was with
a very solemn sort of joy that we thus met in such a place. I
seemed to hear, as so often in the South of that day, and,
indeed, in the North also, that fearful prophecy of Thomas
Jefferson--when speaking of slavery in the Southern
States--beginning with the words, "I tremble when I remember that
God is just." Halting at Gettysburg on my return northward, I
found marks of the terrible contest of the previous year still
vivid. For miles, in all directions, on the roads and through the
fields, were fragments of shell, of cannon, of harness, of
clothing, and equipments of every sort. The trees, especially
those near the great centers of the struggle, where the cemetery
now is, were gashed and torn in trunk and branches, and here and
there were to be seen fragments of human bodies which, having
been too hastily buried, had been washed out by the rains.

About ten years later,--February, 1875,--being much worn with
labor and care at the university, I made a short stay in the more
Southern States, my first stop being at Washington, where I
passed an interesting evening at the Executive Mansion with
President Grant, who was as simple and cordial in manner as ever.
The next day I left Washington for Richmond and the far South,
and on the morning following was aroused at one of the
way-stations by hearing negroes singing in a neighboring car.
They were happy at the prospect of breakfast, but a curious
preliminary was that each came out upon the platform, and, taking
a currycomb which was hung up for the purpose, curried himself,
much as an ostler administers that treatment to a horse--every
negro grasping in his turn the large wooden handle and pulling
the iron teeth through his plentiful wool.

Stopping next at Columbia in South Carolina, I saw flagrant
examples of carpet-bag rule; but of those in the State-house I
have already spoken. Here was a focus of Southern feeling; and at
the State University, which was charmingly situated, and
altogether a most fitting home for scholars and thinkers, I was
taken into the library where formerly stood the bust of Francis
Lieber, once a professor in the institution. Never had the South
a wiser or better friend. In after years I knew, loved, and
respected him. No man with a deeper knowledge of free
institutions, or with greater love for them, has ever lived in
our country; but when the news came to his old university, where
he had been so greatly admired, that he was true to the Union,
his marble bust was torn from its place, dishonored, and
destroyed. There could be no better illustration of Bishop
Butler's idea of "a possible insanity of States."

On Sunday, having been taken by one of the professors in the
university to a Protestant Episcopal church for colored people,
of which he was rector, I was surprised at the light color and
real beauty of many of the women present: nowhere, save in
Jamaica, had I seen people of mixed races so attractive. In
Charleston there were on all sides ruins, due not only to the
Civil War, but to the more recent fire and earthquake. It all
seemed as if the vengeance of Heaven had been wrought upon the
city. My sympathies were deeply enlisted; I felt no anger over
the past, no exultation. I was taken to a home for Confederate
orphans and to another for widows, and in both were pointed out
to me members of families, now hopelessly destitute, who before
the war lived in luxury. In no city, at home or abroad, have I
ever seen a line of stately mansions which seemed more fitting
abodes for wealth and culture than those upon the esplanade at
Charleston; in the days gone by a noble hospitality had centered
there, but all was now silent and distressed.

On the 4th of March we arrived in Florida and found it
fascinating. Never before had I been farther south upon the
mainland of the United States than Charleston, and never had I
seen anything of this region, save when the frigate bearing the
Santo Domingo Commission touched at Key West. Among the most
characteristic things at Jacksonville was a large church
belonging to the negro Baptists, who were evidently the leading
sect. The church was large, but unfinished, and a main feature of
every service was passing the hat for contributions. The services
were singular indeed. There was one old negro pastor who, though
he could read little if at all, had schooled himself to look into
the Bible while reciting parts of chapters, and to keep his eyes
upon the pages of his hymnal while repeating the hymns; and a
very weighty function was the reading of notices of every sort of
social gathering, especial prominence being given to meetings of
fire-engine companies. The number of Northern visitors was very
large, and it was evident that the negro managers of the
congregation felt the importance of keeping on good terms with
all of them without regard to party; for, on one occasion, as the
pastor was giving these notices, slowly deciphering them, with
the aid of a younger minister, and reading them mechanically, he
began as follows: "Dere will be a meetin' of de Republikins of
dis ward"--and instantly a number of the brethren started to
their feet, and put up their hands with a long "Hu-u-u-sh!" The
preacher was greatly embarrassed and passed on immediately to
"There will be a meeting of No. 2 Fire Company," etc., etc. Most
hearty of all was the singing, in which the whole congregation
joined loudly and with voices clear and silvery. After the
services were over there came regularly what was called the
"sperritual part." Some one of the more gifted singers--of whom,
perhaps, the most satisfactory was a young colored man in a black
velvet coat and a brilliant red tie--came forward, stood before
the pulpit, and began a long solo--as a rule, with scores of
verses. One was on the creation, another on the flood, each verse
paraphrasing the scriptural account; and the refrain, in which
the whole congregation joined, was as follows:

 "Ole Pharaoh he got law-s-t--
  Got law-s-t, got law-s-t--
  Ole Pharaoh he got drownded
  In the Re-e-e-e-d Sea."

But soon came a song which amazed me. It was totally different in
character from any of the others, and was called "The Seven
Glories of Mary." One of the verses ran as follows:

 "An' de berry next glory dat Mary she had,
  It was de glory of sebben--
  It was dat her Son Jesus he tolled de bells of hebben;"

and then, as at the end of each verse, came from the whole
congregation the refrain:

 "Oh, trials an' tribulashuns!
  I'm gwine to quit dis world."


Next day I sent for the singer and asked him where he had learned
his songs. His answer was, "Boss, I made 'em up myself." To this
I answered, "Quite likely, some of them; but not 'The Seven
Glories of Mary.'" He thought a moment, and then said, "Yes,
boss, you 're right; dat song I brought down from ole Virginny."
It was as I had thought. The song was an old Christmas carol,
evidently brought from England in Colonial times; and the
negroes, having substituted here and there a word or a phrase
which struck them as finer than the original had preserved it.

Strange, indeed, were the devotions of this great congregation.
Occasionally some old plantation negro, gray-headed and worn with
labor, would rise and lead in the prayers with a real
inspiration, pouring out his whole heart, with all its hopes and
sorrows. Never have I heard more pathetic supplications. More
than once I have seen tears streaming from the eyes of the
Northern visitors, and then, almost in a moment, the same faces
wreathed in smiles at some farce in giving out the notices or in
taking up the collections.

A charming episode in this Florida stay was an excursion up the
St. John's River, through beautiful semi-tropical vegetation. But
one thing was exceedingly vexatious. On the deck of the steamer
were various tourists who enjoyed themselves by shooting the
beautiful birds and interesting saurians of the region--mere
wanton killing, with never any stop to pick up the bodies of
these creatures. It reminded me of the old wastefulness in the
North,--the exhaustive fishing of the rivers and streams,
especially the trout-streams; the killing of deer by hundreds;
and the wanton extermination of the buffalo. Wonderful to me were
the great springs of the region--springs so large that the little
steamer could make its way to them and upon them, so that from
the deck we could look far, far down into the depths as through
clear crystal. Most interesting of the people I met were
Professor and Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, who were passing the
winter in their house at Mandarin near by, and invited us to
visit them. Theirs was a happy-go-lucky sort of life, in a simple
cottage surrounded by great orange orchards, beyond which was a
fringe of palmettos. On the morning after our arrival, Mrs. Stowe
came in and said, "Well, we shall have dinner." To which I said,
"Of course we shall." "No," said she, "not 'of course,' for when
I awoke this morning there was nothing for dinner in the house,
and no prospect of anything in the village; but, taking my walk,
I met a negro with a magnificent wild turkey which he had just
shot, and that we will have." Just before dinner, our hostess and
I walked out into the orange orchard and there picked from the
trees a large market-basket full of the most beautiful oranges
ever seen,--large, sweet, and juicy; and these, embedded deftly
by her in a great mass of rich green leaves, glorified the table
during the discussion of the turkey, and became our dessert.
Never was there a more sumptuous dinner, and never better talk.
Mrs. Stowe was at her best, and the Doctor abounded in quaint
citations from French memoirs, of which he was an indefatigable
reader.

On the way North I stopped again at Charleston, visiting Drayton
Hall, a fine old mansion dating from 1740, but never completed,
surrounded by beautiful gardens filled with great azaleas in full
bloom, the most gorgeous I have ever seen in any part of the
world; but a cloud seemed to rise over it all when we were told
that, except in winter, remaining on the island was for white
people certain death. In all this journey through the South I
added much to my library regarding Secession and the Civil War;
accumulating newspapers, tracts, and books which became the
nucleus of the large Civil War collection at Cornell. Then, too,
there were talks with people on the train and in the hotels,
sometimes profitable and sometimes amusing. As to the feeling
between the whites and the negroes, a former master said to me,
"My old niggers will do anything I wish except cast their ballots
for me; they will give me anything they have in this world except
their votes; they would starve themselves for me, but they won't
vote for me." Among myriads of stories I heard one which seemed
to argue more philosophic power in the negro than many suppose
him to possess. A young planter at one of the Southern
watering-places appeared every day terribly bitten by mosquitos,
so that, finally, some of the guests said to his negro
body-servant, "Bob, why don't you take pains to protect your
master with mosquito curtains?" To which the negro answered, "No
use in it, sah; de fact is, sah, dat in de night-time Mars Tom is
too drunk to care for de skeeters, and in de daytime de skeeters
is too drunk to care for Mars Tom." There was also a revelation
of negro religious feeling in a story told me regarding "Thad"
Stevens. Mr. Stevens was in his day, on many accounts, the most
powerful member of the House of Representatives--at times a very
stern mentor to Mr. Lincoln, and to President Johnson a terror. I
remember him as rough and of acrid humor, but with a sort of
rugged power. The story was that one day, while at dinner, he
heard at the sideboard the crash of a platter, and immediately,
in a fury, called out, with a bitter oath, "Well, you idiot
--------, what have you broken now?" To which the negro woman
answered, "Bress de good Lord, it ain't de third commandmunt."

There were various other journeys on American soil, and among
them a very delightful summer stay, in 1884, at Nantucket; but of
all the impressions upon me at that period perhaps the strongest
was made by a piece of crass absurdity not unusual in a certain
stratum of American society. Making an excursion with my friend
President Gilman from Nantucket to the United States Fisheries
Station at Woods Hole, we stopped overnight at Martha's Vineyard,
a beautiful little island which has now become a sort of saints'
rest where, during the summer, a certain class of pious New
Englanders of the less intellectual type crowd themselves into
little cottages and enjoy a permanent camp-meeting. Never,
except, perhaps, among the dervishes of Cairo, have I seen any
religion more repulsive. On the evening of our arrival, Gilman
and I went into the large skating-rink where a German band was
blowing its best, and a large concourse of young men and women
from the various pious families of the place were disporting
themselves. Dancing was not allowed them, and so, with their arms
around each other's waists, they were executing various gyrations
on roller-skates to the sound of this music. Presently, as I sat
rather listlessly looking on, I was struck by a peculiar change
in the tune. Gilman, too, seemed in a way paralyzed by it; and,
turning to him, I said, "Tell me what that music is." Then he
came out of his daze and said, "Great heavens! it is 'Nearer, my
God, to Thee'--played as a waltz!" So it was. The whole thing, to
any proper religious, moral, or esthetic sense, was ghastly.
These pious young men and women, who, on no account, were allowed
to dance, were going through something far more indecent than any
dancing I had ever seen, and to music which was a travesty of one
of the most sacred of Christian compositions. I have long
regarded camp-meetings as among the worst influences to which our
rural youth are subjected--Joe Miller jokes in the pulpit,
hysterics in the pews, with an atmosphere often blasphemous and
sometimes erotic. A devoted country clergyman doing his simple
duty--trying to lift his congregation to better views of life,
partaking their joys and alleviating their sorrows, often a
martyr to meddlesome deacons or to pompous trustees, and his wife
a prey to the whimsical wives of opinionated pew-owners--such a
man I deeply revere; but the longer I live the more I am
convinced that the professional revivalist and the sensation
preacher are necessarily and normally foes both to religion and
to civilization.



CHAPTER LII

ENGLAND REVISITED--1885

In 1885, having resigned the presidency at Cornell, after twenty
years of service, I went to Europe; my main purpose being to
leave my successor untrammeled as to any changes which he might
see fit to make. He was an old friend and student of mine whom,
when the trustees had asked me to nominate a man to follow me I
had named as the best man I knew for the work to be done; but,
warm as were the relations between us, I made up my mind that it
was best to leave him an entirely free hand for at least a year.

Crossing the ocean, I had the close companionship of Thomas
Hughes ("Tom Brown"), and he was at his best. Among the stories
he told was one of Browning. The poet one morning, hearing a
noise in the street before his house, went to his window and saw
a great crowd gazing at some Chinamen in gorgeous costumes who
were just leaving their carriages to mount his steps. Presently
they were announced as the Chinese minister at the Court of St.
James and his suite. A solemn presentation having taken place,
Browning said to the interpreter, "May I ask to what I am
indebted for the honor of his Excellency's visit?" The
interpreter replied, "His Excellency is a poet in his own
country." Thereupon the two poets shook hands heartily. Browning
then said, "May I ask to what branch of poetry his Excellency
devotes himself?" to which the interpreter answered, "His
Excellency devotes himself to poetical enigmas." At this
Browning, recognizing fully the comic element in the situation,
extended his hand most cordially, saying, "His Excellency is
thrice welcome, he is a brother, indeed."

The month of October was passed in the southwest of England, and
there dwell in my mind recollections of Chatsworth, Haddon Hall,
and Bristol; but, above all, of a stay with the historian Freeman
at Wells. The whole life of that charming cathedral town and its
neighborhood was delightful. Freeman's kindness opened all doors
to us. The bishop, Lord Arthur Hervey, showed us kindly
hospitality at his grand old castle, which we had entered by a
drawbridge over the moat. Of especial interest to me was a
portrait of one of his predecessors--dear old Bishop Ken, whose
morning and evening hymns are among the most beautiful ties
between England and the United States. In the evening, dining
with the magistrates and lawyers, I heard good stories, among
them some characterizing various eminent members of the
profession, and of these I especially remember one at the expense
of the late Lord Chancellors Westbury and Cranworth. Lord
Cranworth, after the amalgamation of law and equity, was for some
time in the habit of going to sit with the new judges in order to
familiarize himself with the reformed practice, whereupon some
one asked Lord Westbury, "Why does 'Cranny' go to sit with the
judges?" to which Westbury answered, "Doubtless from a childish
fear of being alone in the dark."

Next day I was invited to sit with the squires in the Court of
Quarter Sessions, and was greatly interested in their mode of
administering justice. There was a firmness, but at the same time
a straightforward common sense about it all which greatly pleased
me. A visit to Wells Cathedral with Freeman was in its way ideal;
for never in all my studies of mediaeval buildings have I had so
good a guide. But perhaps the most curious experience of our stay
was an attendance upon a political meeting at Glastonbury, in the
Gladstonian interest. The first speech was made by the candidate,
Sir Hugh Davey; and in his anxiety to propitiate his hearers he
began by addressing them as men whose ancestors had for centuries
shown their devotion to free principles, and had especially given
proof of this by hanging the last Abbot of Glastonbury at the old
tower above the town. But, shortly afterward, when Freeman began
his speech, it was evident that his love of historical truth and
his devotion to church principles would not permit him to pass
this part of Davey's harangue unnoticed. Referring then
respectfully to his candidate for Parliament, Freeman went on to
say in substance that his distinguished friend was in error; that
the last Abbot of Glastonbury was not a traitor, but a martyr--a
martyr to liberty, and a victim of that arch-enemy of liberty,
Henry VIII. Any one who had heard Freeman in America as a
lecturer would have been amazed at his ability as a political
speaker. As a lecturer, trying to be eloquent while reading a
manuscript, he was generally ineffective and sometimes
comical,--worse even than the general run of lecturers in the
German universities, and that is saying much; but as a public
speaker he was excellent--so much so that, congratulating him
afterward, and bearing in mind the fact that he had been formerly
defeated for Parliament, I assured him that if he would come to
America and make speeches like that, we would most certainly put
him in Congress and keep him there.

Toward the end of October we went on to Exeter, and there, at
Heavitree Church, heard Bishop Bickersteth preach admirably,
meeting him afterward at our luncheon with the vicar, and taking
supper with him at the episcopal palace. He was perhaps best
known in America as the author of the poem, "Yesterday, To-day,
and Forever"; and of this he gave me a copy, remarking that every
year he received from the American publisher a check for fifty
pounds, though there was no copyright requiring any payment
whatever. In his study he showed me a copy of "The Book Annexed,"
which presented the enrichments and emendations which a number of
devout scholars and thinkers were endeavoring to make in the
Prayer-book of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United
States, and he spoke with enthusiasm of these additions, which,
alas! have never yet been adopted.

Next came a visit to Torquay, where Kent's Cavern, with its
prehistoric relics, interested me vastly. Looking at them, there
could be no particle of doubt regarding the enormous antiquity of
the human race. There were to be seen the evidences of man's
existence scattered among the remains of animals long ago
extinct--animals which must have lived before geological changes
which took place ages on ages ago. Mixed with remains of fire and
human implements and human bones were to be seen not only bones
of the hairy mammoth and cave-bear, woolly rhinoceros and
reindeer, which could have been deposited there only in a time of
arctic cold, but bones of the hyena, hippopotamus, saber-toothed
tiger, and the like, which could have been deposited only when
the climate was torrid. The conjunction of these remains clearly
showed that man had lived in England early enough and long enough
to pass through times of arctic cold, and times of torrid heat;
times when great glaciers stretched far down into England and,
indeed, into the Continent, and times when England had a land
connection with the European continent, and the European
continent with Africa, allowing tropical animals to migrate
freely from Africa to the middle regions of England.

The change wrought by such discoveries as these, not only in
England, but in Belgium, France, and elsewhere, as regards our
knowledge of the antiquity of the human race and the character of
the creation process, is one of the great things of our
epoch.[11]


[11] I have discussed this more fully in my "History of the
Warfare of Science with Theology," Vol. I, chap. vi.


Thence we visited various cathedral towns, being shown delightful
hospitality everywhere. There remains vividly in my memory a
visit to Worcester, where the dean, Lord Alwyn Compton, now
Bishop of Ely, went over the cathedral with us, and showed us
much kindness afterward at the deanery--a mediaeval structure,
from the great window of which we looked over the Severn and the
famous Cromwellian battle-field.

Salisbury we found beautiful as of old; then to Brighton and to
"The Bungalow" of Halliwell-Phillips the Shaksperian scholar, and
never have I seen a more quaint habitation. On the height above
the town Phillips had brought together a number of portable
wooden houses, and connected them with corridors and passages
until all together formed a sort of labyrinth; the only clue
being in the names of the corridors, all being chosen from
Shakspere, and each being enriched with Shaksperian quotations
appropriate and pithy. At his table during our stay we met
various interesting guests, one of whom suggested the idea
regarding the secret of Carlyle's cynicism and pessimism to which
reference is made in my "Warfare of Science." Next came visits to
various country houses, all delightful, and then a stay at
Oxford, to which I was reinitiated by James Bryce; and for two
weeks it was a round of interesting visits, breakfasts,
luncheons, and dinners with the men best worth knowing at the
various colleges. Interesting was a visit to All Souls College,
which, having been founded as a place where sundry "clerks"
should pray for the souls of those killed at the battle of Crecy,
had, as Sir William Anson, its present head, showed me, begun at
last doing good work after four hundred years of uselessness. In
the chapel was shown me the restored reredos, which was of great
size, extending from floor to ceiling, taking the place of the
chancel window usual in churches, and made up of niches filled
with statues of saints. As the heads of all the earlier statues
had been knocked off during the fanatical period, there had been
substituted, during the recent restoration, new statues of saints
bearing the heads of noted scholars and others connected with the
college, among which Max Muller once pointed out to me his own,
and a very good likeness it was. Interesting to me were Bryce's
rooms at Oriel, for they were those in which John Henry Newman
had lived: at that hearth was warmed into life the Oxford
Movement. At one of the Oriel dinners, Bryce spoke of the changes
at Oxford within his memory as enormous, saying that perhaps the
greatest of these was the preference given to laymen over
clergymen as heads of colleges. An example of this was the
president of Magdalen. I had met him not many years before in
Switzerland, as a young man, and now he had become the head of
this great college, one of the foremost in the university. This
impressed me all the more because my memory suggested a
comparison between him and the president at my first visit,
thirty years before: Warren, the present president, being an
active-minded layman hardly over thirty, and his predecessor,
Routh, a doctor of divinity, who was then in his hundredth year.
It was curious to see that, while this change had been made to
lay control, various relics of clerical dominance were still in
evidence, and, among these, the surplice worn by Bryce, a member
of Parliament, when he read the lessons from the lectern in Oriel
chapel. At another dinner I was struck by a remark of his, that
our problems in America seemed to him simple and easy compared
with those of England; but as I revise these recollections,
twenty years later, and think of the questions presented by our
acquisitions in the West Indies and in the Philippine and
Hawaiian islands, as well as the negro problem in the South and
Bryanism in the North, to say nothing of the development of the
Monroe Doctrine and the growth of socialistic theories, the query
comes into my mind as to what he would think to-day.


November 9, 1885.

Dining at All Souls with Professor Dicey, I met Professor
Gardiner, the historian, whom I greatly liked; his lecture on
"Ideas in English History," which I had heard in the afternoon,
was suggestive, thorough, and interesting: he is evidently one of
the historians whose work will last. In the hall I noted Lord
Salisbury's portrait in the place of honor.

Tuesday, November 10.

Breakfasting at Oriel with Bryce, I met Broderick, warden of
Merton, and there was an interesting political discussion. Bryce
thought Chamberlain had alarmed the well-to-do classes, but
trusted to Gladstone to bring matters around right, and, apropos
of some recent occurrences, remarked upon the amazing depth of
spite revealed in the blackballing at clubs. Took lunch at
Balliol, where the discussion upon general and American history
was interesting. Dined with Bryce at Oriel, and, the discussion
falling upon English and American politics, sundry remarks of
Fowler, president of Corpus Christi College, were pungent. He
evidently thinks bitterly of political corruption in America, and
I find this feeling everywhere here; politely concealed, of
course, but none the less painful. I could only say that the
contents of the caldron should not be judged from the scum thrown
to the surface. In the evening to Professor Freeman's and met Mr.
Hunt, known as a writer and an examiner in history. He complained
bitterly of the cramming system, as so many do; thought that
Jowett had done great harm by promoting it, and that the main
work now done is for position in the honor list,--cram by tutors
being everything and lectures nothing.

Wednesday, November 11.

Took luncheon with Fowler, president of Corpus Christi, a most
delightful and open-minded man. I have enjoyed no one here more,
few so much. We discussed the teaching of ethics, he lamenting
the coming in of Hegelianism, which seems mainly used by sophists
in upholding outworn dogmas. Afterward we took a long stroll
together, discussing as we walked his admirable little book on
"Progress in Morals"; I suggesting some additions from my own
experience in America. In the afternoon came Professor Freeman's
lecture on Constantine. It was a worthy presentation of a great
subject, but there were fewer than ten members of the university
present, and only two of these remained until the close. In the
evening I dined at Balliol, and, the conversation falling upon
the eminent master of the college, Jowett, and his friendship
with Stubbs, Bishop of Oxford, and Freeman, a budding cynic
recalled the verses:

 "I go first; my name is Jowett;
  I am the Master of Balliol College;
  Whatever's worth knowing, be sure that I know it;
  Whatever I don't know is not knowledge."[12]


[12] This is given differently in Tuckwell's reminiscences.


Whereupon some one cited a line from an Oxford satire: "Stubbs
butters Freeman, and Freeman butters Stubbs"; at which I could
only say that Jowett, Stubbs, and Freeman had seemed to me, in my
intercourse with them, anything but dogmatic, pragmatic, or
unctuous.

November 13.

In the morning breakfasted with Bryce and a dozen or more
graduates and undergraduates in the common room at Oriel, and was
delighted with the relations between instructors and instructed
then shown. Nothing could be better. The discussion turning upon
Froude, who had evidently fascinated many of the younger men by
his style, Bryce was particularly severe against him for his
carelessness as to truth. This reminded me of a remark made to me
by Moncure Conway, I think, that Froude had begun with the career
of a novelist, for which he had decided gifts; that Carlyle had
then made him think this sort of work unworthy, urging him to
write history; and that Froude had carried into historical
writing the characteristics of a romance-writer. In the afternoon
to a beautiful concert in the great hall of Christ Church. A
curious sort of accommodation in quasi-boxes was provided by
pushing the dining-tables to the sides of the room and placing
the audience in chairs upon them and in front of them; it seemed
to me more serviceable than cleanly. In the evening dined at
Lincoln College with the rector, Dr. Merry, who was very
agreeable and entertaining, giving interesting accounts of his
predecessor, Mark Pattison, and of Wilberforce when Bishop of
Oxford. One of the guests, a fellow of New College, told me that
some fifty years ago an American, being entertained there showed
the college dons how to make mint-julep, or something of the
sort, and then sent them a large silver cup with the condition
that it should be filled with this American drink every year on
the anniversary of the donor's visit, and that this is regularly
done. This pious donor must have been, I think, "Nat" Willis.

Sunday, November 15.

Lunched with Johnson, fellow of Merton, and met my old friend
Mlle. Blaze du Bury. Her comments, from the point of view of a
brilliant young Frenchwoman, on all she saw about her at Oxford
were pungent and suggestive. In the evening heard the Archbishop
of York Thompson, preach at St. Mary's. He urged the students to
consecrate themselves by their example to the maintenance of a
better standard of morality; but, despite his strength and force,
the sermon seemed heavy and perfunctory.

November 16.

To Windsor with a party of friends, and as we had a special
permit to see a large number of rooms and curious objects not
usually shown, the visit was very interesting. Sadly suggestive
was Gordon's Bible, every page having its margins covered with
annotations in his own hand: it was brought from Khartoum after
his murder, presented by his sister to the Queen, and is now
preserved in an exquisitely wrought silver casket.

Tuesday, November 18.

Visited Somerville Hall for women, which shows a vast advance
over Oxford as I formerly knew it. To think that its creation
honors the memory of a woman who attained her high scientific
knowledge in spite of every discouragement, and who, when she had
attained it, was denounced outrageously from the pulpit of York
Minster for it! Dined at Merton College with the warden, Hon.
George Broderick, in the hall, which has been most beautifully
restored by Sir Gilbert Scott. When will the founders of our
American colleges and universities understand the vast
educational value of surroundings like these, and especially of a
"hall" in which students meet every day, beneath storied windows
and the busts and portraits of the most eminent men in the
history of science, literature, and public service?

In answer to the question whether in American universities there
was anything like the association between instructors and
students in England, I spoke of the evolution of our fraternity
houses as likely to bring about something of the sort. The
fraternal relation between teachers and taught is certainly the
best thing in the English universities, and covers a multitude of
sins. If I were a great millionaire I would establish in our
greater universities a score or so of self-governing colleges,
each with comfortable lodging-rooms and studies and with its own
library and dining-hall. In the common room, after dinner, I sat
next Professor Wallace, whose book on Kant I had read. He thinks
the system of ethics really predominant in England is modified
Kantianism.

November 19.

To Mortimer, near Reading, on a visit to Sir Paul Hunter, who
once visited me at Cornell. Extracts from my diary of this visit
are as follows:

November 20.

To Bearwood, the seat of John Walter, M.P., proprietor of the
"Times," and for the first time in my life saw a fox hunt, with
the meet, the huntsmen in red coats, and all the rest of it.

November 21.

Visited the old Abbey Church at Reading with Sir Paul, and in the
evening met various interesting people at dinner, among them Sir
John Mowbray, M.P. for Oxford and Mr. Walter.

Sunday, November 22.

After morning service in the beautiful parish church which, with
its schools, was the gift of Mr. Benyon, several of us took a
walk to Silchester, with its ruins of an old Roman bath, on the
Duke of Wellington's estate. In the evening Mr. Walter, who
usually appears so reticent and quiet, opened himself to me quite
freely, speaking very earnestly regarding the unfortunate turn
which the question between Catholics and Protestants has taken in
England under pressure from the Vatican, especially as regards
marriages, and illustrating his view by some most suggestive
newspaper cuttings. He also gave me what he claimed was the true
story of Earl Russell's conduct in letting out the Confederate
cruisers against us during the Civil War, attributing it to the
fact that an underling charged with preventing it went suddenly
mad, so that the matter did not receive early attention. But this
did not modify my opinion of Earl Russell. Thank Heaven, he lived
until he saw Great Britain made to pay heavily for his obstinacy.
Pity that he did not live to see the present restoration of good
feeling between the two countries; esto perpetua (1905).

Monday, November 23.

In the afternoon drove to "Bramshill," the magnificent seat of
Sir William Cope; after all, there has never been any domestic
architecture so noble as the Elizabethan and Jacobean. In the
evening to a Tory meeting, Sir John Mowbray presiding; his
opening speech astounded me. Presenting the claims of his party,
he said that the Tories were not only the authors of extended
suffrage under Lord Beaconsfield, but that they ought also to
have the credit of free trade in grain, since Sir Robert Peel had
supported the bill for the repeal of the corn laws. Remembering
the treatment which Sir Robert Peel received from Disraeli and
the Tory party for this very act, it seemed to me that Sir John's
speech was the coolest thing I had ever heard in my life. It was
taken in good part, however. In America I am quite sure that such
a speech would have been considered an insult to the audience.

November 24.

To Cambridge, where I met a number of old friends, including Dr.
Waldstein, director of the Fitzwilliam Museum, and Sedley Taylor,
fellow of Trinity; and in the evening dined at King's College
with the former and a number of interesting men, including
Westcott, the eminent New Testament scholar (since Bishop of
Durham).

November 26.

Dined at Trinity College with Sedley Taylor and others, and
thence to the Politico-Economic Association to hear a discussion
upon cooperation in production; those taking the principal part
in the meeting being sundry leading men among the professors and
fellows devoted to political economy. During the day I called on
Robertson Smith, the eminent biblical critic, who, having been
thrown out of the Free Church of Scotland for revealing sundry
truths in biblical criticism a dozen years too soon, has been
received into a far better place at Cambridge.

November 27.

Had a delightful hour during the morning in King's College chapel
with Bradshaw, the librarian of the university--a most
accomplished man. He has a passion for church architecture, and
his discussions of the wonderful stained windows of the chapel
were very interesting. The evening service at King's College was
most beautiful: nothing could be more perfect than the antiphonal
rendering of the Psalms by the two choirs and the great organ.
More and more I am impressed by the EDUCATIONAL value of such
things.

November 28.

During the greater part of the day in the library of Trinity
College with Sedley Taylor. Years before, I had explored its
treasures with Aldis Wright, but there were new things to
fascinate me. Dining at King's College with Waldstein, met
Professor Seeley, author of the "Life of Stein," a book which,
ever since its appearance, has been an object of my admiration.

November 29.

In the morning, at King's College chapel, I was greatly struck by
the acoustic properties of this immense building; for, having
seated myself near the door at the west end, I distinctly heard
every word of the prayer for the church militant as it was
recited before the altar at the other end. Afterward, at Oscar
Browning's rooms, looked over a multitude of interesting
documents, including British official reports from New York
during our War of the Revolution; and in the evening, at
Waldstein's rooms, met Sir Henry Maine and discussed with him his
book on "Popular Government." He interested me greatly, and I
pointed out to him some things which, in my opinion, he might
well dwell more strongly upon in future editions, and among these
the popularity of the veto power in the United States, as shown
in its extension by recent legislation of various States to items
of supply bills.

At noon to luncheon at Christ's College with Professor Robertson
Smith, the Scotch heretic. This was the Cambridge home of Milton
and Darwin, interesting memorials of whom were shown me. Among
the guests was Dr. Creighton, professor of ecclesiastical
history. The early part of Creighton's book on the "History of
the Papacy During the Reformation Period" had especially
interested me, and I now enjoyed greatly his knowledge of Italian
matters. He discussed Tomasini's book on Machiavelli, and sundry
new Italian books on the relations of the Popes and Fra Paolo
Sarpi.

November 30.

Took tea at St. Mary's Hall with Sir Henry Maine, and continued
our discussion on his "Popular Government," which, while opposed
to democracy, pays a great tribute to the Constitution of the
United States. Dined with Professor Creighton; met various
interesting people, and discussed with him and Mrs. Creighton
sundry points in English history, especially the career of
Archbishop Laud; my opinion of Macaulay's injustice being
confirmed thereby.

December 11.

Went in the morning with Sedley Taylor and Professor Stuart,
M.P., an old friend of former visits, and inspected the
mechanical laboratory and workshops. There were about seventy
university men, more or less, engaged in these, and it was
interesting to see English Cambridge adopting the same line which
we have already taken at Cornell against so much opposition, and
surprising to find the Cambridge equipment far inferior to that
of Cornell. Afterward visited the polling booths for an election
which was going on, and noted the extraordinary precautions
against any interference with the secrecy of the ballot. Also to
the Cavendish physical laboratory, which, like the mechanical
laboratory, was far inferior in equipment to ours at Cornell. In
the evening to the Greek play,--the "Eumenides" of
Aeschylus,--which was wonderfully well done. The Athena, Miss
Case of Girton College, was superb; the Apollo imposing; the
Orestes a good actor; and the music very effective. I found
myself seated next Andrew Lang, so well known for his literary
activity in various fields; and on speaking to him of the evident
delights of life at Cambridge and Oxford, I found that he had
outlived his enthusiasm on that subject.

December 2.

In the morning took a charming walk through St. Peter's, Queen's,
and other colleges, enjoying their quiet interior courts, their
halls and cloisters, the bridges across the Cam, and the walks
beyond. Then to a lecture by Professor Seeley on "Forces of
Government in History." It was admirably clear, though, in parts,
perhaps too subtle. As to England he summed all up by saying that
its present system was simply revolution at any moment. Walking
home with him afterward, I asked why, if his statement were
correct, it did not realize the old ideal in France--namely, that
of "La revolution en permanence." At luncheon with Waldstein at
King's College we found Lord Lytton, recently governor-general of
India, known to literature as "Owen Meredith," with Lady Lytton;
also Sir William Anson, provost of All Souls; as well as the
Athena of last evening, Miss Case; the Orestes, the Apollo, Sir
Henry Maine, and others. I was amused at the difference between
Lord Lytton's way of greeting me and his treatment of Sir William
Anson. When I was introduced, he at once took me by the hand, and
began talking very cordially and openly; but when his eminent
countryman was introduced, each eyed the other as if in
suspicion, did not shake hands, bowed very coldly, and said
nothing beyond muttering some one of the usual formulas. It was a
curious example of the shyness of Englishmen in meeting each
other, and of their want of shyness in meeting men from other
countries. At table Lord Lytton spoke regarding the annexation of
Burmah, likely to be accomplished by the dethronement of the
king, Theebaw; said that it ought to have been accomplished long
ago, and that the delay of action in the premises was due to
English timidity. Both he and Lady Lytton were very agreeable. He
gave an interesting account of a native drama performed before
him in India at the command of one of the great princes, though
speaking of it as "deadly dull." Speaking of difficulties in
learning idioms, he told the story of a German professor who,
priding himself on his thorough knowledge of English idioms,
said, "We must, as you English say, take ze cow by ze corns." At
this some one rejoined with the story of the learned baboo in
India who spoke of something as "magnificent, soul-inspiring, and
tip-top." As another example of baboo English was mentioned the
inscription upon one of the show-cases in an exhibition in India:
"All the goods in this case are for sale, but they cannot be
removed until after the day of judgment."

In the evening met the Historical Club at Oscar Browning's rooms,
and heard an admirable paper by Professor Seeley on "Bourbon
Family Compacts." He said that the fact of their existence was
not fully established until Ranke mentioned them, and that he,
Seeley, then examined the English Foreign Office records and
found them. He spoke of them as refuting the arguments of
Macaulay and others as to the folly of supposing that different
branches of the same family on different thrones are likely to
coalesce. Oscar Browning then read a paper on the flight of Louis
XVI to Varennes. It was elaborate, and based on close study and
personal observation. Browning had even taken measurements of the
distance over which King Louis passed on that fatal night, with
the result that he proved Carlyle's account to be entirely
inaccurate, and his indictment against Louis XVI based upon it to
be absurd. So far from the King having lumbered along slowly
through the night in Mme. Korf's coach because he had not the
force of character to make his driver go rapidly, Browning found
that the journey was made in remarkably quick time.

December 3.

Breakfasting with Sedley Taylor, I met Professor Stuart, M.P.,
who thinks a great liberal, peaceful revolution in the English
constitution will be accomplished within the next fifty years.
Thence walked with Taylor to Newnham College, where we were very
kindly received by Miss Gladstone, daughter of the prime
minister, and shown all about the place. We were also cordially
received by Miss Clough, and made the acquaintance of two
American girls, one from New Jersey and the other from
California. Much progress had been made since my former visit
under the guidance of Professor and Mrs. Fawcett. Thence to Jesus
College chapel and saw William Morris's stained glass, which is
the most beautiful modern work of the kind known to me.

December 4.

Visited St. John's, St. Peter's, and other colleges; in the
afternoon saw the eight-oared boats come down the river in fine
style; and in the evening went to the annual "audit dinner" at
Trinity College, the number of visitors in the magnificent hall
being very large. I found myself between the vice-master,
Trotter, and Professor Humphrey, the distinguished surgeon. The
latter thought Vienna had shot ahead of Berlin in surgery, though
he considered Billroth too venturesome, and praised recent
American works on surgery, but thought England was still keeping
the lead. At the close of the dinner came a curious custom. Two
servants approached the vice-master at the head of the first
table, laid down upon it a narrow roll of linen, and then the
guests rolled this along by pushing it from either side until,
when it had reached the other end, a strip of smooth linen was
left along the middle of the whole table. Then a great silver
dish, with ladles on either side, and containing some sort of
fragrant fluid, was set in front of the vice-master, upon the
narrow strip of linen which had formed the roll, and the same
thing was repeated at each of the other tables. The vice-master
having then filled a large glass at his side from the dish, and
I, at his suggestion, having done the same, the great dish was
pushed down the table to guest after guest, each following our
example. Waiting to see what was to follow, I presently observed
a gentleman near me dipping his napkin into his glass and
vigorously scrubbing his face and neck with it, evidently to cool
himself off after dinner; this was repeated with more or less
thoroughness by others present; and then came a musical grace
after meat--the non nobis, Domine--wonderfully given by the
choir. In the combination room, afterward, I met most agreeably
Mr. Trevelyan, M.P., a nephew of Macaulay, who has written an
admirable biography of his uncle.

December 6.

Dined at Trinity College as the guest of Aldis Wright, and met a
number of interesting men, among them Mahaffy, the eminent
professor of Greek at Trinity College, Dublin. Both he and Wright
told excellent stories. Among those of the latter was one of a
Scotchwoman who, on being informed of the change made by the
revisers in the Lord's Prayer,--namely, "and deliver us from the
evil one,"--said, "I doot he'll be sair uplifted." Mahaffy gave
droll accounts of Whately, Archbishop of Dublin. One of these had
as its hero a country clergyman who came to ask Whately for a
living which had just become vacant. The archbishop, thinking to
have a little fun with his guest, said, "Of course, first of all,
I must know what your church politics are: are you an
attitudinarian, a latitudinarian, or a platitudinarian?" To which
the parson replied, "Thank God, your Grace, I am not an Arian at
all at all, if that's what ye mane." The point of this lay in the
fact that among the charges constantly made by the High-church
party against Whately was that of secret Unitarianism. But the
reply so amused Whately that he bestowed the living on the old
parson at once. Mahaffy also said that when Archbishop Trench,
who was a man exceedingly mindful of the proprieties of life,
arrived in Dublin he assured Mahaffy that he intended to follow
in all things the example of his eminent predecessor, whereupon
Mahaffy answered, "Should your Grace do so, you will in summer
frequently sit in your shirt sleeves on the chains in front of
your palace, swinging to and fro, and smoking a long pipe."

Some one capped this with a story that, on a visitor once telling
Whately how a friend of his in a remote part of Ireland had such
confidence in the people about him that he never locked his
doors, the archbishop quietly replied, "Some fine morning, when
your friend wakes, he will find that he is the only spoon left in
the house."

December 7.

For several days visiting attractive places in London. Of most
interest to me were talks with Lecky, the historian. He
especially lamented Goldwin Smith's expatriation, and referred to
his admirable style, though regretting his lack of continuity in
historical work. Though an Irishman devoted most heartily to
Ireland, Lecky thought Gladstone's home rule policy suicidal. On
my telling him of Oscar Browning's study of Louis XVI's flight to
Varennes, he stood up for Carlyle's general accuracy. He liked
Sir Henry Maine's book, but was surprised at so much praise for
"The Federalist," since he thought Story's "Commentaries" much
better. He thought Draper's "History of the Intellectual
Development of Europe" showed too much fondness for very large
generalizations. He liked Hildreth's "History of the United
States" better than Bancroft's, and I argued against this view.
He praised Buckle's style, and when I asked him regarding his own
"Eighteenth Century," he said it was to be longer than he had
expected. As to his "European Morals," he said that it must be
recast before it could be continued. Returning to the subject of
home rule in Ireland, he said it was sure to lead to religious
persecution and confiscation. He speaks in a very low, gentle
voice, is tall and awkward, but has a very kind face, and pleases
me greatly. During my stay in London I did some work in the
British Museum on subjects which interested me, and at a visit to
Maskelyne and Cooke's great temple of jugglery in Piccadilly saw
a display which set me thinking. Few miracle-mongers have ever
performed any feats so wonderful as those there accomplished; the
men and women who take such pleasure in attributing spiritual and
supernatural origin to the cheap jugglery of "mediums" should see
this performance.



CHAPTER LIII

FRANCE, ITALY, AND SWITZERLAND--1886-1887

New Year's day of 1886 found my wife and myself again in Paris;
and, during our stay of nearly a fortnight there, we met various
interesting persons--among them Mr. McLane, the American minister
at that post, whom I had last seen, over thirty years before,
when we crossed the ocean together--he then going as minister to
China, and I as attache to St. Petersburg. His discussions both
of American and French politics were interesting; but a far more
suggestive talker was Mme. Blaze de Bury. Though a Frenchwoman,
she was said to be a daughter of Lord Brougham; his portrait hung
above her chair in the salon, and she certainly showed a
versatility worthy of the famous philosopher and statesman, of
whom it was said, when he was appointed chancellor, that if he
only knew a little law he would know a little of everything. She
apparently knew not only everything, but everybody, and abounded
in revelations and prophecies.

On the way from Paris to the Riviera we encountered at Lyons very
cold weather, and, giving my wraps to my wife, I hurried out into
the station in the evening, bought of a news-vender a mass of old
newspapers, and, having swathed myself in these, went through the
night comfortably, although our coupe was exposed to a most
piercing wind.

Arriving at Cannes, we found James Bryce of the English
Parliament, Baron George von Bunsen of the German Parliament, and
Lord Acton (since professor of history at the University of
Cambridge), all interesting men, but the latter peculiarly so:
the nearest approach to omniscience I have ever seen, with the
possible exception of Theodore Parker. Another person who
especially attracted me was Sir Charles Murray, formerly British
minister at Lisbon and Dresden. His first wife was an
American,--Miss Wadsworth of Geneseo,--and he had traveled much
in America--once through the Adirondacks with Governor Seymour of
New York, of whom he spoke most kindly. Discussing the Eastern
Question, he said that any nation, except Russia, might have
Constantinople; he gave reminiscences of old King John of Saxony,
who was very scholarly, but the last man in the world to be a
king. Most charming of all were his reminiscences of Talleyrand.
The best things during my stay were my walks and talks with Lord
Acton, who was full of information at first hand regarding
Gladstone and other leaders both in England and on the Continent.
Although a Roman Catholic, he spoke highly of Fraser, late
Anglican Bishop of Manchester. As to Americans, he had known
Charles Sumner in America, but had not formed a high opinion of
him, evidently thinking that the senator orated too much; he had
with him a large collection of books, selected, doubtless, from
his two large libraries, in London and in the Tyrol, and with
this he astonished one as does a juggler who, from a single small
bottle, pours out any kind of wine demanded. For example, one
day, Bunsen, Bryce, and myself being with him, the first-named
said something regarding a curious philological tract by Bernays,
put forth when Bunsen was a student at Gottingen, but now
entirely out of print. At this Lord Acton went to one of his
shelves, took down this rare tract, and handed it to us. So, too,
during one of our walks, the talk happening to fall upon one of
my heroes, Fra Paolo Sarpi, I asked how it was that, while in the
old church on the Lagoon at Venice I had at three different
visits sought Sarpi's grave in vain, I had at the last visit
found it just where I had looked for it before. At this he gave
me a most interesting account of the opposition of Pope Gregory
XVI--who, before his elevation to the papacy, had been abbot of
the monastery--to Sarpi's burial within its sacred precincts,
and of the compromise under which his burial was allowed. This
compromise was that his bones, which had so long been kept in the
ducal library to protect them from clerical hatred, might be
buried in the church on the island, provided Sarpi were, during
the ceremonies, honored simply as the discoverer of the
circulation of the blood,--which he probably was not,--and not
honored as the greatest statesman of Venice--which he certainly
was. This, as I then supposed, closed the subject; but in the
afternoon a servant came over, bringing me from Lord Acton a most
interesting collection of original manuscripts relating to
Sarpi,--a large part of them being the correspondence between the
papal authorities and the Venetians who had wished to give
Sarpi's bones decent burial, over half a century before. I now
found that the reason why I had not discovered the grave was that
the monks, as long as they were allowed control, had persisted in
breaking up the tablet bearing the inscription; that they could
not disturb the bones for the reason that Sarpi's admirers had
inclosed them in a large and strong iron box, anchoring it so
that it was very difficult to remove; but that since the death of
the late patriarch and the abolition of monkish power the
inscription over the grave had been allowed to remain
undisturbed.

During another of our morning walks the discussion having fallen
on witchcraft persecution, Lord Acton called in the afternoon and
brought me an interesting addition to my collection of curious
books on that subject--a volume by Christian Thomasius.

On another of our excursions I asked him regarding the
Congregation of the Index at Rome, and its procedure. To this he
answered that individuals or commissions are appointed to examine
special works and reports thereupon to the Congregation, which
then allows or condemns them, as may seem best; and I marveled
much when, in the afternoon of that day, he sent me specimens of
such original reports on various books.

He agreed with me that the papal condemnation of Victor Hugo's
"Les Miserables" was a mistake as a matter of policy--as great a
mistake, indeed, as hundreds and thousands of other condemnations
had been. Of Pope Leo XIII he spoke with respect, giving me an
account of the very liberal concessions made by him at the
Vatican library, so that it is now freely opened to Protestants,
whereas it was formerly kept closely shut. At a later period this
was confirmed to me by Dr. Philip Schaff, the eminent Protestant
church historian, who told me that formerly at the Vatican
library he was only allowed, as a special favor, to look at the
famous Codex, with an attendant watching him every moment;
whereas after Pope Leo XIII came into control he was permitted to
study the Codex and take notes from it at his ease.

In another of his walks Lord Acton discussed Gladstone, whom he
greatly admired, but pointed out some curious peculiarities in
the great statesman and churchman,--among these, that he
worshiped the memory of Archbishop Laud and detested the memory
of William III.

Very interesting were sundry little dinners on Saturday evenings
at the Cercle Nautique, at which I found not only Lord Acton, but
Sir Henry Keating, a retired English judge; General Palfrey, who
had distinguished himself in our Civil War; and a few other good
talkers. At one of these dinners Sir Henry started the question:
"Who was the greatest man that ever lived?" Lord Acton gave very
interesting arguments in favor of Napoleon, while I did my best
in favor of Caesar; my argument being that the system which
Caesar founded maintained the Roman Empire during nearly fifteen
hundred years after his death; that its fundamental ideas and
features have remained effective in various great nations until
the present day; and that they have in our own century shown
themselves more vigorous than ever. Lord Acton insisted that we
have no means of knowing the processes of Caesar's mind; that we
know the mode of thinking of only two ancients, Socrates and
Cicero; that possibly, if we knew more of Shakspere's mental
processes, the preeminence might be claimed for him, but that we
know nothing of them save from his writings; while we know
Napoleon's thoroughly from the vast collections of memoirs, state
papers, orders, conversations, etc., as well as in his amazing
dealings with the problems of his time; that the scope and power
of Napoleon's mental processes seem almost preternatural and of
this he gave various remarkable proofs. He argued that
considerations of moral character and aims, as elements in
greatness, must be left out of such a discussion; that the
intellectual processes and their results were all that we could
really estimate in comparing men. Sir Henry Keating observed that
his father, an officer in the British army, was vastly impressed
by the sight of Napoleon at St. Helena; whereupon Lord Acton
remarked that Thiers acknowledged to Guizot, who told Lord Acton,
that Napoleon was "un scelerat." That seemed to me a rather
strong word to be used by a man who had done so much to revive
the Napoleonic legend Lord Acton also quoted a well-authenticated
story--vouched for by two persons whom he named, one of them
being the Count de Flahaut, who was present and heard the
remark--that when the imperial guards broke at Waterloo, Napoleon
said, "It has always been so since Crecy."

Toward the end of February we went on to Florence, and there met,
frequently, Villari, the historian; Mantegazzi; and other leading
Florentines. Mention being made of the Jesuit Father Curci, who
had rebelled against what he considered the fatal influence of
Jesuitism on the papacy, Villari thought him too scholastic to
have any real influence. Of Settembrini he spoke highly as a
noble character and valuable critic, though with no permanent
place in Italian literature. He excused the tardiness of Italians
in putting up statues to Giordano Bruno and Fra Paolo Sarpi,
since they had so many other recent statues to put up. As I look
back upon this conversation, it is a pleasure to remember that I
have lived to see both these statues--that of Bruno, on the place
in Rome where he was burned alive, and that of Sarpi, on the
place in Venice where the assassins sent by Pope Paul V left him
for dead.

Early in March we arrived in Naples, going piously through the
old sights we had seen several times before. Revisiting Amalfi, I
saw the archbishop pontificating at the cathedral: he was the
finest-looking prelate I ever saw, reminding me amazingly of my
old professor, Silliman of Yale. Then, during the stay of some
weeks in Sorrento, I took as an Italian teacher a charming old
padre, who read his mass every morning in one of the churches and
devoted the rest of the day to literature. He was at heart
liberal, and it was from him that I received a copy of the famous
"Politico-Philosophical Catechism," adopted by Archbishop Apuzzo
of Sorrento, than which, probably, nothing more defiant of moral
principles was ever written. The archbishop had been made by
"King Bomba" tutor to his son, and no wonder that the young man
was finally kicked ignominiously off his throne, and his country
annexed to the Italian kingdom. This catechism, written years
before by the elder Leopardi, but adopted and promoted by the
archbishop, was devoted to maintaining the righteousness of all
that system of extreme despotism, oath-breaking, defiance of
national sentiment, and violations of ordinary decency, which had
made the kingdom of Naples a byword during so many generations.
Therein patriotism was proved to be a delusion; popular education
an absurdity; observance of the monarch's sworn word opposition
to divine law; a constitution a mere plaything in the monarch's
hands; the Bible is steadily quoted in behalf of "the right
divine of kings to govern wrong"; and all this with a mixture of
cynicism and unctuousness which makes this catechism one of the
most remarkable political works of modern times.

At this time I made an interesting acquaintance with Francis
Galton, the eminent English authority on heredity. Discussing
dreams, he told me a story of a lady who said that she knew that
dreams came true; for she dreamed once that the number 3 drew a
prize in the lottery, and again that the number 8 drew it; and
so, she said, "I multiplied them together, 3 X 8 = 27, bought a
ticket bearing the latter number, and won the prize."

Very interesting were my meetings with Marion Crawford, the
author. Nothing could be more delightful than his villa and
surroundings, and his accounts of Italian life were fascinating,
as one would expect after reading his novels. Another new
acquaintance was Mr. Mayall, an English microscopist; he gave me
accounts of his visit to the Louvre with Herbert Spencer, who,
after looking steadily at the "Immaculate Conception" of Murillo,
said "I cannot like a painted figure that has no visible means of
support."

On my return northward I visited the most famous of Christian
monasteries,--the cradle of the Benedictine order,--Monte
Cassino, and there met a young English novice, who introduced me
to various Benedictine fathers, especially sundry Germans who
were decorating with Byzantine figures the lower story, near the
altar of St. Benedict. At dinner the young man agreed with me
that it might be well to have a Benedictine college at Oxford,
but thought that any college established there must be controlled
by the Jesuit order. He professed respect for the Jesuits, but
evidently with some mistrust of their methods. On my asking if he
thought he could bear the severe rule of his order, especially
that of rising about four o'clock in the morning and retiring
early in the evening, he answered that formerly he feared that he
could not, but that now he believed he could. On my tentative
suggestion that he come and establish a Benedictine convent on
Cayuga Lake, he told me that he should probably be sent to
Scotland.

The renowned old monastery seems to be mindful of its best
traditions, for it has established within its walls an admirably
equipped printing-house, in which I was able to secure for
Cornell University copies of various books by learned
Benedictines--some of them, by the beauty of their workmanship,
well worthy to be placed beside the illuminated manuscripts which
formerly came from the Scriptoria.

At Rome I was taken about by Lanciani, the eminent archaeologist
in control of the excavations, who showed me beautiful things
newly discovered and now kept in temporary rooms near the
Capitol. To my surprise, he told me that there is absolutely no
authentic bust of Cicero dating from his time; but this was
afterward denied by Story, the American sculptor, who pointed out
to me a cast of one in his studio. Story spoke gloomily of the
condition of Italy, saying that formerly there were no taxes, but
that now the taxes are crushing. He added that the greatest
mistake made by the present Pope was that, during the cholera at
Naples, he remained in Rome, while King Humbert went immediately
to that city, visited the hospitals, cheered the
cholera-stricken, comforted them, and supplied their wants.

On Easter Sunday I saw Cardinal Howard celebrate high mass in St.
Peter's. He had been an English guardsman, was magnificently
dressed, and was the very ideal of a proud prelate. The audience
in the immediate neighborhood of the altar were none too
reverential, and in other parts of the church were walking about
and talking as if in a market; all of this irreverence reminding
me of the high mass which I had seen celebrated by Pope Pius IX
at the same altar on Easter day of 1856.

Calling on the former prime minister, Minghetti, who had been an
associate of Cavour, I found him very interesting, as was also
Sambuy, senator of the kingdom and syndic of Turin, who was with
him. Minghetti said that the Italian school system was not yet
satisfactory, though young men are doing well in advanced
scientific, mathematical, historical, and economic studies. On my
speaking of a statistical map in my possession which revealed the
enormous percentage of persons who can neither read nor write in
those parts of Italy most directly under the influence of the
church, he said that matters were slowly improving under the new
regime. He spoke with respect of Leo XIII, saying that he was not
so bitter in his utterances against Italy as Pius IX had been.
Discussing Bismarck and Cavour, he said that both were eminently
practical, but that Cavour adhered to certain principles, such as
free trade, freedom of the church, and the like, whereas Bismarck
was wont to take up any principle which would serve his temporary
purpose. Minghetti hoped much, eventually, from Cavour's idea of
toleration, and spoke with praise of the checks put by the
American Constitution on unbridled democracy, whereupon I quoted
to him the remark of Governor Seymour in New York, the most
eminent of recent Democratic candidates for the Presidency, to
the effect that the merit of our Constitution is not that it
promotes democracy, but that it checks it. Minghetti spoke of Sir
Henry Maine's book on "Free Government" with much praise; in
spite of its anti-democratic tendencies, it had evidently raised
his opinion of the American Constitution. He also praised
American scientific progress. Sambuy said that the present growth
of the city of Rome is especially detested by the clergy, since
it is making the city too large for them to control; that their
bitterness is not to be wondered at, since they clearly see that,
no matter what may happen,--even if the kingdom of Italy were to
be destroyed to-morrow,--it would be absolutely impossible for
the old regime of Pope, cardinals, and priests ever again to
govern the city; that with this increase of the population, and
its long exercise of political power, the resumption of temporal
power by the Pope is an utter impossibility; that even if
revolution or anarchy came, the people would never again take
refuge under the papacy.

Very interesting were sundry gatherings at the rooms of Story,
the sculptor. Meeting there the Brazilian minister at the papal
court, I was amazed by his statements regarding the rules
restricting intercourse between diplomatists accredited to the
Vatican and those accredited to the Quirinal; he said that
although the minister from his country to the Quirinal was one of
his best friends, he was not allowed to accept an invitation from
him.

The American minister, Judge Stallo of Cincinnati, seemed to me
an admirable man, in spite of the stories circulated by various
hostile cliques. At the house of the British ambassador Stallo
spoke in a very interesting way of Cardinal Hohenlohe as far
above his fellows and capable of making a great pope. The
political difficulties in Italy, he said, were very great, and,
greatest of all, in Naples and Sicily. Dining with him, I met my
old friend Hoffmann, rector of the University of Berlin, and a
number of eminent Italian men of science, senators, and others.

At the house of Dr. Nevin, rector of the American Episcopal
church, I met the Dutch minister, who corroborated my opinion
that the British parliamentary system generally works badly in
the Continental countries, since it causes constantly recurring
changes in ministers, and prevents any proper continuity of state
action, and he naturally alluded to the condition of things in
France as an example.

Among other interesting people, I met the abbot of St. Paul
Outside the Walls, to whom Lord Acton, in response to my question
as to whether there was such a thing as a "learned Benedictine"
extant, had given me a letter of introduction. The good abbot
turned out to be an Irishman with some of the more interesting
peculiarities of his race; but his conversation was more vivid
than illuminating. He had reviewed various books for the
Congregation of the Index, one of these, a book which I had just
bought, being on "The Architecture of St. John Lateran." He held
a position in the Propaganda, and I was greatly struck by his
minute knowledge of affairs in the United States. The question
being then undecided as to whether a new bishopric for central
New York was to be established at Utica or Syracuse, he discussed
both places with much minute knowledge of their claims and of the
people residing in them. I put in the best word I could for
Syracuse, feeling that if a bishopric was to be established, that
was the proper place for it; and afterward I had the satisfaction
of learning that the bishop had been placed there. The abbot had
known Secretary Seward and liked him.

Leaving Rome in May, we made visits of deep interest to Assisi,
Perugia, Orvieto, and other historic towns and, arriving at
Florence again, saw something of society in that city. Count de
Gubernatis, the eminent scholar, who had just returned from
India, was eloquent in praise of the Taj Mahal, which, of all
buildings in the world, is the one I most desire to see. He
thinks that the stories regarding juggling in India have been
marvelously developed by transmission from East to West; that
growing the mango, of which so much is said, is a very poor
trick, as is also the crushing, killing, and restoration to life
of a boy under a basket; that these marvels are not at all what
the stories report them to be; that it is simply another case of
the rapid growth of legends by transmission. He said that hatred
for England remains deep in India, and that caste spirit is very
little altered, his own servant, even when very thirsty, not
daring to drink from a bottle which his master had touched.

Dining with Count Ressi at his noble villa on the slope toward
Fiesole, I noted various delicious Italian wines upon the table,
but the champagne was what is known as "Pleasant Valley Catawba,"
from Lake Keuka in western New York, which the count, during his
journey to Niagara, had found so good that he had shipped a
quantity of it to Florence.

A very interesting man I found in the Marquis Alfieri Sostegno,
vice-president of the Senate,--a man noted for his high character
and his writings. He is the founder of the new "School for
Political and Social Studies," and gave me much information
regarding it. His family is of mediaeval origin, but he is a
liberal of the Cavour sort. Preferring constitutional monarchy,
but thinking democracy inevitable, he asks, "Shall it be a
democracy like that of France, excluding all really leading men
from power, or a democracy influenced directly by its best men?"
In his school he has attempted to train young men in the
practical knowledge needed in public affairs, and hopes thus to
prepare them for the inevitable future. This college has
encountered much opposition from the local universities, but is
making its way.

Another man of the grand old Italian sort was Peruzzi, syndic of
Florence, a former associate of Cavour, and one of the leading
men of Italy. Calling for me with two other senators, he took me
to his country villa, which has been in the possession of the
family for over four hundred years, and there I dined with a very
distinguished company. Everything was large and patriarchal, but
simple. The discussions, both at table and afterward, as we sat
upon the terrace with its wonderful outlook over one of the
richest parts of Tuscany, mainly related to Italian matters. All
seemed hopeful of a reasonable solution of the clerical
difficulty. Most interesting was his wife, Donna Emilia, well
known for her brilliant powers of discussion and her beautiful
qualities as a hostess both at the Peruzzi palace in Florence and
in this villa, where one meets men of light and leading from
every part of the world.

From Florence we went on to the Italian lakes, staying especially
at Baveno, Lugano, and Cadenabbia. Especially interesting to me
were the scenes depicted in the first part of Manzoni's "Promessi
Sposi." An eminent Italian told me at this time that Manzoni
never forgave himself for his humorous delineations of the priest
Don Abbondio, who figures in these scenes after a somewhat
undignified fashion. Interesting also was a visit to the tomb of
Rosmini, with its portrait-statue by Vela, in the monastery
looking over the most beautiful part of the Lago Maggiore. Thence
by the St. Gotthard to Zurich, where we visited my old colleague,
Colonel Roth, the Swiss minister at Berlin. Very simple and
charming was his family life at Teufen. In the library I noticed
a curious shield, and upon it several swords, each with an
inscription; and, on my asking regarding them, I was told that
they were the official swords of Colonel Roth's
great-grandfather, grandfather, father, and himself, each of whom
had been Landamman of the canton. He told me that as Landamman he
presided from time to time over a popular assembly of several
thousand people; that it was a republic such as Rousseau
advocated,--all the people coming together and voting, by "yes"
and "no" and showing of hands, on the proposals of the Landamman
and his council. Driving through the canton, I found that, while
none of the people were rich, few were very poor, and that the
Catholic was much behind the Protestant part in thrift and
prosperity.

My love for historical studies interested me greatly in a visit
to the Abbey of St. Gall. The mediaeval buildings are virtually
gone, and a mass of rococo constructions have taken their place.
Gone, too, in the main, is the famous library of the middle ages;
but the eminent historian and archivist, Henne Am Rhyn, showed me
the ancient catalogue dating from the days of Charlemagne, and
one or two of the old manuscripts referred to in it, which have
done duty for more than a thousand years. Then followed my second
visit to the Engadine, reached by two days' driving in the
mountains from Coire; and during my stay at St. Moritz I made the
acquaintance of many interesting people,--among them Admiral
Irvine of the British navy. Speaking of the then recent sinking
of the Cunarder Oregon, he expressed the opinion that a squadron
of seven-hundred-ton vessels with beaks could best defend a
harbor from ironclads; and in support of this contention he cited
an experience of his own as showing the efficiency of the beak in
naval warfare. A few years before he had anchored in the Piraeus,
his ship, an ironclad, having a beak projecting from the bow, of
course under water. Noticing a Greek brig nearing him, he made
signals to her to keep well off; but the captain of the brig,
resenting this interference, and keeping straight on, endeavored
to pass, at a distance which, no doubt, seemed to him perfectly
safe, in front of the bows of the ironclad. The admiral said that
not the slightest shock was felt on board his own vessel; but the
brig sank almost immediately. She had barely grazed the end of
the beak. At another time the admiral spoke of the advance of the
British fleet, in which he held a command, upon Constantinople in
1878. The British Government supposed that the Turks had
virtually gone over to the Russians, and the first order was to
take the Turkish fortresses at Constantinople immediately; but
this order was afterward withdrawn, and the matter at issue was
settled in the ensuing European conference.

It was a pleasure to find at this Alpine resort my old friend
Story the sculptor. He gave us a comical account of the
presentation at the Vatican of Mr. George Peabody by Mr. Winthrop
of Boston. Referring to Mr. Peabody's munificence to various
institutions for aiding the needy, and especially orphans, Mr.
Winthrop, in a pleasant vein, presented his friend to Pope Pius
IX as a gentleman who, though unmarried, had hundreds of
children; whereupon the Pope, taking him literally, held up his
hands and answered, "Fi donc! fi donc!"

Our stay at St. Moritz was ended by a severe snowstorm early in
August. That was too much. I had left America mainly to escape
snow; my traveling all this distance was certainly not for the
purpose of finding it again; and so, having hugged the stove for
a day or two, I decided to return to a milder climate. Passing by
Vevey, we visited our friends the Brunnows at their beautiful
villa on the shore of Lake Leman, where my old president at the
University of Michigan, Dr. Tappan, had died, and it was with a
melancholy satisfaction that I visited his grave in the cemetery
hard by.

Stopping at Geneva over Sunday, I observed at the Cathedral of
St. Peter, Calvin's old church, that the sermon and service
carefully steered clear of the slightest Trinitarian formula, as
did the churches in Switzerland generally. Considering that
Calvin had burned Servetus in that very city for his disbelief in
the doctrine of the Trinity, this omission would seem enough to
make that stern reformer turn in his grave. Returning to Paris, I
again met Lecky, who was making a short visit to the French
capital; and, as we were breakfasting together Mme. Blaze de Bury
being present, our conversation fell on Parisian mobs. She
insisted that the studied inaction of the papal nuncio during the
Commune caused the murder of Darboy, Archbishop of Paris, who was
hated by the extreme clerical party on account of his coolness
toward infallibility and sundry other dogmas advocated by the
Jesuits. Lecky thought Lord Acton's old article in the "North
British Review" the best statement yet made on the St.
Bartholomew massacre The discussion having veered toward the
Jewish question, which was even then rising, Lecky said that
Shakspere probably never saw a Jew--that Jews were not allowed in
England in his time, the only exceptions being Queen Elizabeth's
physician and, perhaps, a few others.

During the latter part of September I started on an architectural
tour through the east of France, and was more than ever
fascinated by the beauty of all I found at Soissons, Laon,
Chalons, Troyes, and Rheims, the cathedral at the latter place
seeming even more grand than when I last saw it. I have never
been able to decide finally which is the more noble--Amiens or
Rheims; my temporary decision being generally in favor of that
one of the two which I have seen last. But I found iniquity
triumphant: the "restorers" had been at work, and had apparently
done their worst. A great scaffolding covered the superb
rose-window of the west front, perhaps the finest of its kind in
Christendom, and, in a little book published by one of the
canons, I soon learned the reason. It appears that the architect
superintending the "restoration" had dug a deep well at one
corner of one of the massive towers for the purpose of inspecting
the foundations; that he had forgotten to fill this well; and
that, during the winter, the water from the roofs, having come
down into it and frozen, had upheaved the tower at one corner,
with the result of crumbling and cracking this immense window
adjacent.

At Troyes it was hardly better. It is a city which probably never
had sixty thousand inhabitants, and yet here are four of the most
magnificent architectural monuments in Europe. But the work
wrought upon them under the pretext of "restoration" was no less
atrocious than that upon the cathedral at Rheims, and of this I
have given an example elsewhere.[13]


[13] See Chapter XXI.


Continuing my way homeward, I stopped a few days in London. From
my diary I select an account of the sermon preached in one of the
principal churches of the city by Dr. Temple,--then bishop of
London, but later archbishop of Canterbury,--before the lord
mayor, lady mayoress, and other notable people. The sermon was a
striking exhibition of plain common sense, without one particle
of what is generally known as spirituality. The text was, "Freely
ye have received, freely give," and the argument simply was that
the congregation worshiping in that old church had received all
its privileges from contributions made centuries before, and that
it was now their duty, in their turn, to contribute money for new
congregations constantly arising in the new population of London.
Of spiritual gifts to be acknowledged nothing was said. In the
afternoon took tea with Lecky, and on my referring to Earl
Russell, he spoke of him as wonderful in getting at the center of
an argument. Of Carlyle he said that he knew him in his last days
intimately, often walking with him; but that his mind failed him
sadly; that the last thing Lecky read him was a selection from
Burns's letters; and that Carlyle, when left to himself, often
toned down his harsh judgments of men. At his funeral, in
Scotland, Lecky was present, and, judging from his account, it
was one of the most dismal things ever known. Speaking of
America, Lecky said that Carlyle was really deeply attached to
Emerson; and he added that Dean Stanley, on his return from
America, told him that the best things he found there were the
private libraries, and the worst the newspapers. Lecky thought
Americans more prone to give themselves up to a purely literary
life than are the English, and cited Prescott, Irving, and
others. He spoke of "The Club," of which he is a member. It is
that to which Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Burke, and
Goldsmith belonged; its members dine together every fortnight;
one black ball excludes. Speaking of Gladstone, he thought that
he had greatly declined as a speaker of late years, and that no
one had had such power in clouding truth and obscuring a fact.

Returning to America, I again settled in my old quarters at
Cornell University, hoping to devote myself quietly to the work I
had in hand. My old home on the campus had an especial charm for
me, and I had begun to take up the occupations to which I
purposed to devote the rest of my life, when there came upon me
the greatest of all calamities--the loss of her who had been for
thirty years my main inspiration and support in all difficulties,
cares, and trials. For the time all was lost. In all calamities
hitherto I had taken refuge in work; but now there seemed no
motive for work, and at last, for a complete change of scene, I
returned to Europe, determined to give myself to the preparation
of my "History of the Warfare of Science with Theology."



CHAPTER LIV

EGYPT, GREECE, AND TURKEY--1888-1889

While under the influence of the greatest sorrow that has ever
darkened my life, there came to me a calamity of a less painful
sort, yet one of the most trying that I have ever known. A long
course of mistaken university policy, which I had done my best to
change, and the consequences of which I had especially exerted
myself to avert, at last bore its evil fruit. On the 13th of
June, 1888, I was present at the session of the Court of Appeals
at Saratoga, and there heard the argument in the suit brought to
prevent the institution from taking nearly two millions of
dollars bequeathed by Mrs. Willard Fiske. I had looked forward to
the development of the great library for which it provided as the
culminating event in my administration, and, indeed, as the
beginning of a better era in American scholarship. Never in the
history of the United States had so splendid a bequest been made
for such a purpose. But as I heard the argument I was satisfied
that our cause was lost,--and simply from the want of effective
champions; that this great opportunity for the institution which
I loved better than my life had passed from us during my
lifetime, at least; and then it was that I determined to break
from my surroundings for a time, and to seek new scenes which
might do something to change the current of my thoughts.

At the end of June, taking with me my nephew, a bright and active
college youth, I sailed for Glasgow, and, revisiting the scenes
made beautiful to me by Walter Scott, I was at last able to think
of something beside the sorrow and disappointment which had beset
me. Memorable to me still is a sermon heard at the old Church of
St. Giles, in Edinburgh. The text was, "He wist not that his face
shone," and the argument, while broad and liberal, was deeply
religious. One thought struck me forcibly. The preacher likened
theological controversies to storms on the coast which result
only in heaps of sand, while he compared religious influences to
the dew and gentle rains which beautify the earth and fructify
it.

Healing in their influences upon me were visits to the cathedral
towns between Edinburgh and London. The atmosphere of Durham,
York, Lincoln, Ely, Peterborough, aided to lift me out of my
depression. In each I stayed long enough to attend the cathedral
service and to enjoy the architecture, the music, and my
recollections of previous visits. At Lichfield Cathedral I heard
Bach's "Easter Hymn" given beautifully,--and it was needed to
make up for the sermon of a colonial bishop who, having returned
to England after a long stay in his remote diocese, was fearfully
depressed by the liberal tendencies of English theology. His
discourse was one long diatribe against the tendency in England
toward broad-churchmanship. One passage had rather a comical
effect. He told, pathetically, the story of a servant-girl
waiting on the table of the late Archbishop of Canterbury, who,
after hearing the clergymen present dealing somewhat freely with
the doctrine of the Trinity, rushed out into the passage and
recited loudly the Nicene Creed to strengthen her faith. I, too,
felt the need of doing something to strengthen mine after this
tirade, and fortunately strolled across the meadows to the little
Church of St. Chad, and there took part in a lovely "Flower
Service," ended by a very sweet, kindly sermon to the children
from the fatherly old rector of the parish. Nothing could be
better in its way, and it took the taste of the morning sermon
out of my mouth.

Of various experiences in London, the one of most interest to me
was a visit to the House of Commons, where the Irish Home Rulers
were attempting to bait Mr. Balfour, the government leader. One
after another they arose and attacked him bitterly in all the
moods and tenses, with alleged facts, insinuations, and
denunciations. Nothing could be better than his way of taking it
all. He sat quietly, looking at his enemies with a placid smile,
and then, when they were fully done, rose, and before he had
spoken five minutes his reply had the effect of a musket-shot
upon a bubble. It was evident that these patriots were hardly
taken seriously even by their own side, and, in fact, did not
take themselves seriously. I then realized as never before the
real reasons why the oratorical and other demonstrations of Irish
leaders have accomplished so little for their country.

A Liberal political meeting in Holborn also interested me. The
main speaker was the son of the Marquis of Northampton, Earl
Compton, who was standing for Parliament. His speech was all
good, but its best point was his answer to a man in the crowd who
asked him if he was prepared to vote for the abolition of the
House of Lords. That would seem a trying question to the heir of
a marquisate; but he answered instantly and calmly: "As to the
House of Lords, better try first to mend it, and, if we cannot
mend it, end it."

He was followed by a Home Ruler, Father McFadden, whose speech,
being simply anti-British rant from end to end, must have cost
many votes; and I was not surprised when, a day or two afterward,
his bishop recalled him to Ireland.

Very pleasing to me were sundry excursions. At Rugby I was
intensely interested in the scenes of Arnold's activity. He had
exercised a great influence over my own life, and a new
inspiration came amid the scenes so familiar to him, and
especially in the chapel where he preached.

Visiting some old friends in Hampshire, I drove with them to
Selborne, stood by the grave of Gilbert White, and sat in his
charming old house in that beautiful place of pilgrimage.

Most soothing in its effect upon me was a visit to Stoke Pogis
churchyard and the grave of Thomas Gray. The "Elegy" has never
since my boyhood lost its hold upon me, and my feelings of love
for its author were deepened as I read the inscription placed by
him upon his mother's monument:

"The tender mother of many children, only one of whom had the
misfortune to survive her."

A Sunday afternoon in Kensal Green cemetery, with a visit to the
graves of Thackeray, Thomas Hood, and Leigh Hunt, roused thoughts
on many things.

Somewhat later, revisiting Mr. Halliwell-Phillips's "Bungalow" at
Brighton, I met at his table the most bitter and yet one of the
most just of all critics of Carlyle whom I have ever known. He
spoke especially of Carlyle's treatment of his main historical
authorities,--many of them admirable and excellent men,--and
dwelt on the fact that Carlyle, having used the results of the
life-work of these scholars, then enjoyed pouring contempt and
ridicule over them; he also referred to Carlyle's address to the
Scotch students, in which he told them to study the patents of
nobility for the deeds which made the nobility of England great,
but did not reveal to them the fact that the expressions in these
patents were stereotyped, and the same, during many years, for
men of the most different qualities and services.

Running up to Cambridge for a day or two, and dining with Oscar
Browning at King's College, I afterward saw at his rooms a
collection of intensely interesting papers, and, among others,
reports of British spies during the Revolutionary War in America.
Very curious, among these, was a letter from the British minister
at Berlin in those days, who detailed a burglary which he had
caused in that capital in order to obtain the papers of the
American envoy and copies of American despatches. The
correspondence also showed that Frederick the Great was much
vexed at the whole matter; that the British ministry at home
thought their envoy too enterprising; that he came near
resigning; but that the whole matter finally blew over. This was
brought back to me somewhat later at a dinner of the Royal
Historical Society, where the president, Lord Aberdare, recalled
a story bearing on this matter. It was that Frederick the Great
and the British minister at his court greatly disliked each
other, and that on their meeting one day the old King asked, "Who
is this Hyder Ali who is making you British so much trouble in
India?" to which the bold Briton answered: "Sire, he is only an
old tyrant who, after robbing his neighbors, is now falling into
his dotage" ("Sire, ce n'est qu'un vieux tyran qui, apres avoir
pille ses voisins, commence a radoter").

Having made with my nephew a rapid excursion on the Continent, up
the Rhine, and as far as Munich, I returned to see him off on his
return journey to America, and then settled down for several
weeks in London. It was in the early autumn, Parliament had
adjourned, most people of note had left town, and I was left to
myself as completely as if I had been in the depths of a forest.
Looking out over Trafalgar Square from my pleasant rooms at
Morley's Hotel, with all the hurry and bustle of a great city
going on beneath my window, I was simply a hermit, and now found
myself able to resume the work which for so many years had
occupied my leisure. At the British Museum I enjoyed the
wonderful opportunities there given for investigation; and there,
too, I found an admirable helper in certain lines of work--my
friend Professor Hudson, since of Stanford University,
California.

The only place where I was at all in touch with the outside world
was at the Athenaeum Club; but the main attraction there was the
library.

Now came a sudden change in all my plans. My health having
weakened somewhat under the influence of this rather sedentary
life in the London fog, I consulted two eminent physicians, Sir
Andrew Clarke and Sir Morell Mackenzie, and each advised and even
urged me to pass the winter in Egypt. Shortly came a letter from
my friend Professor Willard Fiske, at Florence saying that he
would be glad to go with me. This was indeed a piece of good
fortune, for he had visited Egypt again and again, and was not
only the best of guides, but the most charming of companions. My
decision was instantly taken, and, having finished one or two
chapters of my book, I left London and, by the way of the St
Gotthard, soon reached Florence. Thence to Rome, Naples, and,
after a charming drive, to Castellammare, Sorrento, Amalfi, and
Salerno, whence we went by rail to Brindisi, and thence to
Alexandria, where we arrived on the 1st of January, 1889.

Now came a new chapter in my life. This journey in the East,
especially in Egypt and Greece, marked a new epoch in my
thinking. I became more and more impressed with the continuity of
historical causes, and realized more and more how easily and
naturally have grown the myths and legends which have delayed the
unbiased observation of human events and the scientific
investigation of natural laws. On a Nile boat for many weeks,
with scholars of high character, and with an excellent library
about me, I found not only a refuge from trouble and sorrow, but
a portal to new and most fascinating studies.

Nor was it only the life of old Egypt which interested me: the
scenes in modern Eastern life also gave a needed change in my
environment. At Cairo, in the bazaar in contact with the daily
life, which seemed like a chapter out of the "Arabian Nights,"
and also in the modern part of the city, in contact with the
newer life of Egypt among English and Egyptian functionaries,
there was constant stimulus to fruitful trains of thought.

For our journey of five weeks upon the Nile we had what was
called a "special steamer," the Sethi; and for our companions,
some fourteen Americans and English--all on friendly terms. Every
day came new subjects of thought, and nearly every waking moment
came some new stimulus to observation and reflection.

Deeply impressed on my mind is the account given me by Brugsch
Bey, assistant director of the Egyptian Museum, of the amazing
find of antiquities two or three years before--perhaps the most
startling discovery ever made in archaeology. It was on this
wise. The museum authorities had for some time noted that
tourists coming down the river were bringing remarkably beautiful
specimens of ancient workmanship; and this led to a suspicion
that the Arabs about the first cataract had discovered a new
tomb. For a long time nothing definite could be found; but, at
last, vigorous measures having been taken,--measures which
Brugsch Bey did not explain, but which I could easily understand
to be the time-honored method of tying up the principal
functionaries of the region to their palm-trees and whipping them
until they confessed,--the discovery was revealed, and Brugsch
Bey, having gone up the Nile to the place indicated, was taken to
what appeared to be a well; and, having been let down into it by
ropes, found himself in a sort of artificial cavern, not
beautified and adorned like the royal tombs of that region, but
roughly hewn in the rock. It was filled with sarcophagi, and at
first sight of them he was almost paralyzed. For they bore the
names of several among the most eminent early sovereigns and
members of sovereign families of the greatest days of Egypt. The
first idea which took hold of Brugsch's mind while stunned by
this revelation was that he was dreaming; but, having soon
convinced himself that he was awake, he then thought that he must
be in some state of hallucination after death--that he had
suddenly lost his life, and that his soul was wandering amid
shadows. But this, too, he soon found unlikely. Then came over
him a sense of the reality and importance of the discovery too
oppressive to be borne. He could stay in the cavern no longer;
and, having gone to the entrance of the well and signaled to the
men above, he was drawn up, and, arriving at the surface, gasped
out a command to them all to leave him. He then sat down in the
desert to secure the calm required for further thought; and,
finally, having become more composed, returned to the work, and
the mummies of Rameses the Great and of the other royal
personages were taken from their temporary home, carried down the
river, and placed in the museum at Cairo.

Another experience was of a very different sort. I had passed a
day with the Egyptian minister of public instruction, Artin
Pasha, at the great technical school of Cairo, which, under the
charge of an eminent French engineer, is training admirably a
considerable number of Egyptians in various arts applied to
industry; and at luncheon, I had noticed on the wall a portrait
of the Khedive, Tewfik Pasha, representing him as most commanding
in manner--over six feet in height, and in a gorgeous uniform. On
the evening of that day I went to dine with the Khedive, and,
entering the reception-rooms, found a large assemblage, and was
welcomed by a kindly little man with a pleasant face, and in the
plainest of uniforms, who, as I supposed, was the prime minister,
Riaz Pasha. His greeting was cordial, and we were soon in close
conversation, I giving him especially the impressions made upon
me by the school, asking questions and making suggestions. He
entered very heartily into it all, and detained me long, I
wondering constantly where the Khedive might be. Presently, the
great doors having been flung open and dinner announced, each
gentleman hastened to the lady assigned him, and all marched out
together, my thought being, "This is the Oriental way of
entertaining strangers; we shall, no doubt, find the sovereign on
his throne at the table." But, to my amazement, the first place
at the table was taken by the unassuming little man with whom I
had been talking so freely. At first I was somewhat abashed,
though the mistake was a very natural one. The fact was that I
had been completely under the impression made upon me by the
idealized portrait of the Khedive at the technical school, and
the thought had never entered my mind that the real Khedive might
be physically far inferior to the ideal. But no harm was done;
for, after dinner, he came to me again and renewed the
conversation with especial cordiality. I also had a long talk
with the real Riaz, and found him intelligent and broad-minded.
One thing he said amused me. It was that he especially liked to
welcome Americans, because they were not seeking to exploit the
country.

In Cairo and Alexandria I enjoyed meeting the American and
English missionaries,--among them my old Yale friend Dr. Henry
Jessup, who has for so many years rendered admirable services at
Beyrout; but the most noteworthy thing was a lecture which I
heard from Dr. Grant, an eminent Presbyterian physician connected
with the mission. It was on the subject of the Egyptian
Trinities. The doctor explained them, as well as the Trimurtis of
India, by expressing his belief that when the Almighty came down
in the cool of the day to refresh himself by walking and talking
with Adam in the garden of Eden, he revealed to the man he had
made some of the great mysteries of the divine existence, and
that these had "leaked out" to men who took them into other
countries, and there taught them!

I also found at Cairo another especially interesting man of a
very different sort, an Armenian, Mr. Nimr; and, on visiting him,
was amazed to find in his library a large collection of English
and French books, scientific and literary--among them the "New
York Scientific Monthly" containing my own articles, which he had
done me the honor to read. I found that he had been, at an
earlier period, a professor at the college established by the
American Protestant missionaries at Beyrout; but that he and
several others who had come to adopt the Darwinian hypothesis
were on that account turned out of their situations, and that he
had taken refuge in Cairo where he was publishing, in Arabic, a
daily newspaper a weekly literary magazine, and a monthly
scientific journal. I was much struck by one remark of his--which
was, that he was doing his best to promote the interests of
Freemasonry in the East, as the only means of bringing Christians
and Mohammedans together under the same roof for mutual help,
with the feeling that they were children of the same God. He told
me that the worst opposition he had met came from a very
excellent Protestant missionary, who had publicly insisted that
the God worshiped by the Mohammedans was not the God worshiped by
Christians. This reminded me of a sermon which one of my friends
heard in Strasburg Cathedral in which a priest, reproving his
Catholic hearers for entering into any relations with
Protestants, especially opposed the idea that they worshiped the
same God, and insisted that the God of the Catholics and the God
of the Protestants are two different beings.

Among the things which gave me a real enjoyment at this period,
and aided to revive my interest in the world about me, was the
Saracenic architecture of Cairo and its neighborhood. Nothing
could be, in its way, more beautiful. I had never before realized
how much beauty is obtainable under the limitations of
Mohammedanism; the exquisite tracery and fretwork of the
Saracenic period were a constant joy to me, and happily, as there
had been no "restorers," everything remained as it had left the
hands of the men of genius who created it.

In this older architecture a thousand things interested me; but
the greatest effect was produced by the tombs at Beni Hassan, as
showing the historical linking together of human ideas both in
art and science--the development of one period out of another. Up
to the time of my seeing them I had supposed that the Doric
architecture of Greece, and especially the Doric column, was of
Greek creation; now I saw the proof that it was evolved out of an
earlier form upon the lower Nile, which had itself, doubtless,
been developed out of forms yet earlier.

At one thing I was especially surprised. I found that, excellent
as are our missionaries in those regions, their work has not at
all been what those who send them have supposed. No Mohammedan
converts are made. Indeed, should the good missionaries at Cairo
wake up some fine morning in the spacious quarters for which they
are so largely indebted to the late Khedive Ismail, and find that
they had converted a Mohammedan, they would be filled with
consternation. They would possibly be driven from the country.
The real Mohammedan cannot be converted. There were, indeed, a
few persons, here and there, claiming to be converted Jews or
Mohammedans; but we were always warned against them, even by
Christians, as far less trustworthy than those who were true to
their original faith. Whatever good is done by the missionaries
is done through their schools, to which come many children of the
Copts, with perhaps a certain number of Mohammedans desirous of
learning English; and the greatest of American missionary
successes is doubtless Robert College at Constantinople, which
has certainly done a very noble work among the more gifted young
men of the Christian populations in the Turkish Empire.

Several times I attended service in the United Presbyterian
church at Cairo, and found it hard, unattractive, and little
likely to influence any considerable number of persons, whether
Mohammedan or Christian. It was evident that the preachers, as a
rule, were entirely out of the current of modern theological and
religious thought, and that even the best and noblest of them
represented ideas no longer held by their leading coreligionists
in the countries from which they came.

After a stay of three months in Egypt, we left Alexandria for
Athens, where I enjoyed, during a considerable stay, the
advantages of the library at the American School of Archaeology,
and the companionship of my friend Professor Waldstein, now of
Cambridge University. Very delightful also were excursions with
my old Yale companion, Walker Fearne, our minister in Greece, and
his charming family, to the Acropolis, the Theater of Dionysus,
the Bay of Salamis, Megara, and other places of interest. An
especial advantage we had in the companionship of Professor
Mahaffy of Trinity College, Dublin, whose comments on all these
places were most suggestive.

Very interesting to me was an interview with Tricoupis, the prime
minister of the kingdom. His talk on the condition of things in
Greece was that of a broad-minded statesman. Speaking of the
relations of the Greek Church to the state, he said that the
church had kept the language and the nationality of the people
alive during the Turkish occupation, but that, in spite of its
services, it had never been allowed to domineer over the country
politically; he dwelt on the importance of pushing railway
communications into Europe, and lamented the obstacles thrown in
their way by Turkey. His reminiscences of Mr. Buchanan and Mr.
Dallas, whom he had formerly known at the Court of St. James
during his stay as minister in London, were especially
interesting.

The most important "function" I saw was the solemn "Te Deum" at
the cathedral on the anniversary of Greek independence, the King,
Queen, and court being present, but I was less impressed by their
devotion than by the irreverence of a considerable part of the
audience, who, at the close of the service, walked about in the
church with their hats on their heads. As to the priests who
swarmed about us in their Byzantine costumes and long hair, I was
reminded of a sententious Moslem remark regarding them: "Much
hair, little brains."

On Good Friday I visited Mars Hill and mused for an hour over
what has come from the sermon once preached there.

Toward the end of April we left the Piraeus, and, after passing
through the aegean on a most beautiful day, arrived in
Constantinople, where I made the acquaintance of Mr. Straus, our
minister at that capital. Thus began a friendship which I have
ever since greatly prized. Mr. Straus introduced me to two of the
most interesting men I have ever met; the first of these being
Hamdi Bey, director of the Imperial Museum at Constantinople.
Meeting him at Mr. Straus's table and in his own house, I heard
him discuss sundry questions relating to modern art--better, in
some respects, than any other person I have ever known. Never
have I heard more admirably discriminating judgments upon various
modern schools of painting than those which he then gave me.

The other person to whom Mr. Straus introduced me was the British
ambassador, Sir William White, who was very hospitable, and
revealed to me much in life and literature. One thing especially
surprised me--namely, that though a Roman Catholic, he had a
great admiration for Renan's writings, of which he was a constant
reader. Here, too, I renewed my acquaintance with various members
of the diplomatic corps whom I had met elsewhere. Curious was an
evening visit to the Russian Embassy, Mrs. Straus being carried
in a sedan-chair, her husband walking beside her in evening dress
at one door, I at the other, and a kavass, with drawn sword,
marching at the head of the procession.

While the Mohammedan history revealed in Constantinople gave me
frequent subjects of thought, I was more constantly carried back
to the Byzantine period. For there was the Church of St. Sophia!
No edifice has ever impressed me more; indeed, in many respects,
none has ever impressed me so much. Bearing in mind its origin,
its history, and its architecture, it is doubtless the most
interesting church in the world. Though smaller than St. Peter's
at Rome, it is vastly more impressive. Taking into account the
view as one enters, embracing the lofty vaults retreating on all
sides, the arches springing above our heads, and, crowning all,
the dome, which opens fully upon the sight immediately upon
passing the door way, it is certainly the most overpowering of
Christian churches. Gibbon's pictures thronged upon me, and very
vividly, as I visited the ground where formerly stood the Great
Circus, and noted the remains of monuments where the "Blues" and
"Greens" convulsed the city with their bloody faction fights, and
where squabbling Christian sects prepared the way for that
Turkish dominion which has now burdened this weary earth for more
than five hundred years.

From Constantinople, by Buda-Pesth, Vienna, Munich, Ulm, and
Frankfort-on-the-Main, to Paris, stopping in each of these
cities, mainly for book-hunting. At Munich I spent considerable
time in the Royal Library, where various rare works relating to
the bearing of theology on civilization were placed at my
disposal; and at Frankfort added largely to my
library--especially monographs on Egypt and illuminated
manuscripts of the middle ages.

At Paris the Exposition of 1889 was in full blast. As to the
American exhibit, there were some things to be lamented. Our
"commission of experts" was in part remarkably well chosen; among
them being a number of the best men in their departments that
America has produced; but, on the other hand, there were some who
had evidently been foisted upon the President by politicians in
remote States--so-called "experts," yet as unfit as it is
possible to conceive any human beings to be. One of these, who
was responsible for one of the most important American
departments, was utterly helpless. Day in and day out, he sat in
a kind of daze at the American headquarters, doing
nothing--indeed, evidently incapable of doing anything. One or
two of his associates, as well as sundry Frenchmen, asked me to
aid in getting his department into some order; and this, though
greatly pressed for time, I did,--devoting to the task several
days which I could ill afford.

Very happy was I over one improvement which the United States had
made since the former exposition, at which I had myself been a
commissioner. Then all lamented and apologized for the condition
of the American Art Gallery; now there was no need either of
lamentation or apology, for there, in all their beauty, were
portraits by Sargent, and Gari Melchers's picture of "A Communion
Day in Holland"--the latter touching the deep places of the human
heart. As I was sitting before it one day, an English gentleman
came with his wife and sat beside me. Presently I heard him say:
"Of all the pictures in the entire exposition, this takes the
strongest hold upon me." Many other American pictures were also
objects of pride to us. I found our minister, Mr. Whitelaw Reid,
very hospitable, and at his house became acquainted with various
interesting Americans. At President Carnot's reception at the
palace of the Elysee I also met several personages worth knowing,
and among them, to my great satisfaction, Senator John Sherman.

During this stay in Paris I took part in two commemorations.
First came the Fourth of July, when, in obedience to the old
custom which I had known so well in my student days, the American
colony visited the cemetery of the Rue Picpus and laid wreaths
upon the tomb of Lafayette,--the American band performing a
dirge, and our marines on duty firing a farewell volley. It was
in every way a warm and hearty tribute. A week later was the
unveiling of the statue of Camille Desmoulins in the garden of
the Palais Royal,--this being the one-hundredth anniversary of
the day on which, in that garden,--and, indeed, on that spot,
before the Cafe Foy,--he had roused the mob which destroyed the
Bastille and begun the whirlwind which finally swept away so much
and so many, including himself and his beloved Lucille. Poor
Camille, orating, gesticulating, and looking for a new heaven and
a new earth, was one of the little great men so important at the
beginning of revolutions and so insignificant afterward. It was
evident that, in spite of the old legends regarding him, the
French had ceased to care for him; I was surprised at the small
number present, and at the languid interest even of these.

Among my most delightful reminiscences of this period are my
walks and talks with my old Yale and Paris student friend of
nearly forty years before, Randall Gibson, who, having been a
general in the Confederate service, was now a United States
senator from Louisiana. Revisiting our old haunts, especially the
Sorbonne, the Pantheon, St. Sulpice, and other monuments of the
Latin Quarter, we spoke much of days gone by, he giving me most
interesting reminiscences of our Civil War period as seen from
the Southern side. One or two of the things he told me are
especially fastened in my mind. The first was that as he sat with
other officers over the camp-fire night after night, discussing
the war and their hopes regarding the future, all agreed that
when the Confederacy obtained its independence there should be no
"right of secession" in it. But what interested me most was the
fact that he, a Democratic senator of the United States,
absolutely detested Thomas Jefferson, and, above all things, for
the reason that he considered Jefferson the real source of the
extreme doctrine of State sovereignty. Gibson was a typical
Kentucky Whig who, in the Civil War, went with the South from the
force of family connections, friendships, social relations, and
the like, but who remained, in his heart of hearts, from first to
last, deeply attached to the Union.

Leaving Paris, we went together to Homburg, and there met Mr.
Henry S. Sanford, our minister at Belgium during the Civil War,
one of Secretary Seward's foremost agents on the European
continent at that period. His accounts of matters at that time,
especially of the doings of sundry emissaries of the United
States, were all of them interesting, and some of them
exceedingly amusing. At Homburg, too, I found my successor in the
legation at Berlin, Mr. Pendleton, who, though his mind remained
clear, was slowly dying of paralysis.

Thence with Gibson and Sanford down the Rhine to Mr. Sanford's
country-seat in Belgium. It was a most beautiful place, a lordly
chateau, superbly built, fitted, and furnished, ample for the
accommodation of a score of guests, and yet the rent he paid for
it was but six hundred dollars a year. It had been built by a
prince at such cost that he himself could not afford to live in
it, and was obliged to rent it for what he could get. Thence we
made our way to London and New York.



CHAPTER LV

MEXICO, CALIFORNIA, SCANDINAVIA, RUSSIA, ITALY, LONDON, AND
BERLIN--1892-1897

Arriving at New York in the autumn of 1889, I was soon settled at
my accustomed work in the university,--devoting myself to new
chapters of my book and to sundry courses of lectures. Early in
the following year I began a course before the University of
Pennsylvania; and my stay in Philadelphia was rendered very
agreeable by various new acquaintances. Interesting to me was the
Roman Catholic archbishop, Dr. Ryan. Dining in his company, I
referred admiringly to his cathedral, which I had recently
visited, but spoke of what seemed to me the defective mode of
placing the dome upon the building; whereupon he made one of the
most tolerable Latin puns I have ever heard, saying that during
the construction of both the nave and the dome his predecessors
were hampered by lack of money,--that, in fact, they were greatly
troubled by the res angustae domi. Interesting also was
attendance upon the conference at Lake Mohonk, which brought
together a large body of leading men from all parts of the
country to discuss the best methods of dealing with questions
relating to the freedmen and Indians. The president of the
conference, Mr. Hayes, formerly President of the United States, I
had known well in former days, when I served under him as
minister to Germany, and the high opinion I had then formed of
him was increased as I heard him discuss the main questions
before the conference. It was the fashion at one time among
blackguards and cynics of both parties to sneer at him, and this,
doubtless, produced some effect on the popular mind; but nothing
could be more unjust: rarely have I met a man in our own or any
other country who has impressed me more by the qualities which a
true American should most desire in a President of the United
States; he had what our country needs most in our public
men--sobriety of judgment united to the power of calm, strong
statement.

The two following years, 1890-1891, were passed mainly at
Cornell, though with excursions to various other institutions
where I had been asked to give addresses or lectures; but in
February of 1892, having been invited to lecture at Stanford
University in California, I accepted an invitation from Mr.
Andrew Carnegie to become one of the guests going in his car to
the Pacific coast by way of Mexico. Our party of eight, provided
with cook, servants, and every comfort, traveled altogether more
than twelve thousand miles--first through the Central and
Southern States of the Union, thence to the city of Mexico and
beyond, then by a series of zigzag excursions from lower
California to the northern limits of Oregon and Washington, and
finally through the Rocky Mountains and the canons of Colorado to
Salt Lake City and Denver. Thence my companions went East and I
returned alone to Stanford to give my lectures. During this long
excursion I met many men who greatly interested me, and
especially old students of mine whom I found everywhere doing
manfully the work for which Cornell had aided to fit them. Never
have I felt more fully repaid for any labor and care I have ever
given to the founding and development of the university. Arriving
in the city of Mexico, I said to myself, "Here certainly I shall
not meet any more of my old Cornellians"; but hardly was I
settled in my room when a card came up from one of them, and I
soon learned that he was doing honor to the Sibley College of the
university by superintending the erection of the largest
printing-press which had ever been brought into Mexico. The
Mexican capital interested me greatly. The cathedral, which, up
to that time, I had supposed to be in a debased rococo style, I
found to be of a simple, noble Renaissance character, and of real
dignity. Being presented to the President, Porfirio Diaz, I was
greatly impressed by his quiet strength and self-possession, and
then understood for the first time what had wrought so beneficent
a change in his country. His ministers also impressed me
favorably, though they were evidently overshadowed by so great a
personality. One detail struck me as curious: the room in which
the President received us at the palace was hung round with satin
draperies stamped with the crown and cipher of his
predecessor--the ill-fated Emperor Maximilian.

California was a great revelation to me. We arrived just at the
full outburst of spring, and seemed to have alighted upon a new
planet. Strong and good men I found there, building up every sort
of worthy enterprise, and especially their two noble
universities, one of which was almost entirely officered by
Cornell graduates. To this institution I was attached by a
special tie. At various times the founders, Governor and Mrs.
Stanford, had consulted me on problems arising in its
development; they had twice visited me at Cornell for the purpose
of more full discussion, and at the latter of the two visits had
urged me to accept its presidency. This I had felt obliged to
decline. I said to them that the best years of my life had been
devoted to building up two universities,--Michigan and
Cornell,--and that not all the treasures of the Pacific coast
would tempt me to begin with another; that this feeling was not
due to a wish to evade any duty, but to a conviction that my work
of that sort was done, and that there were others who could
continue it far better than I. It was after this conversation
that, on their asking whether there was any one suitable within
my acquaintance, I answered, "Go to the University of Indiana;
there you will find the president, an old student of mine, David
Starr Jordan, one of the leading scientific men of the country,
possessed of a most charming power of literary expression, with a
remarkable ability in organization, and blessed with good, sound
sense. Call him." They took my advice, called Dr. Jordan, and I
found him at the university. My three weeks' stay interested me
more and more. Evening after evening I walked through the
cloisters of the great quadrangle, admiring the solidity, beauty,
and admirable arrangement of the buildings, and enjoying their
lovely surroundings and the whole charm of that California
atmosphere.

The buildings, in simplicity, beauty, and fitness, far surpassed
any others which had at that time been erected for university
purposes in the United States; and I feel sure that when the
entire plan is carried out, not even Oxford or Cambridge will
have anything more beautiful. President Jordan had more than
fulfilled my prophecies, and it was an inspiration to see at
their daily work the faculty he had called together. The students
also greatly interested me. When it was first noised abroad that
Senator Stanford was to found a new university in California,
sundry Eastern men took a sneering tone and said, "What will it
find to do? The young men on the Pacific coast who are as yet fit
to receive the advantages of a university are very few; the State
University of California at Berkeley is already languishing for
want of students." The weakness of these views is seen in the
fact that, at this hour, each of these universities has nearly
three thousand undergraduates. The erection of Stanford has given
an impetus to the State University, and both are doing noble
work, not only for the Pacific coast, but for the whole country.
One of the most noteworthy things in the history of American
university education thus far is the fact that the university
buildings erected by boards of trustees in all parts of the
country have, almost without exception, proved to be mere jumbles
of mean materials in incongruous styles; but to this rule there
have been, mainly, two noble exceptions: one in the buildings of
the University of Virginia, planned and executed under the eye of
Thomas Jefferson, and the other in these buildings at Palo Alto,
planned and executed under the direction of Governor and Mrs.
Stanford. These two groups, one in Virginia and one in
California, with, perhaps, the new university buildings at
Philadelphia and Chicago, are almost the only homes of learning
in the United States which are really satisfactory from an
architectural point of view.

The "City of the Saints," which I saw on my way, had much
interest for me. I collected while there everything possible in
the way of publications bearing on Mormonism, beginning with a
copy of the original edition of the "Book of Mormon"; but nothing
that I could find in any of these publications indicated any
considerable intellectual development, as yet.

More encouraging was a rapid visit, on my way home, to the
Chicago Exposition buildings, which, though not yet fully
completed, were very beautiful; and still more pleasure came from
a visit to the new University of Chicago, which was evidently
beginning a most important work for American civilization. Its
whole plan is remarkably well conceived, and with the means that
it is rapidly accumulating, due to the public spirit of its main
benefactor and a multitude of others hardly second to him in the
importance of their gifts, it cannot fail to exercise a great
influence, especially throughout the Northwestern States. First
of all, it will do much to lift the city in which it stands out
of its crude materialism into something higher and better. It is
a pleasure to note that its buildings are worthy of it: they seem
likely to form a fourth in the series of fit homes for great
centers of advanced education in the United States,--Virginia,
Stanford, and the University of Pennsylvania being the others.

Having returned to Cornell, I went on quietly with my work until
autumn, when, to my surprise, I received notice that the
President had appointed me minister to St. Petersburg; and on the
4th of November I arrived at my post in that capital. Of my
experience as minister I have spoken elsewhere, but have given no
account of two journeys which interested me at that period. The
first of these was in the Scandinavian countries. The voyage of a
day and night across the Baltic through the Aland Islands was
like a dream, the northern twilight making night more beautiful
than day, and the approach to the Swedish capital being, next to
the approaches to Constantinople and to New York, the most
beautiful I know.

Very instructive to me was a visit to Upsala--especially to the
university and cathedral. As to the former, the "Codex of
Ulfilas," in the library, which I had long desired to see,
especially interested me; and visits to the houses of the various
"nations" showed me that out of the social needs of Swedish
students in the middle ages had been developed something closely
akin to the fraternity houses which similar needs have developed
in our time at American universities. The cathedral, containing
the remains of Gustavus Vasa and Linnaeus, was fruitful in
suggestions. By a curious coincidence I was at that time
finishing my chapter entitled "From Creation to Evolution," and
had been paying special attention to the ancient and mediaeval
conceptions of the creation of the world as a work done by an
individual in human form, laboring with his hands during six
days, and taking needed rest on the seventh; and here I found, at
the side entrance of the cathedral, a delightfully naive
mediaeval representation of the whole process,--a series of
medallions representing the Almighty toiling like an artisan on
each of the six days and reposing, evidently very weary, on the
seventh.

The journey across Sweden, through the canals and lakes, was very
restful. At Christiania Mr. Gade, the American consul, who had
served our country so long and so honorably in that city, took me
under his guidance during various interesting excursions about
the fiords. At Gothenburg I took pains to obtain information
regarding their system of dealing with the sale of intoxicating
liquors, and became satisfied that it is, on the whole, the best
solution of the problem ever obtained. The whole old system of
saloons, gin-shops, and the like, with their allurements to the
drinking of adulterated alcohol, had been swept away, and in its
place the government had given to a corporation the privilege of
selling pure liquors in a restricted number of decent shops,
under carefully devised limitations. First, the liquors must be
fully tested for purity; secondly, none could be sold to persons
already under the influence of drink; thirdly, no intoxicant
could be sold without something to eat with it, the effects of
alcohol upon the system being thus mitigated. These and other
restrictions had reduced the drink evil, as I was assured, to a
minimum. But the most far-reaching provision in the whole system
was that the company which enjoyed the monopoly of this trade was
not allowed to declare a dividend greater than, I believe, six
per cent.; everything realized above this going into the public
treasury, mainly for charitable purposes. The result of this
restriction of profits was that no person employed in selling
ardent spirits was under the slightest temptation to attract
customers. Each of these sellers was a salaried official and knew
that his place depended on his adhering to the law which forbade
him to sell to any person already under the influence of liquor,
or to do anything to increase his sales; and the whole motive for
making men drunkards was thus taken away.

I was assured by both the American and British consuls, as well
as by most reputable citizens, that this system had greatly
diminished intemperance. Unfortunately, since that time, fanatics
have obtained control, and have passed an entirely "prohibitory"
law, with the result, as I understand, that the community is now
discovering that prohibition does not prohibit, and that the
worst kinds of liquors are again sold by men whose main motive is
to sell as much as possible.

The most attractive feature in my visit to Norway was Throndheim.
With my passion for Gothic architecture, the beautiful little
cathedral, which the authorities were restoring Judiciously, was
a delight, and it was all the more interesting as containing one
of those curiosities of human civilization which have now become
rare. In one corner of the edifice is a "holy well," the
pilgrimages to which in the middle ages were, no doubt, a main
source of the wealth of the establishment. The attendant shows,
in the stonework close to the well, the end of a tube coming from
the upper part of the cathedral; and through this tube pious
monks in the middle ages no doubt spoke oracular words calculated
to enhance the authority of the saint presiding over the place.
It was the same sort of thing which one sees in the Temple of
Isis at Pompeii, and the zeal which created it was no doubt the
same that to-day originates the sacred fire which always comes
down from heaven on Easter day into the Greek church at
Jerusalem, the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius in the
cathedral at Naples, and sundry camp-meeting utterances and
actions in the United States.

Sweden and Norway struck me as possessing, in some respects, the
most satisfactory civilization of modern times. With a
monarchical figurehead, they are really a republic. Here is no
overbearing plutocracy, no squalid poverty, an excellent system
of education, liberal and practical, from the local school to the
university, a population, to all appearance, healthy, thrifty,
and comfortable.

And yet here, as in other parts of the world, the resources of
human folly are illimitable. A large party in Norway urges
secession from Sweden, and both remain divided from Denmark,
though the three are, to all intents and purposes, of the same
race, religion, language, and early historical traditions. And
close beside them looms up, more and more portentous, the Russian
colossus, which, having trampled Swedish Finland under its feet,
is looking across the Scandinavian peninsula toward the good
harbors of Norway, just opposite Great Britain. Russia has
declared the right of her one hundred and twenty millions of
people to an ice-free port on the Pacific; why shall she not
assert, with equal cogency, the right of these millions to an
ice-free port on the Atlantic? Why should not these millions own
a railway across Scandinavia, and a suitable territory along the
line; and then, logically, all the territory north, and as much
as she needs of the territory south of the line? The northern
and, to some extent, the middle regions of Norway and Sweden
would thus come under the sway of a czar in St. Petersburg,
represented by some governor-general like those who have been
trying to show to the Scandinavians of Finland that newspapers
are useless, petitions inadmissible, constitutions a fetish,
banishment a blessing, and the use of their native language a
superfluity. The only sad thing in this fair prospect is that it
is not the objurgatory Bjornson, the philosophic Ibsen, and the
impulsive Nansen, with their compatriots, now groaning under what
they are pleased to call "Swedish tyranny," who would enjoy this
Russian liberty, but their children, and their children's
children.

At Copenhagen I was especially attracted by the Ethnographic
Museum, which, by its display of the gradual uplifting of
Scandinavian humanity from prehistoric times, has so strongly
aided in enforcing on the world the scientific doctrine of the
"rise of man," and in bringing to naught the theological doctrine
of the "fall of man."

A short stay at Moscow added to my Russian points of view, it
being my second visit after an interval of nearly forty years.
Although the city had spread largely, there was very little
evidence of real progress: everywhere were filth, fetishism,
beggary, and reaction. The monument to Alexander II, the great
emancipator, stood in the Kremlin, half finished; it has since, I
am glad to learn, been completed; but this has only been after
long and slothful delays, and the statue in St. Petersburg has
not even been begun. It is well understood that one cause of this
delay has been the reluctance of the reactionary leaders in the
empire to glorify so radical a movement as the emancipation of
the serfs.

I had one curious experience of Muscovite ideas of trade. Moscow
is one of the main centers for the manufacture of the church
bells in which the Russian peasant takes such delight; and, being
much interested in campanology, I visited several of the
principal foundries, and was delighted with the size and
workmanship of many specimens. Walking one morning to the
Kremlin, I saw at the agency of one of these establishments a
bell weighing about two hundred and fifty pounds, most
exquisitely wrought, and such a beautiful example of the best
that Russians can do in this respect that I went in and asked the
price of it. The price being named, I said that I would take it.
Thereupon consternation was evident in the establishment, and
presently the head of the concern said to me that they were not
sure that they wished to sell it. But I said, "You HAVE sold it;
I asked you what your price was, you told me, and I have bought
it." To this he demurred, and finally refused altogether to sell
it. On going out, my guide informed me that I had made a mistake;
that I was myself the cause of the whole trouble; that if I had
offered half the price named for the bell I should have secured
it for two thirds; but that, as I had offered the entire price,
the people in the shop had jumped to the conclusion that it must
be worth more than they had supposed, that I had detected values
in it which they had not realized, and that it was their duty to
make me pay more for it than the price they had asked. The result
was that, a few weeks afterward, a compromise having been made, I
bought it and sent it to the library of Cornell University, where
it is now both useful and ornamental.

The most interesting feature of this stay in Moscow was my
intercourse with Tolstoi, and to this I have devoted a separate
chapter.[14]


[14] See Chapter XXXVII.


One more experience may be noted. In coming and going on the
Moscow railway I found, as in other parts of Europe, that
governmental control of railways does not at all mean better
accommodations or lower fares than when such works are under
individual control. The prices for travel, as well as for
sleeping-berths, were much higher on these lines, owned by the
government, than on any of our main trunk-lines in America, which
are controlled by private corporations, and the accommodations
were never of a high order, and sometimes intolerable.

During this stay in Russia my sympathies were enlisted for
Finland; but on this subject I have spoken fully elsewhere.[15]


[15] See Chapter XXXIV.


Having resigned my position at St. Petersburg in October of 1894,
the first use I made of my liberty was to go with my family to
Italy for the winter; and several months were passed at Florence,
where I revised and finished the book which had been preparing
during twenty years. Then came a rapid run to Rome and through
southern Italy, my old haunts at Castellammare, Sorrento, and
Amalfi being revisited, and sundry new excursions made. Among
these last was one to Palermo, where I visited the Church of St.
Josaphat. This edifice greatly interested me as a Christian
church erected in honor of a Christian saint who was none other
than Buddha. The manner in which the founder of that great
world-religion which preceded our own was converted into a
Christian saint and solemnly proclaimed as such by a long series
of popes, from Sixtus V to Pius IX, inclusive, by virtue of their
infallibility in all matters relating to faith and morals, is one
of the most curious and instructive things in all history.[16]


[16] A full account of this conversion of Buddha (Bodisat) into
St. Josaphat is given, with authorities, etc. in my "History of
the Warfare of Science with Theology," Vol. II, pp. 381 et seq.


At first I had some difficulty in finding this church; but,
finally, having made the acquaintance of an eminent scholar, the
Commendatore Marzo, canon of the Cappella Palatina and director
of the National Library at Palermo he kindly took me to the
place. Over the entrance were the words, "Divo Josaphat"; within,
occupying one of the places of highest honor, was an altar to the
saint, and above it a statue representing him as a young prince
wearing a crown and holding a crucifix. By permission of the
authorities I was allowed to send a photographer, who took a
negative for me. A remark of the Commendatore Marzo upon the
subject pleased me much. When, one day, after showing me the
treasures of his great library, he was dining with me, and I
pressed him for particulars regarding St. Josaphat, he answered,
"He cannot be the Jehoshaphat of the Old Testament, for he is
represented as a very young man, and contemplating a crucifix: e
molto misterioso." It was, after all, not so very mysterious; for
in these later days, now that the "Life of Barlaam and Josaphat,"
which dates from monks of the sixth or seventh century, has been
compared with the "Life of Buddha," certainly written before the
Christian era, the constant coincidence in details, and even in
phrases, puts it beyond the slightest doubt that St. Josaphat and
Buddha are one and the same person.

Very suggestive to thought was a visit to the wonderful cathedral
of Monreale, above Palermo; for here, at this southern extreme of
Europe, I found a conception of the Almighty as an enlarged human
being, subject to human weakness, identical with that shown in
the sculptures upon the cathedral of Upsala, at the extreme north
of Europe. The whole interior of Monreale Cathedral is covered
with a vast sheet of mosaics dating from about the twelfth
century, and in one series of these, representing the creation,
the Almighty is shown as working, day after day, like an artisan,
and finally, on the seventh day, as "resting,"--seated in almost
the exact attitude of the "weary Mercury" of classic sculpture,
with a marked expression of fatigue upon his countenance and in
the whole disposition of his body.[17]


[17] I have given a more full discussion of this subject in my
"History of the Warfare of Science with Theology," Vol. I, p. 3.


During this journey, having revisited Orvieto, Perugia, and
Assisi, I returned to Florence, and again enjoyed the society of
my old friends, Professor Willard Fiske, Professor Villari, with
his accomplished wife, and Judge Stallo, former minister of the
United States in Rome.

The great event of this stay was an earthquake. Seated on a
pleasant April evening in my rooms at the house built by Adolphus
Trollope, near the Piazza dell' Independenza, I heard what seemed
at first the rising of a storm; then the rushing of a mighty
wind; then, as it grew stronger, apparently the gallop of a corps
of cavalry in the neighboring avenue; but, almost instantly, it
seemed to change into the onrush of a corps of artillery, and, a
moment later, to strike the house, lifting its foundations as if
by some mighty hand, and swaying it to and fro, everything
creaking, groaning, rattling, and seeming likely to fall in upon
us. This movement to and fro, with crashing and screaming inside
and outside the house, continued, as it seemed to me, about
twenty minutes--as a matter of fact, it lasted hardly seven
seconds; but certainly it was the longest seven seconds I have
ever known. At the first uplift of the seismic wave my wife and I
rose from our seats, I saying, "Stand perfectly still."
Thenceforward, not a word was uttered by either of us until all
was over; but many thoughts came,--the dominant feeling being a
sense of our helplessness in the presence of the great powers of
nature. Neither of us had any hope of escaping alive; but we
calmly accepted the inevitable, thinking each moment would be,
the last. As I look back, our resignation and perfect quiet still
surprise me. That room, at the corner of the Villino Trollope,
which an ill-founded legend makes the place where George Eliot
wrote "Romola," is to me sacred, as the place where we two passed
"from death unto life."

Nearly all that night we remained near the doors of the house,
ready to escape any new shocks; but only one or two came, and
those very light. Crowds of the population remained out of doors,
many dwellers in hotels taking refuge in carriages and cabs, and
staying in them through the night.

Next morning I walked forth to find what had happened,--first to
the cathedral, to see if anything was left of Giotto's tower and
Brunelleschi's dome, and, to my great joy, found them standing;
but, as I entered the vast building, I saw one of the enormous
iron bars which take the thrust of the wide arches of the nave
pulled apart and broken as if it had been pack-thread; there were
also a few cracks in one of the piers supporting the dome, but
all else was as before.

At the Palazzo Strozzi a crowd of people were examining sundry
crevices which had been made in its mighty walls: and at various
villas in the neighborhood, especially those on the road to San
Miniato, I found that the damage had been much worse. A part of
the tower of one villa, occupied by an English lady of literary
distinction, had been thrown down, crashing directly through one
of the upper rooms, but causing no loss of life; the villa of
Judge Stallo, at the Porta Romana, was so wrecked that he was
obliged to leave it; and in the house of another friend a heavy
German stove on the upper floor, having been thrown over, had
come down through the ceiling of the main parlor, crashing
through the grand piano, and thence into the cellar, without
injury to any person. One of the professors whom I afterward met
told me that he was giving a dinner-party when, suddenly, the
house was lifted and shaken to and fro, the chandeliers swinging,
broken glass crashing, and the ladies screaming, and, in a
moment, a portion of the outer wall gave way, but fortunately
fell outward, so that the guests scrambled forth over the ruins,
and passed the night in the garden. Perhaps the worst damage was
wrought at the Convent of the Certosa, where some of the
beautiful old work was irreparably injured.

It was very difficult next morning to get any real information
from the newspapers. They claimed that but three persons lost
their lives in the city: it was clearly thought best to minimize
the damage done, lest the stream of travel might be scared away.
I remarked at the time that we should never know fully what had
occurred until we received the American papers; and, curiously
enough, several weeks afterward a Californian showed me a very
full and minute account of the whole calamity, with careful
details, given in the telegraphic reports of a San Francisco
newspaper on the very morning after the earthquake.

On the way to America I passed a short time, during the month of
June, in London, meeting various interesting people, a most
pleasant occasion to me being a dinner given by Mr. Bayard, the
American minister, at which I met my classmate Wayne MacVeagh,
formerly attorney-general of the United States, minister to
Constantinople and ambassador to Rome, full, as usual, of
interesting reminiscence and witty suggestion. Very interesting
also to me was a talk with Mr. Holman Hunt, the eminent
pre-Raphaelite artist. He told me much of Tennyson dwelling upon
his morbid fear that people would stare at him. He also gave an
account of his meeting with Ruskin at Venice, when Ruskin took
Hunt to task for not having come to see him more frequently in
London; to which Hunt replied that, for one reason, he was very
busy, and that, for another, he did not wish to be classed with
the toadies who swarmed about Ruskin. Whereupon Ruskin said that
Hunt was right regarding the character of most of the people
about him. Hunt also spoke of the ill treatment of his beautiful
picture, "The Light of the World." From him, or from another
source about that time, I learned that formerly the Keble College
people had made much of it; but that, some one having interpreted
the rays passing through the different openings of the lantern in
Christ's hand as typifying truth shining through different
religious conceptions, the owners of the picture distrusted it,
and had recently refused to allow its exhibition in London.

It surprised me to find Holman Hunt so absorbed in his own art
that he apparently knew next to nothing about that of other
European masters,--nothing of Puvis de Chavannes at Paris;
nothing of Menzel, Knaus, and Werner at Berlin.

Having returned to America, I was soon settled in my old
homestead at Cornell,--as I supposed for the rest of my life.
Very delightful to me during this as well as other sojourns at
Cornell after my presidency were sundry visits to American
universities at which I was asked to read papers or make
addresses. Of these I may mention Harvard, Yale, and the State
universities of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota, at each of
which I addressed bodies of students on subjects which seemed to
me important, among these "The Diplomatic Service of the United
States," "Democracy and Education," "Evolution vs. Revolution in
Politics," and "The Problem of High Crime in the United States."
To me, as an American citizen earnestly desiring a noble future
for my country, it was one of the greatest of pleasures to look
into the faces of those large audiences of vigorous young men and
women, and, above all, at the State universities of the West,
which are to act so powerfully through so many channels of
influence in this new century. The last of the subjects
above-named interested me painfully, and I was asked to present
it to large general audiences, and not infrequently to the
congregations of churches. I had become convinced that looseness
in the administration of our criminal law is one of the more
serious dangers to American society, and my earlier studies in
this field were strengthened by my observations in the
communities I had visited during the long journey through our
Southern and Pacific States, to which I have just referred. Of
this I shall speak later.

Returning to Washington in February of 1897, I joined the
Venezuela Commission in presenting its report to the President
and Secretary of State, and so ended my duties under the
administration of Mr. Cleveland. Of my connection with the
political campaign of 1896 I have spoken elsewhere. In May of
1897, having been appointed by President McKinley ambassador to
Berlin, I sailed for Europe, and my journeys since that time have
consisted mainly of excursions to interesting historical
localities in Germany, with several short vacations in the
principal towns of northern Italy, upon the Riviera, and in
America.



PART VII

MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS

CHAPTER LVI

THE CARDIFF GIANT: A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF HUMAN
FOLLY--1869-1870

The traveler from New York to Niagara by the northern route is
generally disappointed in the second half of his journey. During
the earlier hours of the day, moving rapidly up the valleys,
first of the Hudson and next of the Mohawk, he passes through a
succession of landscapes striking or pleasing, and of places
interesting from their relations to the French and Revolutionary
wars. But, arriving at the middle point of his journey,--the head
waters of the Mohawk,--a disenchantment begins. Thenceforward he
passes through a country tame, monotonous, and with cities and
villages as uninteresting in their appearance as in their names;
the latter being taken, apparently without rhyme or reason, from
the classical dictionary or the school geography.

And yet, during all that second half of his excursion, he is
passing almost within musket-shot of one of the most beautiful
regions of the Northern States,--the lake country of central and
western New York.

It is made up of a succession of valleys running from south to
north, and lying generally side by side, each with a beauty of
its own. Some, like the Oneida and the Genesee, are broad
expanses under thorough cultivation; others, like the Cayuga and
Seneca, show sheets of water long and wide, their shores
sometimes indented with glens and gorges, and sometimes rising
with pleasant slopes to the wooded hills; in others still, as the
Cazenovia, Skaneateles, Owasco, Keuka, and Canandaigua, smaller
lakes are set, like gems, among vineyards and groves; and in
others shimmering streams go winding through corn-fields and
orchards fringed by the forest.

Of this last sort is the Onondaga valley. It lies just at the
center of the State, and, although it has at its northern
entrance the most thriving city between New York and Buffalo, it
preserves a remarkable character of peaceful beauty.

It is also interesting historically. Here was the seat--the "long
house"--of the Onondagas, the central tribe of the Iroquois;
here, from time immemorial, were held the councils which decided
on a warlike or peaceful policy for their great confederation;
hither, in the seventeenth century, came the Jesuits, and among
them some who stand high on the roll of martyrs; hither, toward
the end of the eighteenth century, came Chateaubriand, who has
given in his memoirs his melancholy musings on the shores of
Onondaga Lake, and his conversation with the chief sachem of the
Onondaga tribe; hither, in the early years of this century, came
the companion of Alexis de Tocqueville, Gustave de Beaumont, who
has given in his letters the thoughts aroused within him in this
region, made sacred to him by the sorrows of refugees from the
French Revolution.

It is a land of peace. The remnant of the Indians live quietly
upon their reservation, Christians and pagans uniting
harmoniously, on broad-church principles, in the celebration of
Christmas and in the sacrifice of the white dog to the Great
Spirit.

The surrounding farmers devote themselves in peace to their
vocation. A noted academy, which has sent out many of their
children to take high places in their own and other States,
stands in the heart of the valley, and little red school-houses
are suitably scattered. Clinging to the hills on either side are
hamlets like Onondaga, Pompey, and Otisco, which in summer remind
one of the villages upon the lesser slopes of the Apennines. It
would be hard to find a more typical American population of the
best sort--the sort which made Thomas Jefferson believe in
democracy. It is largely of New England ancestry, with a free
admixture of the better sort of more recent immigrants. It was my
good fortune, during several years, to know many of these
dwellers in the valley, and perhaps I am prejudiced in their
favor by the fact that in my early days they listened very
leniently to my political and literary addresses, and twice sent
me to the Senate of the State with a large majority.

But truth, even more than friendship, compels this tribute to
their merits. Good influences have long been at work among them:
in the little cemetery near the valley church is the grave of one
of their early pastors,--a quiet scholar,--the Rev. Caleb
Alexander, who edited the first edition of the Greek Testament
ever published in the United States.

I have known one of these farmers, week after week during the
storms of a hard winter, drive four miles to borrow a volume of
Scott's novels, and, what is better, drive four miles each week
to return it. They are a people who read and think, and who can
be relied on, in the long run, to take the sensible view of any
question.

They have done more than read and think. They took a leading part
in raising regiments and batteries for the Civil War, and their
stalwart sons went valiantly forth as volunteers. The Onondaga
regiments distinguished themselves on many a hard-fought field;
they learned what war was like at Bull Run, and used their
knowledge to good purpose at Lookout Mountain, Five Forks, and
Gettysburg. Typical is the fact that one of these regiments was
led by a valley schoolmaster,--a man who, having been shot
through the body, reported dead, and honored with a public
commemoration at which eulogies were delivered by various
persons, including myself, lived to command a brigade, to take
part in the "Battle of the Clouds," where he received a second
wound, and to receive a third wound during the march with Sherman
to the sea.

Best of all, after the war the surviving soldiers returned, went
on with their accustomed vocations, and all was quiet as before.

But in the autumn[18] of 1869 this peaceful region was in
commotion from one end to the other. Strange reports echoed from
farm to farm. It was noised abroad that a great stone statue or
petrified giant had been dug up near the little hamlet of
Cardiff, almost at the southern extremity of the valley; and
soon, despite the fact that the crops were not yet gathered in,
and the elections not yet over, men and women and children were
hurrying from Syracuse and from the farm-houses along the valley
to the scene of the great discovery.


[18] October 16.


I had been absent in a distant State for some weeks, and, on my
return to Syracuse, meeting one of the most substantial citizens,
a highly respected deacon in the Presbyterian Church, formerly a
county judge, I asked him, in a jocose way, about the new object
of interest, fully expecting that he would join me in a laugh
over the whole matter; but, to my surprise, he became at once
very solemn. He said, "I assure you that this is no laughing
matter; it is a very serious thing, indeed; there is no question
that an amazing discovery has been made, and I advise you to go
down and see what you think of it."

Next morning, my brother and myself were speeding, after a fast
trotter in a light buggy, through the valley to the scene of the
discovery; and as we went we saw more and more, on every side,
evidences of enormous popular interest. The roads were crowded
with buggies, carriages, and even omnibuses from the city, and
with lumber-wagons from the farms--all laden with passengers. In
about two hours we arrived at the Newell farm, and found a
gathering which at first sight seemed like a county fair. In the
midst was a tent, and a crowd was pressing for admission.
Entering, we saw a large pit or grave, and, at the bottom of it,
perhaps five feet below the surface, an enormous figure,
apparently of Onondaga gray limestone. It was a stone giant, with
massive features, the whole body nude, the limbs contracted as if
in agony. It had a color as if it had lain long in the earth, and
over its surface were minute punctures, like pores. An especial
appearance of great age was given it by deep grooves and channels
in its under side, apparently worn by the water which flowed in
streams through the earth and along the rock on which the figure
rested. Lying in its grave, with the subdued light from the roof
of the tent falling upon it, and with the limbs contorted as if
in a death struggle, it produced a most weird effect. An air of
great solemnity pervaded the place. Visitors hardly spoke above a
whisper.

Coming out, I asked some questions, and was told that the farmer
who lived there had discovered the figure when digging a well.
Being asked my opinion, my answer was that the whole matter was
undoubtedly a hoax; that there was no reason why the farmer
should dig a well in the spot where the figure was found; that it
was convenient neither to the house nor to the barn; that there
was already a good spring and a stream of water running
conveniently to both; that, as to the figure itself, it certainly
could not have been carved by any prehistoric race, since no part
of it showed the characteristics of any such early work; that,
rude as it was, it betrayed the qualities of a modern performance
of a low order.

Nor could it be a fossilized human being; in this all scientific
observers of any note agreed. There was ample evidence, to one
who had seen much sculpture, that it was carved, and that the man
who carved it, though by no means possessed of genius or talent,
had seen casts, engravings, or photographs of noted sculptures.
The figure, in size, in massiveness, in the drawing up of the
limbs, and in its roughened surface, vaguely reminded one of
Michelangelo's "Night and Morning." Of course, the difference
between this crude figure and those great Medicean statues was
infinite; and yet it seemed to me that the man who had carved
this figure must have received a hint from those.

It was also clear that the figure was neither intended to be
considered as an idol nor as a monumental statue. There was no
pedestal of any sort on which it could stand, and the disposition
of the limbs and their contortions were not such as any sculptor
would dream of in a figure to be set up for adoration. That it
was intended to be taken as a fossilized giant was indicated by
the fact that it was made as nearly like a human being as the
limited powers of the stone-carver permitted, and that it was
covered with minute imitations of pores.

Therefore it was that, in spite of all scientific reasons to the
contrary, the work was very generally accepted as a petrified
human being of colossal size, and became known as "the Cardiff
Giant."

One thing seemed to argue strongly in favor of its antiquity, and
I felt bound to confess, to those who asked my opinion, that it
puzzled me. This was the fact that the surface water flowing
beneath it in its grave seemed to have deeply grooved and
channeled it on the under side. Now the Onondaga gray limestone
is hard and substantial, and on that very account used in the
locks upon the canals: for the running of surface water to wear
such channels in it would require centuries.

Against the opinion that the figure was a hoax various arguments
were used. It was insisted, first, that the farmer had not the
ability to devise such a fraud; secondly, that he had not the
means to execute it; third, that his family had lived there
steadily for many years, and were ready to declare under oath
that they had never seen it, and had known nothing of it until it
was accidentally discovered; fourth, that the neighbors had never
seen or heard of it; fifth, that it was preposterous to suppose
that such a mass of stone could have been brought and buried in
the place without some one finding it out; sixth, that the
grooves and channels worn in it by the surface water proved its
vast antiquity.

To these considerations others were soon added. Especially
interesting was it to observe the evolution of myth and legend.
Within a week after the discovery, full-blown statements appeared
to the effect that the neighboring Indians had abundant
traditions of giants who formerly roamed over the hills of
Onondaga; and, finally, the circumstantial story was evolved that
an Onondaga squaw had declared, "in an impressive manner," that
the statue "is undoubtedly the petrified body of a gigantic
Indian prophet who flourished many centuries ago and foretold the
coming of the palefaces, and who, just before his own death, said
to those about him that their descendants would see him
again."[19] To this were added the reflections of many good
people who found it an edifying confirmation of the biblical
text, "There were giants in those days." There was, indeed, an
undercurrent of skepticism among the harder heads in the valley,
but the prevailing opinion in the region at large was more and
more in favor of the idea that the object was a fossilized human
being--a giant of "those days." Such was the rush to see the
figure that the admission receipts were very large; it was even
stated that they amounted to five per cent. upon three millions
of dollars, and soon came active men from the neighboring region
who proposed to purchase the figure and exhibit it through the
country. A leading spirit in this "syndicate" deserves mention.
He was a horse-dealer in a large way and banker in a small way
from a village in the next county,--a man keen and shrewd, but
merciful and kindly, who had fought his way up from abject
poverty, and whose fundamental principle, as he asserted it, was
"Do unto others as they would like to do unto you, and--DO IT
FUST."[20] A joint-stock concern was formed with a considerable
capital, and an eminent show man, "Colonel" Wood, employed to
exploit the wonder.


[19] See "The Cardiff Giant Humbug," Fort Dodge, Iowa, 1870, p.
13.

[20] For a picture, both amusing and pathetic, of the doings of
this man, and also of life in the central New York villages, see
"David Harum," a novel by E. N. Westcott, New York, 1898.


A week after my first visit I again went to the place, by
invitation. In the crowd on that day were many men of light and
leading from neighboring towns,--among them some who made
pretensions to scientific knowledge. The figure, lying in its
grave, deeply impressed all; and as a party of us came away, a
very excellent doctor of divinity, pastor of one of the largest
churches in Syracuse, said very impressively, "Is it not strange
that any human being, after seeing this wonderfully preserved
figure, can deny the evidence of his senses, and refuse to
believe, what is so evidently the fact, that we have here a
fossilized human being, perhaps one of the giants mentioned in
Scripture?"

Another visitor, a bright-looking lady, was heard to declare,
"Nothing in the world can ever make me believe that he was not
once a living being. Why, you can see the veins in his legs."[21]


[21] See Letter of Hon. Galusha Parsons in the Fort Dodge
Pamphlet.


Another prominent clergyman declared with ex cathedra emphasis:
"This is not a thing contrived of man, but is the face of one who
lived on the earth, the very image and child of God."[22] And a
writer in one of the most important daily papers of the region
dwelt on the "majestic simplicity and grandeur of the figure,"
and added, "It is not unsafe to affirm that ninety-nine out of
every hundred persons who have seen this wonder have become
immediately and instantly impressed with the idea that they were
in the presence of an object not made by mortal hands.... No
piece of sculpture ever produced the awe inspired by this
blackened form.... I venture to affirm that no living sculptor
can be produced who will say that the figure was conceived and
executed by any human being."[23]


[22] See Mr. Stockbridge's article in the "Popular Science
Monthly," June, 1878.

[23] See "The American Goliath," Syracuse, 1869, p. 16.


The current of belief ran more and more strongly, and soon
embraced a large number of really thoughtful people. A week or
two after my first visit came a deputation of regents of the
State University from Albany, including especially Dr. Woolworth,
the secretary, a man of large educational experience, and no less
a personage in the scientific world than Dr. James Hall, the
State geologist, perhaps the most eminent American paleontologist
of that period.

On their arrival at Syracuse in the evening, I met them at their
hotel and discussed with them the subject which so interested us
all, urging them especially to be cautious, and stating that a
mistake might prove very injurious to the reputation of the
regents, and to the proper standing of scientific men and methods
in the State; that if the matter should turn out to be a fraud,
and such eminent authorities should be found to have committed
themselves to it, there would be a guffaw from one end of the
country to the other at the expense of the men intrusted by the
State with its scientific and educational interests. To this the
gentlemen assented, and next day they went to Cardiff. They came;
they saw; and they narrowly escaped being conquered. Luckily they
did not give their sanction to the idea that the statue was a
petrifaction, but Professor Hall was induced to say: "To all
appearance, the statue lay upon the gravel when the deposition of
the fine silt or soil began, upon the surface of which the
forests have grown for succeeding generations. Altogether it is
the most remarkable object brought to light in this country, and,
although not dating back to the stone age, is, nevertheless,
deserving of the attention of archaeologists."[24]


[24] See his letter of October 23, 1869, in the Syracuse papers.


At no period of my life have I ever been more discouraged as
regards the possibility of making right reason prevail among men.

As a refrain to every argument there seemed to go jeering and
sneering through my brain Schiller's famous line:

"Against stupidity the gods themselves fight in vain."[25]


[25] "Mit der Dummheit kampfen Gotter selbst vergebens." Jungfrau
von Orleans, Act III, scene 6.


There seemed no possibility even of SUSPENDING the judgment of
the great majority who saw the statue. As a rule, they insisted
on believing it a "petrified giant," and those who did not dwelt
on its perfections as an ancient statue. They saw in it a whole
catalogue of fine qualities; and one writer went into such
extreme ecstatics that he suddenly realized the fact, and ended
by saying, "but this is rather too high-flown, so I had better
conclude." As a matter of fact, the work was wretchedly defective
in proportion and features; in every characteristic of sculpture
it showed itself the work simply of an inferior stone-carver.

Dr. Boynton, a local lecturer on scientific subjects, gave it the
highest praise as a work of art, and attributed it to early
Jesuit missionaries who had come into that region about two
hundred years before. Another gentleman, who united the character
of a deservedly beloved pastor and an inspiring popular lecturer
on various scientific topics, developed this Boynton theory. He
attributed the statue to "a trained sculptor . . . who had noble
original powers; for none but such could have formed and wrought
out the conception of that stately head, with its calm smile so
full of mingled sweetness and strength." This writer then
ventured the query, "Was it not, as Dr. Boynton suggests, some
one from that French colony, . . . some one with a righteous soul
sighing over the lost civilization of Europe, weary of swamp and
forest and fort, who, finding this block by the side of the
stream, solaced the weary days of exile with pouring out his
thought upon the stone?"[26] Although the most eminent sculptor
in the State had utterly refused to pronounce the figure anything
beyond a poor piece of carving, these strains of admiration and
adoration continued.


[26] See the Syracuse daily papers as above.


There was evidently a "joy in believing" in the marvel, and this
was increased by the peculiarly American superstition that the
correctness of a belief is decided by the number of people who
can be induced to adopt it--that truth is a matter of majorities.
The current of credulity seemed irresistible.

Shortly afterward the statue was raised from its grave taken to
Syracuse and to various other cities, especially to the city of
New York, and in each place exhibited as a show.

As already stated, there was but one thing in the figure, as I
had seen it, which puzzled me, and that was the grooving of the
under side, apparently by currents of water, which, as the statue
appeared to be of our Onondaga gray limestone, would require very
many years. But one day one of the cool-headed skeptics of the
valley, an old schoolmate of mine, came to me, and with an air of
great solemnity took from his pocket an object which he carefully
unrolled from its wrappings, and said, "There is a piece of the
giant. Careful guard has been kept from the first in order to
prevent people touching it; but I have managed to get a piece of
it, and here it is." I took it in my hand, and the matter was
made clear in an instant. The stone was not our hard Onondaga
gray limestone, but soft, easily marked with the finger-nail,
and, on testing it with an acid, I found it, not hard carbonate
of lime, but a soft, friable sulphate of lime--a form of gypsum,
which must have been brought from some other part of the country.

A healthful skepticism now began to assert its rights. Professor
Marsh of Yale appeared upon the scene. Fortunately, he was not
only one of the most eminent of living paleontologists, but,
unlike most who had given an opinion, he really knew something of
sculpture, for he had been familiar with the best galleries of
the Old World. He examined the statue and said, "It is of very
recent origin, and a most decided humbug.... Very short exposure
of the statue would suffice to obliterate all trace of
tool-marks, and also to roughen the polished surfaces, but these
are still quite perfect, and hence the giant must have been very
recently buried.... I am surprised that any scientific observers
should not have at once detected the unmistakable evidence
against its antiquity."[27]


[27] See Professor Marsh's letter in the "Syracuse Daily
Journal," November 30, 1869.


Various suspicious circumstances presently became known. It was
found that Farmer Newell had just remitted to a man named Hull,
at some place in the West, several thousand dollars, the result
of admission fees to the booth containing the figure, and that
nothing had come in return. Thinking men in the neighborhood
reasoned that as Newell had never been in condition to owe any
human being such an amount of money, and had received nothing in
return for it, his correspondent had, not unlikely, something to
do with the statue.

These suspicions were soon confirmed. The neighboring farmers,
who, in their quiet way, kept their eyes open, noted a tall, lank
individual who frequently visited the place and seemed to
exercise complete control over Farmer Newell. Soon it was learned
that this stranger was the man Hull,--Newell's
brother-in-law,--the same to whom the latter had made the large
remittance of admission money. One day, two or three farmers from
a distance, visiting the place for the first time and seeing
Hull, said, "Why, that is the man who brought the big box down
the valley." On being asked what they meant, they said that,
being one evening in a tavern on the valley turnpike some miles
south of Cardiff, they had noticed under the tavern shed a wagon
bearing an enormous box; and when they met Hull in the bar-room
and asked about it, he said that it was some tobacco-cutting
machinery which he was bringing to Syracuse. Other farmers, who
had seen the box and talked with Hull at different places on the
road between Binghamton and Cardiff, made similar statements. It
was then ascertained that no such box had passed the toll-gates
between Cardiff and Syracuse, and proofs of the swindle began to
mature.

But skepticism was not well received. Vested interests had
accrued, a considerable number of people, most of them very good
people, had taken stock in the new enterprise, and anything which
discredited it was unwelcome to them.

It was not at all that these excellent people wished to
countenance an imposture, but it had become so entwined with
their beliefs and their interests that at last they came to abhor
any doubts regarding it. A pamphlet, "The American Goliath," was
now issued in behalf of the wonder. On its title-page it claimed
to give the "History of the Discovery, and the Opinions of
Scientific Men thereon." The tone of the book was moderate, but
its tendency was evident. Only letters and newspaper articles
exciting curiosity or favoring the genuineness of the statue were
admitted; adverse testimony, like that of Professor Marsh, was
carefully excluded.

Before long the matter entered into a comical phase. Barnum, King
of Showmen, attempted to purchase the "giant," but in vain. He
then had a copy made so nearly resembling the original that no
one, save, possibly, an expert, could distinguish between them.
This new statue was also exhibited as "the Cardiff Giant," and
thenceforward the credit of the discovery waned.

The catastrophe now approached rapidly, and soon affidavits from
men of high character in Iowa and Illinois established the fact
that the figure was made at Fort Dodge, in Iowa, of a great block
of gypsum there found; that this block was transported by land to
the nearest railway station, Boone, which was about forty-five
miles distant; that on the way the wagon conveying it broke down,
and that as no other could be found strong enough to bear the
whole weight, a portion of the block was cut off; that, thus
diminished, it was taken to Chicago, where a German stone-carver
gave it final shape; that, as it had been shortened, he was
obliged to draw up the lower limbs, thus giving it a strikingly
contracted and agonized appearance; that the under side of the
figure was grooved and channeled in order that it should appear
to be wasted by age; that it was then dotted or pitted over with
minute pores by means of a leaden mallet faced with steel
needles; that it was stained with some preparation which gave it
an appearance of great age; that it was then shipped to a place
near Binghamton, New York, and finally brought to Cardiff and
there buried. It was further stated that Hull, in order to secure
his brother-in-law, Farmer Newell, as his confederate in burying
the statue, had sworn him to secrecy; and, in order that the
family might testify that they had never heard or seen anything
of the statue until it had been unearthed, he had sent them away
on a little excursion covering the time when it was brought and
buried. All these facts were established by affidavits from men
of high character in Iowa and Illinois, by the sworn testimony of
various Onondaga farmers and men of business, and, finally, by
the admissions and even boasts of Hull himself.

Against this tide of truth the good people who had pinned their
faith to the statue--those who had vested interests in it, and
those who had rashly given solemn opinions in favor of
it--struggled for a time desperately. A writer in the "Syracuse
Journal" expressed a sort of regretful wonder and shame that "the
public are asked to overthrow the sworn testimony of sustained
witnesses corroborated by the highest scientific authority"--the
only sworn witness being Farmer Newell, whose testimony was not
at all conclusive, and the highest scientific authority being an
eminent local dentist who, early in his life, had given popular
chemical lectures, and who had now invested money in the
enterprise.

The same writer referred also with awe to "the men of sense,
property, and character who own the giant and receive whatever
revenue arises from its exhibition"; and the argument culminated
in the oracular declaration that "the operations of water as
testified and interpreted by science cannot create
falsehood."[28]


[28] See letter of "X" in the "Syracuse Journal," republished in
the Fort Dodge Pamphlet, pp. 15 and 16.


But all this pathetic eloquence was in vain. Hull, the inventor
of the statue, having realized more money from it than he
expected, and being sharp enough to see that its day was done,
was evidently bursting with the desire to avert scorn from
himself by bringing the laugh upon others, and especially upon
certain clergymen, whom, as we shall see hereafter, he greatly
disliked. He now acknowledged that the whole thing was a swindle,
and gave details of the way in which he came to embark in it. He
avowed that the idea was suggested to him by a discussion with a
Methodist revivalist in Iowa; that, being himself a skeptic in
religious matters, he had flung at his antagonist "those
remarkable stories in the Bible about giants"; that, observing
how readily the revivalist and those with him took up the cudgels
for the giants, it then and there occurred to him that, since so
many people found pleasure in believing such things, he would
have a statue carved out of stone which he had found in Iowa and
pass it off on them as a petrified giant. In a later conversation
he said that one thing which decided him was that the stone had
in it dark-colored bluish streaks which resembled in appearance
the veins of the human body. The evolution of the whole affair
thus became clear, simple, and natural.

Up to this time, Hull's remarkable cunning had never availed him
much. He had made various petty inventions, but had realized very
little from them; he had then made some combinations as regarded
the internal-revenue laws referring to the manufacture and sale
of tobacco, and these had only brought him into trouble with the
courts; but now, when the boundless resources of human credulity
were suddenly revealed to him by the revivalist, he determined to
exploit them. This evolution of his ideas strikingly resembles
that through which the mind of a worthless, shiftless, tricky
creature in western New York--Joseph Smith--must have passed
forty years before, when he dug up "the golden plates" of the
"Book of Mormon," and found plenty of excellent people who
rejoiced in believing that the Rev. Mr. Spalding's biblical novel
was a new revelation from the Almighty.

The whole matter was thus fully laid open, and it might have been
reasonably expected that thenceforward no human being would
insist that the stone figure was anything but a swindling hoax.

Not so. In the Divinity School of Yale College, about the middle
of the century, was a solemn, quiet, semi-jocose,
semi-melancholic resident graduate--Alexander McWhorter. I knew
him well. He had embarked in various matters which had not turned
out satisfactorily. Hot water, ecclesiastical and social, seemed
his favorite element.[29] He was generally believed to secure
most of his sleep during the day, and to do most of his work
during the night; a favorite object of his study being Hebrew.
Various strange things had appeared from his pen, and, most
curious of all, a little book entitled, "Yahveh Christ," in which
he had endeavored to demonstrate that the doctrine of the Trinity
was to be found entangled in the consonants out of which former
scholars made the word "Jehovah," and more recent scholars
"Yahveh"; that this word, in fact, proved the doctrine of the
Trinity.[30]


[29] The main evidence of this is to be found in "Truth Stranger
Than Fiction: A Narrative of Recent Transactions involving
Inquiries in Regard to the Principles of Honor, Truth, and
Justice, which Obtains in a Distinguished American University,"
by Catherine E. Beecher, New York, 1850.

[30] See "Yahveh Christ, or the Memorial Name," by A. McWhorter,
Boston, 1857.


He now brought his intellect to bear upon "the Cardiff Giant,"
and soon produced an amazing theory, developing it at length in a
careful article.[31]


[31] See McWhorter, "Tammuz and the Mound-builders," in the
"Galaxy," July, 1872.


This theory was simply that the figure discovered at Cardiff was
a Phenician idol; and Mr. McWhorter published, as the climax to
all his proofs, the facsimile and translation of an inscription
which he had discovered upon the figure--a "Phenician
inscription," which he thought could leave no doubt in the mind
of any person open to conviction.

That the whole thing had been confessed a swindle by all who took
part in it, with full details as to its origin and development,
seemed to him not worthy of the slightest mention. Regardless of
all the facts in the case, he showed a pathetic devotion to his
theory, and allowed his imagination the fullest play. He found,
first of all, an inscription of thirteen letters, "introduced by
a large cross or star--the Assyrian index of the Deity." Before
the last word of the inscription he found carved "a flower which
he regarded as consecrated to the particular deity Tammuz, and at
both ends of the inscription a serpent monogram and symbol of
Baal."

This inscription he assumed as an evident fact, though no other
human being had ever been able to see it. Even Professor White,
M.D., of the Yale Medical School, with the best intentions in the
world, was unable to find it. Dr. White was certainly not
inclined to superficiality or skepticism. With "achromatic
glasses which magnified forty-five diameters" he examined the
"pinholes" which covered the figure, and declared that "the
beautiful finish of every pore or pinhole appeared to me strongly
opposed to the idea that the statue was of modern workmanship."
He also thought he saw the markings which Mr. McWhorter
conjectured might be an inscription, and said in a letter,
"though I saw no recent tool-marks, I saw evidences of design in
the form and arrangement of the markings, which suggested the
idea of an inscription." And, finally, having made these
concessions, he ends his long letter with the very guarded
statement that, "though not fully DECIDED, I INCLINE TO THE
OPINION that the Onondaga statue is of ancient origin."[32]


[32] The italics are as in the original.


But this mild statement did not daunt Mr. McWhorter. Having
calmly pronounced Dr. White "in error," he proceeded with sublime
disregard of every other human being. He found that the statue
"belongs to the winged or 'cherubim' type"; that "down the left
side of the figure are seen the outlines of folded wings--even
the separate feathers being clearly distinguishable"; that "the
left side of the head is inexpressibly noble and majestic," and
"conforms remarkably to the type of the head of the
mound-builders"; that "the left arm terminates in what appears to
be a huge extended lion's paw"; that "the dual idea expressed in
the head is carried out in the figure"; that "in the wonderfully
artistic mouth of the divine side we find a suggestion of that of
the Greek Apollo." Mr. McWhorter also found other things that no
other human being was ever able to discern, and among them "a
crescent-shaped wound upon the left side," "traces of ancient
coloring" in all parts of the statue, and evidences that the
minute pores were made by "borers." He lays great stress on an
"ancient medal" found in Onondaga, which he thinks belongs "to
the era of the mound-builders," and on which he finds a "circle
inclosing an equilateral cross, both cross and circle, like the
wheel of Ezekiel, being full of small circles or eyes." As a
matter of fact, this "ancient medal" was an English penny, which
a street gamin of Syracuse said that he had found near the
statue, and the "equilateral cross" was simply the usual cross of
St. George. Mr. McWhorter thinks the circle inclosing the cross
denotes the "world soul," and in a dissertation of about twenty
pages he discourses upon "Baal," "Tammuz," "King Hiram of Tyre,"
the "ships of Tarshish," the "Eluli," and "Atlas," with plentiful
arguments drawn from a multitude of authorities, and among them
Sanchoniathon, Ezekiel, Plato, Dr. Dollinger, Isaiah,
Melanchthon, Lenormant, Humboldt, Sir John Lubbock, and Don
Domingo Juarros,--finally satisfying himself that the statue was
"brought over by a colony of Phenicians," possibly several
hundred years before Christ.[33]


[33] See the "Galaxy" article, as above, passim.


With the modesty of a true scholar he says, "Whether the final
battle at Onondaga . . . occurred before or after this event we
cannot tell"; but, resuming confidence, he says, "we only know
that at some distant period the great statue, brought in a 'ship
of Tarshish' across the sea of Atl, was lightly covered with
twigs and flowers and these with gravel." The deliberations of
the Pickwick Club over "Bill Stubbs, His Mark" pale before this;
and Dickens in his most expansive moods never conceived anything
more funny than the long, solemn discussion between the erratic
Hebrew scholar and the eminent medical professor at New Haven
over the "pores" of the statue, which one of them thought "the
work of minute animals," which the other thought "elaborate
Phenician workmanship," which both thought exquisite, and which
the maker of the statue had already confessed that he had made by
rudely striking the statue with a mallet faced with needles.

Mr. McWhorter's new theory made no great stir in the United
States, though some, doubtless, took comfort in it; but it found
one very eminent convert across the ocean, and in a place where
we might least have expected him. Some ten years after the events
above sketched while residing at Berlin as minister of the United
States, I one day received from an American student at the
University of Halle a letter stating that he had been requested
by no less a personage than the eminent Dr Schlottmann,
instructor in Hebrew in the theological school of that
university,--the successor of Gesenius in that branch of
instruction,--to write me for information regarding the Phenician
statue described by the Rev Alexander McWhorter.

In reply, I detailed to him the main points in the history of the
case, as it has been given in this chapter, adding, as against
the Phenician theory, that nothing in the nature of Phenician
remains had ever been found within the borders of the United
States, and that if they had been found, this remote valley,
three hundred miles from the sea, barred from the coast by
mountain-ranges, forests, and savage tribes, could never have
been the place chosen by Phenician navigators for such a deposit;
that the figure itself was clearly not a work of early art, but a
crude development by an uncultured stone-cutter out of his
remembrance of things in modern sculpture; and that the
inscription was purely the creation of Mr. McWhorter's
imagination.

In his acknowledgment, my correspondent said that I had left no
doubt in his mind as to the fact that the giant was a swindle;
but that he had communicated my letter to the eminent Dr.
Schlottmann, that the latter avowed that I had not convinced him,
and that he still believed the Cardiff figure to be a Phenician
statue bearing a most important inscription.

One man emerged from this chapter in the history of human folly
supremely happy: this was Hull, the inventor of the "giant." He
had at last made some money, had gained a reputation for
"smartness," and, what probably pleased him best of all, had
revenged himself upon the Rev. Mr. Turk of Ackley, Iowa, who by
lung-power had worsted him in the argument as to the giants
mentioned in Scripture.

So elate was he that he shortly set about devising another
"petrified man" which would defy the world. It was of clay baked
in a furnace, contained human bones, and was provided with "a
tail and legs of the ape type"; and this he caused to be buried
and discovered in Colorado. This time he claimed to have the aid
of one of his former foes--the great Barnum; and all went well
until his old enemy, Professor Marsh of Yale, appeared and
blasted the whole enterprise by a few minutes of scientific
observation and common-sense discourse.

Others tried to imitate Hull, and in 1876 one--William Buddock of
Thornton, St. Clair County, Michigan--manufactured a small effigy
in cement, and in due time brought about the discovery of it.
But, though several country clergymen used it to strengthen their
arguments as to the literal, prosaic correctness of Genesis, it
proved a failure. Finally, in 1889, twenty years after "the
Cardiff Giant" was devised, a "petrified man" was found near
Bathurst in Australia, brought to Sydney, and exhibited. The
result was, in some measure, the same as in the case of the
American fraud. Excellent people found comfort in believing, and
sundry pseudo-scientific men of a cheap sort thought it best to
pander to this sentiment; but a well-trained geologist pointed
out the absurdity of the popular theory, and finally the police
finished the matter by securing evidences of fraud.[34]


[34] For the Ruddock discovery see Dr. G.A. Stockwell in the
"Popular Science Monthly" for June, 1878. For the Australian
fraud see the London "Times" of August 2, 1889.


To close these annals, I may add that recently the inventor of
"the Cardiff Giant," Hull, being at the age of seventy-six years,
apparently in his last illness, and anxious for the glory in
history which comes from successful achievement, again gave to
the press a full account of his part in the affair, confirming
what he had previously stated, showing how he planned it,
executed it and realized a goodly sum for it; how Barnum wished
to purchase it from him; and how, above all, he had his joke at
the expense of those who, though they had managed to overcome him
in argument, had finally been rendered ridiculous in the sight of
the whole country.[35]


[35] For Hull's "Final Statement" see the "Ithaca Daily Journal,"
January 4, 1898.



CHAPTER LVII

PLANS AND PROJECTS, EXECUTED AND UNEXECUTED--1838-1905

Among those who especially attracted my youthful admiration were
authors, whether of books or of articles in the magazines. When
one of these personages was pointed out to me, he seemed of far
greater stature than the men about him. This feeling was
especially developed in the atmosphere of our household, where
scholars and writers were held in especial reverence, and was
afterward increased by my studies. This led me at Yale to take,
at first, much interest in general literature, and, as a result,
I had some youthful successes as a writer of essays and as one of
the editors of the "Yale Literary Magazine"; but although it was
an era of great writers,--the culmination of the Victorian
epoch,--my love for literature as literature gradually
diminished, and in place of it came in my young manhood a love of
historical and other studies to which literature was, to my mind,
merely subsidiary. With this, no doubt, the prevailing atmosphere
of Yale had much to do. There was between Yale and Harvard, at
that time, a great difference as regarded literary culture.
Living immediately about Harvard were most of the leading
American authors, and this fact greatly influenced that
university; at Yale less was made of literature as such, and more
was made of it as a means to an end--as ancillary in the
discussion of various militant political questions. Yale had
writers strong, vigorous, and acute: of such were Woolsey,
Porter, Bacon, and Bushnell, some of whom,--and, above all, the
last,--had they devoted themselves to pure literature, would have
gained lasting fame; but their interest in the questions of the
day was controlling, and literature, in its ordinary sense, was
secondary.

Harvard undoubtedly had the greater influence on leading American
thinkers throughout the nation, but much less direct influence on
the people at large outside of Massachusetts. The direct
influence of Yale on affairs throughout the United States was far
greater; it was felt in all parts of the country and in every
sort of enterprise. Many years after my graduation I attended a
meeting of the Yale alumni at Washington, where a Western
senator, on taking the chair, gave an offhand statement of the
difference between the two universities. "Gentlemen," said the
senator, "we all know what Harvard does. She fits men admirably
for life in Boston and its immediate neighborhood; they see
little outside of eastern Massachusetts and nothing outside of
New England; in Boston clubs they are delightful; elsewhere they
are intolerable. And we also know what Yale does: she sends her
graduates out into all parts of the land, for every sort of good
work, in town and country, even to the remotest borders of the
nation. Wherever you find a Yale man you find a man who is in
touch with his fellow-citizens; who appreciates them and is
appreciated by them; who is doing a man's work and is honored for
doing it."

This humorous overstatement indicates to some extent the real
difference between the spirit of the two universities: the
influence of Harvard being greater through the men it trained to
lead American thought from Boston as a center; the influence of
Yale being greater through its graduates who were joining in the
world's work in all its varied forms. Yet, curiously enough, it
was the utterance of a Harvard man which perhaps did most in my
young manhood to make me unduly depreciate literary work. I was
in deep sympathy with Theodore Parker, both in politics and
religion, and when he poured contempt over a certain class of
ineffective people as "weak and literary," something of his
feeling took possession of me. Then, too, I was much under the
influence of Thomas Carlyle: his preachments, hortatory and
objurgatory, witty and querulous, that men should defer work in
literature until they really have some worthy message to deliver,
had a strong effect upon me. While I greatly admired men like
Lowell and Whittier, who brought exquisite literary gifts to bear
powerfully on the struggle against slavery, persons devoted
wholly to literary work seemed to me akin to sugar-bakers and
confectionery-makers. I now know that this view was very
inadequate; but it was then in full force. It seemed to me more
and more absurd that a man with an alleged immortal soul, at such
a time as the middle of the nineteenth century, should devote
himself, as I then thought, to amusing weakish young men and
women by the balancing of phrases or the jingling of verses.

Therefore it was that, after leaving Yale, whatever I wrote had
some distinct purpose, with little, if any, care as to form. I
was greatly stirred against the encroachments of slavery in the
Territories, had also become deeply interested in university
education, and most of my thinking and writing was devoted to
these subjects; though, at times, I took up the cudgels in behalf
of various militant ideas that seemed to need support. The
lecture on "Cathedral Builders and Mediaeval Sculptors," given in
the Yale chapel after my return from Europe, often repeated
afterward in various parts of the country, and widely circulated
by extracts in newspapers, though apparently an exception to the
rule, was not really so. It aimed to show the educational value
of an ethical element in art. So, too, my article in the "New
Englander" on "Glimpses of Universal History" had as its object
the better development of historical studies in our universities.
My articles in the "Atlantic Monthly"--on "Jefferson and
Slavery," on "The Statesmanship of Richelieu," and on "The
Development and Overthrow of Serfdom in Russia"--all had a
bearing on the dominant question of slavery, and the same was
true of my Phi Beta Kappa address at Yale on "The Greatest Foe of
Modern States." Whatever I wrote during the Civil War, and
especially my pamphlet published in London as a reply to the
"American Diary" of the London "Times" correspondent, Dr.
Russell, had a similar character. The feeling grew upon me that
life in the United States during the middle of the nineteenth
century was altogether too earnest for devotion to pure
literature. The same feeling pervaded my lectures at the
University of Michigan, my effort being by means of the lessons
of history to set young men at thinking upon the great political
problems of our time. The first course of these lectures was upon
the French Revolution. Work with reference to it had been a labor
of love. During my student life in Paris, and at various other
times, I had devoted much time to the study of this subject, had
visited nearly all the places most closely connected with it not
only in Paris but throughout France, had meditated upon the noble
beginnings of the Revolution in the Palace and Tennis-court and
Church of St. Louis at Versailles; at Lyons, upon the fusillades;
at Nantes, upon the noyades; at the Abbaye, the Carmelite
monastery, the Barriere du Trone, and the cemetery of the Rue
Picpus in Paris, upon the Red Terror; at Nimes and Avignon and in
La Vendee, upon the White Terror; had collected, in all parts of
France, masses of books, manuscripts, public documents and
illustrated material on the whole struggle: full sets of the
leading newspapers of the Revolutionary period, more than seven
thousand pamphlets, reports, speeches, and other fugitive
publications, with masses of paper money, caricatures,
broadsides, and the like, thus forming my library on the
Revolution, which has since been added to that of Cornell
University. Based upon these documents and books were my lectures
on the general history of France and on the Revolution and
Empire. Out of this came finally a shorter series of lectures
upon which I took especial pains--namely, the "History of the
Causes of the French Revolution." This part of the whole course
interested me most as revealing the strength and weakness of
democracies and throwing light upon many problems which our own
republic must endeavor to solve; and I gave it not only at
Cornell, but at Johns Hopkins, the University of Pennsylvania,
Stanford, Tulane, and Washington. It still remains in manuscript:
whether it will ever be published is uncertain. Should my life be
somewhat extended, I hope to throw it into the form of a small
volume; but, at my present age and with the work now upon me, the
realization of this plan is doubtful. Still, in any case, there
is to me one great consolation: my collection of books aided the
former professor of modern history at Cornell, Mr. Morse Stevens,
in preparing what is unquestionably the best history of the
French Revolution in the English language. Nor has the collection
been without other uses. Upon it was based my pamphlet on "Paper
Money Inflation in France: How It Came, What It Brought, and How
It Ended," and this, being circulated widely as a campaign
document during two different periods of financial delusion, did,
I hope, something to set some controlling men into fruitful
trains of thought on one of the most important issues ever
presented to the American people.

Another course of lectures also paved the way possibly for a
book. I have already told how, during my college life and even
previously, I became fascinated with the history of the
Protestant Reformation. This led to further studies, and among
the first courses in history prepared during my professorship at
the University of Michigan was one upon the "Revival of Learning"
and the "Reformation in Germany." This course was developed later
until it was brought down to our own times; its continuance being
especially favored by my stay in Germany, first as a student and
later as minister of the United States. Most of my spare time at
these periods was given to this subject, and in the preparation
of these lectures I conceived the plan of a book bearing some
such name as "The Building of the German Empire," or "The
Evolution of Modern Germany." As to method, I proposed to make it
almost entirely biographical, and the reason for this is very
simple. Of all histories that I have known, those relating to
Germany have been the most difficult to read. Events in German
history are complicated and interwoven, to a greater degree than
those of any other nation, by struggles between races, between
three great branches of the Christian Church, between scores of
territorial divisions between greater and lesser monarchs,
between states and cities, between families, between individuals.
Then, to increase the complication, the center of interest is
constantly changing,--being during one period at Vienna, during
another at Frankfort-on-the-Main, during another at Berlin, and
during others at other places. Therefore it is that narrative
histories of Germany become to most foreign readers wretchedly
confusing: indeed, they might well be classed in Father
Bouhours's famous catalogue of "Books Impossible to be Read."
This obstacle to historical treatment, especially as regards the
needs of American readers, led me to group events about the lives
of various German leaders in thought and action--the real builders
of Germany; and this plan was perhaps confirmed by Carlyle's
famous dictum that the history of any nation is the history of
the great men who have made it. Impressed by such considerations,
I threw my lectures almost entirely into biographical form, with
here and there a few historical lectures to bind the whole
together. Beginning with Erasmus, Luther, Ulrich von Hutten, and
Charles V, I continued with Comenius, Canisius, Grotius,
Thomasius, and others who, whether born on German soil or not,
exercised their main influence in Germany. Then came the work of
the Great Elector, the administration of Frederick the Great, the
moral philosophy of Kant, the influence of the French Revolution
and Napoleon in Germany, the reforms of Stein, the hopeless
efforts of Joseph II and Metternich to win the hegemony for
Austria, and the successful efforts of Bismarck and the Emperor
William to give it to Prussia. My own direct knowledge of Germany
at different dates during more than forty-five years, and perhaps
also my official and personal relations to the two personages
last mentioned, enabled me to see some things which a man drawing
his material from books alone would not have seen. I have given
much of my spare time to this subject during several years, and
still hope, almost against hope, to bring it into book form.

Though thus interested in the work of a professor of modern
history, I could not refrain from taking part in the discussion
of practical questions pressing on thinking men from all sides
and earnestly demanding attention.

During my State senatorship I had been obliged more than once to
confess a lack, both in myself and in my colleagues, of much
fundamental knowledge especially important to men intrusted with
the legislation of a great commonwealth. Besides this, even as
far back as my Russian attacheship, I had observed a similar want
of proper equipment in our diplomatic and consular service. It
was clear to me that such subjects as international law,
political economy, modern history bearing on legislation, the
fundamental principles of law and administration, and especially
studies bearing on the prevention and cure of pauperism,
inebriety, and crime, and on the imposition of taxation, had been
always inadequately provided for by our universities, and in most
cases utterly neglected. In France and Germany I had observed a
better system, and, especially at the College de France, had been
interested in the courses of Laboulaye on "Comparative
Legislation." The latter subject, above all, seemed likely to
prove fruitful in the United States, where not only the national
Congress but over forty State legislatures are trying in various
ways, year after year, to solve the manifold problems presented
to them. Therefore it was that, while discharging my duties as a
commissioner at the Paris Exposition of 1878, I took pains to
secure information regarding instruction, in various European
countries, having as its object the preparation of young men for
the civil and diplomatic service. Especially was I struck by the
thorough equipment for the diplomatic and consular services given
at the newly established ecole Libre des Sciences Politiques at
Paris; consequently my report as commissioner was devoted to this
general subject. On my return this was published under the title
of "The Provision for Higher Instruction in Subjects bearing
directly on Public Affairs," and a portion of my material was
thrown, at a later day, into an appeal for the establishment of
proper courses in history and political science, which took the
final form of a commencement address at Johns Hopkins University.
It is a great satisfaction to me that this publication, acting
with other forces in the same direction, has been evidently
useful Nothing in the great development of our universities
during the last quarter of a century has been more gratifying and
full of promise for the country than the increased provision for
instruction bearing on public questions, and the increased
interest in such instruction shown by students, and, indeed, by
the community at large I may add that of all the kindnesses shown
me by the trustees of Cornell University at my resignation of its
presidency, there was none which pleased me more than the
attachment of my name to their newly established College of
History and Political Science.

During this same period another immediately practical subject
which interested me was the reform of the civil service; and,
having spoken upon this at various public meetings as well as
written private letters to various public men in order to keep
them thinking upon it, I published in 1882, in the "North
American Review," an article giving historical facts regarding
the origin, evolution, and results of the spoils system,
entitled, "Do the Spoils Belong to the Victor?" This brought upon
me a bitter personal attack from my old friend Mr. Thurlow Weed,
who, far-sighted and shrewd as he was, could never see how
republican institutions could be made to work without the
anticipation of spoils; but for this I was more than compensated
by the friendship of younger men who are likely to have far more
to do with our future political development than will the old
race of politicians, and, chief among these young men, Mr.
Theodore Roosevelt. I was also drawn off to other subjects,
making addresses at various universities on points which seemed
to me of importance, the most successful of all being one given
at Yale, upon the thirtieth anniversary of my class, entitled,
"The Message of the Nineteenth Century to the Twentieth." It was
an endeavor to strengthen the hands of those who were laboring to
maintain the proper balance between the humanities and technical
studies. To the latter I had indeed devoted many years of my
life, but the time had arrived when the other side seemed to
demand attention. This address, though the result of much
preliminary meditation, was dictated in all the hurry and worry
of a Cornell commencement week and given in the Yale chapel the
week following. Probably nothing which I have ever done, save
perhaps the tractate on "Paper Money Inflation in France,"
received such immediate and wide-spread recognition: it was
circulated very extensively in the New York "Independent," then
in the form of a pamphlet, for which there was large demand, and
finally, still more widely, in a cheap form.

Elsewhere in these reminiscences I have given an account of the
evolution of my "History of the Warfare of Science with
Theology." It was growing in my mind for about twenty years, and
my main reading, even for my different courses of lectures, had
more or less connection with it. First given as a lecture, it was
then extended into a little book which grew, in the shape of new
chapters, into much larger final form. It was written mainly at
Cornell University, but several of its chapters in other parts of
the world, one being almost wholly prepared on the Nile, at
Athens, and at Munich; another at St. Petersburg and during a
journey in the Scandinavian countries; and other chapters in
England and France. At last, in the spare hours of my official
life at St. Petersburg I made an end of the work; and in Italy,
during the winter and spring of 1894-1895, gave it final
revision.

For valuable aid in collecting materials and making notes in
public libraries, I was indebted to various friends whose names
are mentioned in its preface; and above all, to my dear friend
and former student, Professor George Lincoln Burr, who not only
aided me greatly during the latter part of my task by wise
suggestions and cautions, but who read the proofs and made the
index.

Perhaps I may be allowed to repeat here that my purpose in
preparing this book was to strengthen not only science but
religion. I have never had any tendency to scoffing, nor have I
liked scoffers. Many of my closest associations and dearest
friendships have been, and still are, with clergymen. Clergymen
are generally, in our cities and villages, among the best and
most intelligent men that one finds, and, as a rule, with
thoughtful and tolerant old lawyers and doctors, the people best
worth knowing. My aim in writing was not only to aid in freeing
science from trammels which for centuries had been vexatious and
cruel, but also to strengthen religious teachers by enabling them
to see some of the evils in the past which, for the sake of
religion itself, they ought to guard against in the future.

During vacation journeys in Europe I was led, at various
historical centers, to take up special subjects akin to those
developed in my lectures. Thus, during my third visit to
Florence, having read Manzoni's "Promessi Sposi," which still
seems to me the most beautiful historical romance ever written, I
was greatly impressed by that part of it which depicts the
superstitions and legal cruelties engendered by the plague at
Milan. This story, with Manzoni's "Colonna Infame" and Cantu's
"Vita di Beccaria," led me to take up the history of criminal
law, and especially the development of torture in procedure and
punishment. Much time during two or three years was given to this
subject, and a winter at Stuttgart in 1877-1878 was entirely
devoted to it. In the course of these studies I realized as never
before how much dogmatic theology and ecclesiasticism have done
to develop and maintain the most frightful features in penal law.
I found that in Greece and Rome, before the coming in of
Christianity, torture had been reduced to a minimum and, indeed,
had been mainly abolished; but that the doctrine in the mediaeval
church as to "Excepted Cases"--namely, cases of heresy and
witchcraft, regarding which the theological dogma was developed
that Satan would exercise his powers to help his votaries--had
led to the reestablishment of a system of torture, in order to
baffle and overcome Satan, far more cruel than any which
prevailed under paganism.

I also found that, while under the later Roman emperors and, in
fact, down to the complete supremacy of Christianity, criminal
procedure grew steadily more and more merciful, as soon as the
church was established in full power yet another theological
doctrine came in with such force that it extended the use of
torture from the "Excepted Cases" named above to all criminal
procedure, and maintained it, in its most frightful form, for
more than a thousand years. This new doctrine was that since the
Almighty punishes his erring children by tortures infinite in
cruelty and eternal in duration, earthly authorities may justly
imitate this divine example so far as their finite powers enable
them to do so. I found this doctrine not only especially
effective in the mediaeval church, but taking on even more
hideous characteristics in the Protestant Church, especially in
Germany. On this subject I collected much material, some of it
very interesting and little known even to historical scholars. Of
this were original editions of the old criminal codes of Europe
and later criminal codes in France and Germany down to the French
Revolution, nearly all of which were enriched with engravings
illustrating instruments and processes of torture. So, too, a
ghastly light was thrown into the whole subject by the
executioners' tariffs in the various German states, especially
those under ecclesiastical rule. One of several in my possession,
which was published by the Elector Archbishop of Cologne in 1757
and stamped with the archbishop's seal, specifies and sanctions
every form of ingenious cruelty which one human being can
exercise upon another, and, opposite each of these cruelties, the
price which the executioner was authorized to receive for
administering it. Thus, for cutting off the right hand so much;
for tearing out the tongue, so much; for tearing the flesh with
hot pincers, so much; for burning a criminal alive, so much; and
so on through two folio pages. Moreover, I had collected details
of witchcraft condemnations, which, during more than a century,
went on at the rate of more than a thousand a year in Germany
alone, and not only printed books but the original manuscript
depositions taken from the victims in the torture-chamber. Of
these were the trial papers of Dietrich Flade, who had been,
toward the end of the sixteenth century, one of the most eminent
men in eastern Germany, chief justice of the province and rector
of the University of Treves. Having ventured to think witchcraft
a delusion, he was put on trial by the archbishop, tortured until
in his agony he acknowledged every impossible thing suggested to
him, and finally strangled and burned. In his case, as in various
others, I have the ipsissima verba of the accusers and accused:
the original report in the handwriting of the scribe who was
present at the torture and wrote down the questions of the judges
and the answers of the prisoner.

On this material I based a short course of lectures on "The
Evolution of Humanity in Criminal Law," and have often thought of
throwing these into the form of a small book to be called "The
Warfare of Humanity with Unreason"; but this will probably remain
a mere project. I mention it here, hoping that some other person,
with more leisure, will some day properly present these facts as
bearing on the claims of theologians and ecclesiastics to direct
education and control thought.

Of this period, too, were sundry projects for special monographs.
Thus, during various visits to Florence, I planned a history of
that city. It had interested me in my student days during my
reading of Sismondi's "History of the Italian Republics," and on
resuming my studies in that field it seemed to me that a history
of Florence might be made, most varied, interesting, and
instructive. It would embrace, of course, a most remarkable
period of political development--the growth of a mediaeval
republic out of early anarchy and tyranny; some of the most
curious experiments in government ever made; the most wonderful,
perhaps, of all growths in art, literature, and science; and the
final supremacy of a monarchy, bringing many interesting results,
yet giving some terrible warnings. But the more I read the more I
saw that to write such a history a man must relinquish everything
else, and so it was given up. So, too, during various sojourns at
Venice my old interest in Father Paul Sarpi, which had been
aroused during my early professorial life while reading his pithy
and brilliant history of the Council of Trent, was greatly
increased, and I collected a considerable library with the idea
of writing a short biography of him for American readers. This,
of all projects not executed, has been perhaps the most difficult
for me to relinquish. My last three visits to Venice have
especially revived my interest in him and increased my collection
of books regarding him. The desire to spread his fame has come
over me very strongly as I have stood in the council-rooms of the
Venetian Republic, which he served so long and so well; as I have
looked upon his statue on the spot where he was left for dead by
the emissaries of Pope Paul V; and as I have mused over his
grave, so long desecrated and hidden by monks, but in these
latter days honored with an inscription. But other work has
claimed me, and others must write upon this subject. It is well
worthy of attention, not only for the interest of its details,
but for the light it throws upon great forces still at work in
the world. Strong men have discussed it for European readers, but
it deserves to be especially presented to Americans.

I think an eminent European publicist entirely right in saying
that Father Paul is one of the three men, since the middle ages,
who have exercised the most profound influence on Italy; the
other two being Galileo and Machiavelli. The reason assigned by
this historian for this judgment is not merely the fact that
Father Paul was one of the most eminent men in science whom Italy
has produced, nor the equally incontestable fact that he taught
the Venetian Republic--and finally the world--how to withstand
papal usurpation of civil power, but that by his history of the
Council of Trent he showed "how the Holy Spirit conducts the
councils of the church" ("comme quoi le Saint Esprit dirige les
conciles").[36]


[36] Since writing the above, I have published in the "Atlantic
Monthly" two historical essays upon Sarpi.


Yet another subject which I would have been glad to present was
the life of St. Francis Xavier--partly on account of my
veneration for the great Apostle to the Indies, and partly
because a collation of his successive biographies so strikingly
reveals the origin and growth of myth and legend in the warm
atmosphere of devotion. The project of writing such a book was
formed in my Cornell lecture-room at the close of a short course
of lectures on the "Jesuit Reaction which followed the
Reformation." In the last of these I had pointed out the beauty
of Xavier's work, and had shown how natural had been the immense
growth of myth and legend in connection with it. Among my hearers
was Goldwin Smith, and as we came out he said: "I have often
thought that if any one were to take a series of the published
lives of one of the great Jesuit saints, beginning at the
beginning and comparing the successive biographies as they have
appeared, century after century, down to our own time much light
would be thrown upon the evolution of the miraculous in
religion." I was struck by this idea, and it occurred to me that,
of all such examples, that of Francis Xavier would be the most
fruitful and interesting. For we have, to begin with, his own
letters written from the scene of his great missionary labors in
the East, in which no miracles appear. We have the letters of his
associates at that period, in which there is also no knowledge
shown of any miracles performed by him. We also have the great
speeches of Laynez, one of Xavier's associates, who, at the
Council of Trent, did his best to promote Jesuit interests, and
who yet showed no knowledge of any miracles performed by Xavier.
We have the very important work by Joseph Acosta, the eminent
provincial of the Jesuits, written at a later period, largely on
the conversion of the Indies, and especially on Xavier's part in
it, which, while accepting, in a perfunctory way, the attribution
of miracles to Xavier, gives us reasoning which seems entirely to
discredit them. Then we have biographies of Xavier, published
soon after his death, in which very slight traces of miracles
begin to be found; then other biographies later and later,
century after century, in which more and more miracles appear,
and earlier miracles of very simple character grow more and more
complex and astounding, until finally we see him credited with a
vast number of the most striking miracles ever conceived of. In
order to develop the subject I have collected books and documents
of every sort bearing upon it from his time to ours, and have
given a brief summary of the results in my "History of the
Warfare of Science." But the full development of this subject,
which throws intense light upon the growth of miracles in the
biographies of so many benefactors of our race, must probably be
left to others.

It should be treated with judicial fairness. There should not be
a trace of prejudice against the church Xavier served. The
infallibility of the Pope who canonized him was indeed committed
to the reality of miracles which Xavier certainly never
performed; but the church at large cannot justly be blamed for
this: it was indeed made the more illustrious by Xavier's great
example. The evil, if evil there was, lay in human nature, and a
proper history of this evolution of myth and legend, by throwing
light into one of the strongest propensities of devout minds,
would give a most valuable warning against basing religious
systems on miraculous claims which are constantly becoming more
and more discredited and therefore more and more dangerous to any
system which persists in using them.

Still another project interested me; effort connected with it was
a kind of recreation; this project was formed during my attache
days at St. Petersburg with Governor Seymour. It was a brief
biography of Thomas Jefferson. I made some headway in it, but was
at last painfully convinced that I should never have time to
finish it worthily. Besides this, after the Civil War, Jefferson,
though still interesting to me, was by no means so great a man in
my eyes as he had been. Perhaps no doctrine ever cost any other
country so dear as Jefferson's pet theory of State rights cost
the United States: nearly a million of lives lost on
battle-fields, in prisons, and in hospitals; nearly ten thousand
millions of dollars poured into gulfs of hatred.

With another project I was more fortunate. In 1875 I was asked to
prepare a bibliographical introduction to Mr. O'Connor Morris's
short history of the French Revolution. This I did with much
care, for it seemed to me that this period in history, giving
most interesting material for study and thought, had been much
obscured by ideas drawn from trashy books instead of from the
really good authorities.

Having finished this short bibliography, it occurred to me that a
much more extensive work, giving a selection of the best
authorities on all the main periods of modern history, might be
useful. This I began, and was deeply interested in it; but here,
as in various other projects, the fates were against me. Being
appointed a commissioner to the French Exposition, and seeing in
this an opportunity to do other work which I had at heart, I
asked my successor in the professorship of history at the
University of Michigan, who at a later period became my successor
as president of Cornell, Dr. Charles Kendall Adams, to take the
work off my hands. This he did, and produced a book far better
than any which I could have written. The kind remarks in his
preface regarding my suggestions I greatly prize, and feel that
this project, at least, though I could not accomplish it, had a
most happy issue.

Another project which I have long cherished is of a very
different sort; and though it may not be possible for me to carry
it out, my hope is that some other person will do so. For many
years I have noted with pride the munificent gifts made for
educational and charitable purposes in the United States. It is a
noble history,--one which does honor not only to our own country,
but to human nature. No other country has seen any munificence
which approaches that so familiar to Americans. The records show
that during the year 1903 nearly, if not quite, eighty millions
of dollars were given by private parties for these public
purposes. It has long seemed to me that a little book based on
the history of such gifts, pointing out the lines in which they
have been most successful, might be of much use, and more than
once I have talked over with my dear friend Gilman, at present
president of the Carnegie Institution at Washington, the idea of
our working together in the production of a pamphlet or volume
with some such title as, "What Rich Americans have Done and can
Do with their Money." But my friend has been busy in his great
work of founding and developing the university at Baltimore, I
have been of late years occupied in other parts of the world, and
so this project remains unfulfilled. There are many reasons for
the publication of such a book. Most of the gifts above referred
to have been wisely made; but some have not, and a considerable
number have caused confusion in American education rather than
aided its healthful development. Many good things have resulted
from these gifts, but some vastly important matters have been
utterly neglected. We have seen excellent small colleges
transformed by gifts into pretentious and inadequate shams called
"universities"; we have seen great telescopes given without any
accompanying instruments, and with no provision for an
observatory; magnificent collections in geology given to
institutions which had no professor in that science; beautiful
herbariums added to institutions where there is no instruction in
botany; professorships of no use established where others of the
utmost importance should have been founded; institutions founded
where they were not needed, and nothing done where they were
needed. He who will write a thoughtful book on this subject,
based upon a careful study of late educational history, may
render a great service. As I revise this chapter I may say that
in an address at Yale in 1903, entitled, "A Patriotic
Investment," I sought to point out one of the many ways in which
rich men may meet a pressing need of our universities with great
good to the country at large.[37]


[37] See "A Patriotic Investment," New Haven, 1903.


Yet another project has occupied much time and thought, and may,
I hope, be yet fully carried out. For many years I have thought
much on our wretched legislation against crime and on the
imperfect administration of such criminal law as we have. Years
ago, after comparing the criminal statistics of our own country
with those of other nations, I came to the conclusion that, with
the possible exception of the lower parts of the Italian kingdom,
there is more unpunished murder in our own country than in any
other in the civilized world. This condition of things I found to
be not unknown to others; but there seemed to prevail a sort of
listless hopelessness regarding any remedy for it. Dining in
Philadelphia with my classmate and dear friend Wayne MacVeagh, I
found beside me one of the most eminent judges in Pennsylvania,
and this question of high crime having been broached and the
causes of it discussed, the judge quietly remarked, "The taking
of life, after a full and fair trial, as a penalty for murder,
seems to be the only form of taking life to which the average
American has any objection." Many of our dealings with murder and
other high crimes would seem to show that the judge was, on the
whole, right. My main study on the subject was made in 1892,
during a journey of more than twelve thousand miles with Mr.
Andrew Carnegie and his party through the Middle, Southern,
Southwestern, Pacific, and Northwestern States. We stopped at all
the important places on our route, and at vast numbers of
unimportant places; at every one of these I bought all the
newspapers obtainable, examined them with reference to this
subject, and found that the long daily record of murders in our
metropolitan journals is far from giving us the full reality. I
constantly found in the local papers, at these out-of-the-way
places, numerous accounts of murders which never reached the
metropolitan journals. Most striking testimony was also given me
by individuals,--in one case by a United States senator, who gave
me the history of a country merchant, in one of the Southwestern
States, who had at different times killed eight persons, and who
at his last venture, endeavoring to kill a man who had vexed him
in a mere verbal quarrel, had fired into a lumber-wagon
containing a party coming from church, and killed three persons,
one of them a little girl. And my informant added that this
murderer had never been punished. In California I saw walking
jauntily along the streets, and afterward discoursing in a
drawing-room, a man who, on being cautioned by a policeman while
disturbing the public peace a year or two before, had simply shot
the policeman dead, and had been tried twice, but each time with
a disagreement of the jury. Multitudes of other cases I found
equally bad. I collected a mass of material illustrating the
subject, and on this based an address given for the first time in
San Francisco, and afterward at Boston, New York, New Haven,
Cornell University, and the State universities of Wisconsin and
Minnesota. My aim was to arouse thinking men to the importance of
the subject, and I now hope to prepare a discussion of "The
Problem of High Crime," to be divided into three parts, the first
on the present condition of the problem, the second on its
origin, and the third on possible and probable remedies.

Of all my projects for historical treatises, there are two which
I have dreamed of for many years, hoping against hope for their
realization. I have tried to induce some of our younger
historical professors to undertake them or to train up students
to undertake them; and, as the time has gone by when I can devote
myself to them, I now mention them in the hope that some one will
arise to do honor to himself and to our country by developing
them.

The first of these is a history of the middle ages in the general
style of Robertson's "Introduction to the Life of Charles V."
Years ago, when beginning my work as a professor of modern
history at the University of Michigan, I felt greatly the need
for my students of some work which should show briefly but
clearly the transition from ancient history to modern. Life is
not long enough for the study of the minute details of the
mediaeval period in addition to ancient and modern history. What
is needed for the mass of thinking young men is something which
shall show what the work was which was accomplished between the
fall of Rome and the new beginnings of civilization at the
Renascence and the Reformation. For this purpose Robertson's work
was once a masterpiece. It has rendered great services not only
in English-speaking lands, but in others, by enabling thinking
men to see how this modern world has been developed out of the
past and to gain some ideas as to the way in which a yet nobler
civilization may be developed out of the present Robertson's work
still remains a classic, but modern historical research has
superseded large parts of it, and what is now needed is a short
history--of, say, three hundred pages--carried out on the main
lines of Robertson, taking in succession the most important
subjects in the evolution of mediaeval history, discarding all
excepting the leading points in chronology, and bringing out
clearly the sequence of great historical causes and results from
the downfall of Rome to the formation of the great modern states.
And there might well be brought into connection with this what
Robertson did not give--namely, sketches showing the character
and work of some of the men who wrought most powerfully in this
transition.

During my stay at the University of Michigan, I made a beginning
of such a history by giving a course of lectures on the growth of
civilization in the middle ages, taking up such subjects as the
downfall of Rome, the barbarian invasion, the rise of the papacy,
feudalism, Mohammedanism, the anti-feudal effects of the
crusades, the rise of free cities, the growth of law, the growth
of literature, and ending with the centralization of monarchical
power in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. But the lectures
then prepared were based merely upon copious notes and given, as
regarded phrasing, extemporaneously. It is too late for me now to
write them out or to present the subject in the light of modern
historical research; but I know of no subject which is better
calculated to broaden the mind and extend the horizon of
historical studies in our universities. Provost Stille of the
University of Pennsylvania did indeed carry out, in part,
something of this kind, but time failed him for making more than
a beginning. The man who, of all in our time, seems to me best
fitted to undertake this much needed work is Frederic Harrison.
If the general method of Robertson were combined with the spirit
shown in the early chapters of Harrison's book on "The Meaning of
History," the resultant work would be not only of great service,
but attractive to all thinking men.

And, last of all, a project which has long been one of my
dreams--a "History of Civilization in Spain." Were I twenty years
younger, I would gladly cut myself loose from all entanglements
and throw myself into this wholly. It seems to me the most
suggestive history now to be written. The material at hand is
ample and easily accessible. A multitude of historians have made
remarkable contributions to it, and among these, in our own
country, Irving, Prescott, Motley, Ticknor, and Lea; in England,
Froude, Ford, Buckle, and others have given many pregnant
suggestions and some increase of knowledge; Germany and France
have contributed much in the form of printed books; Spain, much
in the publication of archives and sundry interesting histories
apologizing for the worst things in Spanish history; the
Netherlands have also contributed documents of great value. There
is little need of delving among manuscripts; that has already
been done, and the results are easily within reach of any
scholar. The "History of Civilization in Spain" is a history of
perhaps the finest amalgamation of races which was made at the
downfall of the Roman Empire; of splendid beginnings of liberty
and its noble exercise in the middle ages; of high endeavor; of a
wonderful growth in art and literature. But it is also a history
of the undermining and destruction of all this great growth, so
noble, so beautiful, by tyranny in church and state--tyranny over
body and mind, heart and soul. A simple, thoughtful account of
this evolution of the former glory of Spain, and then of the
causes of her decline to her present condition, would be full of
suggestions for fruitful thought regarding politics, religion,
science, literature, and art. To write such a history was the
best of my dreams. Perhaps, had I been sent in 1879 as minister
to Madrid instead of to Berlin, I might at least have made an
effort to begin it, and, whether successful or not, might have
led other men to continue it. It is now too late for me, but I
still hope that our country will supply some man to undertake it.
Whoever shall write such a book in an honest, broad, and
impartial spirit will gain not only honor for his country and
himself, but will render a great service to mankind.

In closing this chapter on "Plans and Projects, Executed and
Unexecuted," I know well that my confessions will do me no good
in the eyes of many who shall read them. It will be said that I
attempted too many things. In mitigation of such a judgment I may
say that the conditions of American life in the second half of
the century just closed have been very different from those in
most other countries. It has been a building period, a period of
reforms necessitated by the rapid growth of our nation out of
earlier conditions and limitations. Every thinking man who has
felt any responsibility has necessarily been obliged to take part
in many enterprises of various sorts: necessary work has abounded
and has been absolutely forced upon him. It has been a period in
which a man could not well devote himself entirely to the dative
case. Besides this, so far as concerns myself, I had much
practical administrative work to do, was plunged into the midst
of it at two universities and at various posts in the diplomatic
service, to say nothing of many other duties, so that my plans
were constantly interfered with. Like many others during the
latter half of the nineteenth century, I have been obliged to
obey the injunction, "Do the work which lieth nearest thee." It
has happened more than once that when all has been ready for some
work which I greatly desired to do, and which I hoped might be of
use, I have been suddenly drawn off to official duties by
virtually an absolute command. Take two examples out of many: I
had brought my lectures on German history together, had collected
a mass of material for putting them into final shape as a
"History of the Building of the New Germany," and had written two
chapters, when suddenly came the summons from President Cleveland
to take part in the Venezuela Commission,--a summons which it was
impossible to decline. For a year this new work forbade a
continuance of the old; and just as I was again free came the
Bryan effort to capture the Presidency, which, in my opinion,
would have resulted in wide-spread misery at home and in dishonor
to the American name through out the world. Most reluctantly then
I threw down my chosen work and devoted my time to what seemed to
me to be a political duty. Then followed my appointment to the
Berlin Embassy, which could not be declined; and just at the
period when I hoped to secure leisure at Berlin for continuing
the preparation of my book on Germany, there came duties at The
Hague Conference which took my time for nearly a year. It is,
perhaps, unwise for me thus to make a clean breast of it,--"qui
s'excuse, s'accuse"; but I have something other than excuses to
make: I may honestly plead before my old friends and students who
shall read this book that my life has been mainly devoted to
worthy work; that I can look back upon the leading things in it
with satisfaction; that, whether as regards religion, politics,
education, or the public service in general, it will be found not
a matter of unrelated shreds and patches, but to have been
developed in obedience to a well-defined line of purpose. I
review the main things along this line with thankfulness: First,
my work at the University of Michigan, which enabled me to do
something toward preparing the way for a better system of higher
education in the United States; next, my work in the New York
State Senate, which enabled me to aid effectively in developing
the school system in the State, in establishing a health
department in its metropolis, in promoting good legislation in
various fields; and in securing the charter of Cornell
University; next, my part in founding Cornell University and in
maintaining it for more than twenty years; next, the preparation
of a book which, whatever its shortcomings and however deprecated
by many good men, has, as I believe, done service to science, to
education, and to religion; next, many speeches, articles,
pamphlets, which have aided in the development of right reason on
political, financial, and social questions; and, finally, the
opportunity given me at a critical period to aid in restoring and
maintaining good relations between the United States and Germany,
and in establishing the international arbitration tribunal of The
Hague. I say these things not boastingly, but reverently. I have
sought to fight the good fight; I have sought to keep the
faith,--faith in a Power in the universe good enough to make
truth-seeking wise, and strong enough to make truth-telling
effective,--faith in the rise of man rather than in the fall of
man,--faith in the gradual evolution and ultimate prevalence of
right reason among men. So much I hope to be pardoned for giving
as an apologia pro vita mea.



PART VIII

RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT

CHAPTER LVIII

EARLY IMPRESSIONS--1832-1851

When the colonists from New England came into central and western
New York, at the end of the eighteenth century, they wrote their
main ideas large upon the towns they founded. Especially was this
evident at my birthplace on the head waters of the Susquehanna.
In the heart of the little village they laid out, largely and
liberally, "the Green"; across the middle of this there gradually
rose a line of wooden structures as stately as they knew how to
make them,--the orthodox Congregational church standing at the
center; close beside this church stood the "academy"; and then,
on either side, the churches of the Baptists, Methodists, and
Episcopalians. Thus were represented religion, education, and
church equality.

The Episcopal church, as belonging to the least numerous
congregation, was at the extreme left, and the smallest building
of all. It was easily recognized. All the others were in a sort
of quasi-Italian style of the seventeenth century, like those
commonly found in New England; but this was in a kind of
"carpenter's Gothic" which had grown out of vague recollections
of the mother-country. To this building I was taken for baptism,
and with it are connected my first recollections of public
worship. My parents were very devoted members of the Protestant
Episcopal Church. With a small number of others of like mind,
they had taken refuge in it from the storms of fanaticism which
swept through western New York during the early years of the
nineteenth century. For that was the time of great "revivals."
The tremendous assertions of Jonathan Edwards regarding the
tyranny of God, having been taken up by a multitude of men who
were infinitely Edwards's inferiors in everything save
lung-power, were spread with much din through many churches:
pictures of an angry Moloch holding over the infernal fires the
creatures whom he had predestined to rebel, and the statement
that "hell is filled with infants not a span long," were among
the choice oratorical outgrowths of this period. With these loud
and lurid utterances went strivings after sacerdotal rule. The
presbyter--"old priest writ large"--took high ground in all these
villages: the simplest and most harmless amusements were
denounced, and church members guilty of taking part in them were
obliged to stand in the broad aisle and be publicly reprimanded
from the pulpit.

My mother was thoughtful, gentle, and kindly; in the midst of all
this froth and fury some one lent her a prayer-book; this led her
to join in the devotions of a little knot of people who had been
brought up to use it; and among these she found peace. My father,
who was a man of great energy and vigor, was attracted to this
little company; and not long afterward rose the little church on
the Green, served at first by such clergymen as chanced to be in
that part of the State.

Among these was a recent graduate of the Episcopal College at
Geneva on Seneca Lake--Henry Gregory. His seemed to be a soul
which by some mistake had escaped out of the thirteenth century
into the nineteenth. He was slight in build, delicate in health,
and ascetic in habits, his one interest in the world being the
upbuilding of the kingdom of God--as he understood it. It was the
time when Pusey, Newman, Keble, and their compeers were reviving
mediaeval Christianity; their ideas took strong hold upon many
earnest men in the western world, and among these no one absorbed
them more fully than this young missionary. He was honest,
fearless, self-sacrificing, and these qualities soon gave him a
strong hold upon his flock,--the hold of a mediaeval saint upon
pilgrims seeking refuge from a world cruel and perverse.

Seeing this, sundry clergymen and influential laymen of what were
known as the "evangelical denominations" attempted to refute his
arguments and discredit his practices. That was the very thing
which he and his congregation most needed: under this opposition
his fervor deepened, his mediaeval characteristics developed, his
little band of the faithful increased, and more and more they
adored him; but this adoration did not in the least injure him:
he remained the same gentle, fearless, narrow, uncompromising man
throughout his long life.

My first recollections of religious worship in the little old
church take me back to my fourth year; and I can remember well,
at the age of five, standing between my father and mother,
reading the Psalter with them as best I could, joining in the
chants and looking with great awe on the service as it went on
before my admiring eyes. So much did it impress me that from my
sixth to my twelfth year I always looked forward to Sunday
morning with longing. The prayers, the chants, the hymns, all had
a great attraction for me,--and this although I was somewhat
severely held to the proper observance of worship. I remember
well that at the age of six years, if I faltered in the public
reading of the Psalter, a gentle rap on the side of my head from
my father's knuckles reminded me of my duty.

At various times since I have been present at the most gorgeous
services of the Anglican, Latin, Russian, and Oriental churches;
have heard the Pope, surrounded by his cardinals, sing mass at
the high altar of St. Peter's; have seen the Metropolitan
Archbishop of Moscow, surrounded by prelates of the Russian
Empire, conduct the burial of a czar; have seen the highest
Lutheran dignitaries solemnize the marriage of a German kaiser;
have sat under the ministrations of sundry archbishops of
Canterbury; have been present at high mass performed by the
Archbishop of Athens under the shadow of Mars Hill and the
Parthenon; and, though I am singularly susceptible to the
influence of such pageants, especially if they are accompanied by
noble music, no one of these has ever made so great an impression
upon me as that simple Anglo-American service performed by a
surpliced clergyman with a country choir and devout assemblage in
this little village church. Curiously enough, one custom, which
high-churchmen long ago discarded as beneath the proper dignity
of the service, was perhaps the thing which impressed me most,
and I have since learned that it generally thus impressed
new-comers to the Episcopal Church: this was the retirement of
the clergyman, at the close of the regular morning prayer, to the
vestry, where he left his surplice, and whence he emerged in a
black Geneva gown, in which he then preached the sermon. This
simple feature in the ceremonial greatly impressed me, and led me
to ask the reason for it: at which answer was made that the
clergyman wore his white surplice as long as he was using God's
words, but that he wore his black gown whenever he used his own.

Though comparatively little was said by Episcopalians regarding
religious experiences or pious states of mind, there was an
atmosphere of orderly decency during the whole service which
could hardly fail to make an impression on all thinking children
brought into it. I remember that when, on one or two occasions, I
was taken to the Congregational church by my grandmother, I was
much shocked at what seemed to me the unfit dress and conduct of
the clergyman,--in a cutaway coat, lounging upon a sofa,--and at
the irreverent ways of the sturdy farmers, who made ready to
leave the church during the final prayer, and even while they
should have been receiving the benediction.

I thus became a devotee. Of the sermons I retained little, except
a few striking assertions or large words; one of my amusements,
on returning home, was conducting a sort of service, on my own
account, with those of the household who were willing to take
part in it; and, from some traditions preserved in the family
regarding my utterances on such occasions, a droll sort of
service it must have been.

In my seventh year the family removed to Syracuse, the "Central
City" of the State, already beginning a wonderful career,
although at that time of less than six thousand inhabitants. My
experience in the new city was prefaced by an excursion, with my
father and mother and younger brother, to Buffalo and Niagara;
and as the railways through central New York were then
unfinished,--and, indeed, but few of them begun,--we made the
journey almost entirely on a canal-packet. Perhaps my most vivid
remembrance of this voyage is that of the fervid prayers I then
put up against shipwreck.

At Syracuse was a much larger and more influential Protestant
Episcopal church than that which we had left,--next, indeed, in
importance to the Presbyterian body. That church--St. Paul's--has
since become the mother of a large number of others, and has been
made the cathedral of a new diocese. In this my father, by virtue
of his vigor in everything he undertook, was soon made a
vestryman, and finally senior warden; and, the rectorate
happening to fall vacant, he recommended for the place our former
clergyman, Henry Gregory. He came, and his work in the new place
was soon even more effective than in the old.

His first influence made me a most determined little bigot, and I
remember well my battles in behalf of high-church ideas with
various Presbyterian boys, and especially with the son of the
Presbyterian pastor. In those days went on a famous controversy
provoked by a speech at a New England dinner in the city of New
York which had set by the ears two eminent divines--the Rev. Dr.
Wainwright, Episcopalian, and the Rev. Dr. Potts; Presbyterian.
Dr. Potts had insisted that the Puritans had founded a "church
without a bishop and a state without a king"; Dr. Wainwright
insisted that there could be no church without a bishop; and on
this the two champions joined issue. Armed with the weapons
furnished me in the church catechism, in sundry sermons, and in
pious reading, I took up the cudgels, and the battles then waged
were many and severe.

One little outgrowth of my religious intolerance was quickly
nipped in the bud. As I was returning home one evening with a
group of scampish boys, one of them pointed out the "Jew
store,"--in those days a new thing,--and reminded us that the
proprietor worshiped on Saturday and, doubtless, committed other
abominations. At this, with one accord, we did what we could to
mete out the Old Testament punishment for blasphemy--we threw
stones at his door. My father, hearing of this, dealt with me
sharply and shortly, and taught me most effectually to leave
dealing with the Jewish religion to the Almighty. I have never
since been tempted to join in any anti-Semitic movement whatever.

Meanwhile Mr. Gregory--or, as he afterward became, Dr.
Gregory--was fighting the battles of the church in many ways, and
some of his sermons made a great impression upon me. Of these one
was entitled "The Church not a Sect," the text being, "For as to
this sect, we know that it is everywhere spoken against." Another
sermon showed, especially, his uncompromising spirit and took yet
stronger hold upon me; it was given on an occasion when
Presbyterians, Methodists, and Baptists were drawn in large
numbers to his church; but, disdaining all efforts to propitiate
them, he took as his subject "The Sin of Korah," who set himself
up against the regularly ordained priesthood, and was, with all
his adherents, fearfully punished. The conclusion was easily
drawn by all the "dissenters" present. On another occasion of the
same sort, when his church was filled with people from other
congregations, he took as his subject the story of Naaman the
Syrian, his text being, "Are not Abana and Pharphar, rivers of
Damascus, better than all the rivers of Israel? May I not wash in
them and be clean?" The good rector's answer was, in effect, "No,
you may not. The Almighty designated the river Jordan as the
means for securing health and safety; and so in these times he
has designated for a similar purpose the church--which is the
Protestant Episcopal Church: outside of that--as the one
appointed by him--you have no hope."

But gradually there came in my mind a reaction, and curiously, it
started from my love for my grandmother--my mother's mother.
Among all the women whom I remember in my early life, she was the
kindest and most lovely. She had been brought as a young girl, by
her parents, from Old Guilford in Connecticut; and in her later
life she often told me cheerily of the days of privation and
toil, of wolves howling about the cottages of the little New York
settlement in winter, of journeys twenty miles to church, of
riding on horseback from early morning until late in the evening,
through the forests, to bring flour from the mill. She was
quietly religious, reading every day from her New Testament, but
remaining in the old Congregational Church which my mother had
left. I remember once asking her why she did not go with the rest
of us to the Episcopal Church. Her answer was, "Well, dear child,
the Episcopal Church is just the church for your father and
mother and for you children; you are all young and active, but I
am getting old and rather stout, and there is a little too much
getting up and sitting down in your church for me." To the harsh
Calvinism of her creed she seemed to pay no attention, and, if
hard pressed by me, used to say, "Well, sonny, there is, of
course, some merciful way out of it all." Her religion took every
kindly form. She loved every person worth loving,--and some not
worth loving,--and her benefactions were extended to people of
every creed; especially was she a sort of Providence to the poor
Catholic Irish of the lower part of the town. To us children she
was especially devoted--reconciling us in our quarrels, soothing
us in our sorrows, comforting us in our disappointments, and
carrying us through our sicknesses. She used great common sense
in her care of us; kindly and gentle to the last degree, there
was one thing she would never allow, and this was that the
children, even when they became quite large, should be out of the
house, in the streets or public places, after dark, without an
elderly and trusty companion. Though my brother and I used to
regard this as her one fault, it was really a great service to
us; for, as soon as dusk came on, if we were tempted to linger in
the streets or in public places, we returned home, since we knew
that if we did not we should soon see her coming to remind us,
and this was, of course, a serious blow to our pride.

When, then, I sat in church and heard our mediaeval saint preach
with ardor and unction, Sunday after Sunday, that the promises
were made to the church alone; that those outside it had
virtually no part in God's goodness; that they were probably
lost,--I thought of this dear, sweet old lady, and my heart rose
in rebellion. She was certainly the best Christian I knew, and
the idea that she should be punished for saying her prayers in
the Presbyterian Church was abhorrent to me. I made up my mind
that, if she was to be lost, I would be lost with her; and soon,
under the influence of thoughts like these, I became a religious
rebel.

The matter was little helped when our good rector preached upon
retribution for sin. He held the most extreme views regarding
future punishment; and the more he developed them, the more my
mind rejected the idea that so many good people about me,
especially the one whom I loved so much, could be subjected to
such tortures,--and the more my heart rebelled against the Moloch
who had established and was administering so horrible a system. I
must have been about twelve years old when it thus occurred to me
to question the whole sacred theory; and this questioning was
started into vigorous life after visiting, with some other
school-boys, the Presbyterian church when a "revival" was going
on. As I entered, a very unspiritual-looking preacher was laying
down the most severe doctrines of divine retribution. In front of
him were several of our neighbors' daughters, many of them my
schoolmates, whom I regarded as thoroughly sweet and good; and
they were in tears, apparently broken-hearted under the storm of
wrath which poured over them from the mouth of the revival
preacher. At this I revolted entirely, and from that moment I
disbelieved in the whole doctrine, utterly and totally. I felt
that these kindly girls, to whom I had looked with so much
admiration in the classes at school and in our various little
gatherings, were infinitely more worthy of the divine favor than
was the big, fleshly creature storming and raging and claiming to
announce a divine message.

Some influence on my youthful thinking had also been exercised by
sundry occurrences in our own parish. Our good rector was
especially fond of preaching upon "baptismal regeneration";
taking the extreme high-church view and thereby driving out some
of the best "evangelicals" from his congregation. One of these I
remember especially--a serene, dignified old man, Mr. John
Durnford. After he left our church he took his place among the
Presbyterians, and I remember, despite my broad-church
tendencies, thinking that he was incurring serious danger by such
apostasy; but as I noted him, year after year, devoting himself
to the newly founded orphan-asylum, giving all his spare time to
the care of the children gathered there, even going into the
market and thence bearing provisions to them in a basket, I began
to feel that perhaps his soul was safe, after all. I bethought
myself that, with all my reading of the Bible, I had never found
any text which required a man to believe in the doctrines of the
Protestant Episcopal Church; but that I had found, in the words
of Jesus himself, as well as in the text of St James regarding
"pure religion and undefiled," declarations which seemed to
commend, especially, labors for the poor, fatherless, and
afflicted, like those of Mr. Durnford.

But still more marked was the influence on my thinking of a
painful clash in the parish. It came on this wise. Our rector was
one day called to attend the funeral of a little child but a few
weeks old, the daughter of neighbors of ours. The father was a
big-bodied, big-hearted, big-voiced, successful man of business,
well liked for his bluff cordiality and generosity, who went to
church because his wife went. The mother was a sweet, kindly,
delicate woman, the daughter of a clergyman, and devoted to the
church.

It happened that, for various reasons, and more especially on
account of the absence of the father from home on business, the
baptism of the child had been delayed until its sudden death
prevented the rite forever.

The family and neighbors being assembled at the house, and the
service about to begin, an old maiden lady, who had deeply
absorbed the teachings of Dr. Gregory and wished to impress them
on those present, said to the father, audibly and with a groan,
"Oh, Mr.----, what a pity that the baby was not baptized!" to
which the rector responded, with a deep sigh and in a most
plaintive voice, "Yes!" Thereupon the mother of the child burst
into loud and passionate weeping, and at this the father, big and
impulsive as he was, lost all control of himself. Rising from his
chair, he strode to the side of the rector and said, "That is a
slander on the Almighty; none but a devil could, for my
negligence, punish this lovely little child by ages of torture.
Take it back--take it back, sir; or, by the God that made us, I
will take you by the neck and throw you into the street!" At this
the gentle rector faltered out that he did not presume to limit
the mercy of God, and after a time the service went on; but
sermons on baptismal regeneration from our pulpit were never
afterward frequent or cogent.

Startled as I was at this scene, I felt that the doctrine had not
stood the test. More and more there was developed in me that
feeling which Lord Bacon expressed so profoundly and pithily, in
his essay on "Superstition," when he said:

It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an
opinion as is unworthy of Him; for if the one is unbelief, the
other is contumely: and certainly superstition is the reproach of
the Deity. Plutarch saith well to that purpose: "Surely, I had
rather a great deal that men should say there was no such man at
all as Plutarch, than that they should say that Plutarch ate his
children as soon as they were born;"--as the poets speak of
Saturn: and as the contumely is greater towards God, so the
danger is greater towards men.


The "danger" of which Bacon speaks has been noted by me often,
both before and since I read his essays. Once, indeed, when a
very orthodox lady had declared to me her conviction that every
disbeliever in the divinity of the second person in the Trinity
must be lost, I warned her of this danger and said, "We lately
had President Grant here on the university grounds. Suppose your
little girl, having met the President, and having been told that
he was the great general of the war and President of the United
States, should assert her disbelief, basing it on the fact that
she had formed the idea of a much more showy and gorgeous person
than this quiet, modest little man; and suppose that General
Grant, on hearing of the child's mistake, should cruelly punish
her for it; what would you think of him? and what would he think
of you, were he to know that you asserted that he could be so
contemptibly unjust and cruel? The child's utterance would not in
the slightest offend him, but your imputation to him of such
vileness would most certainly anger him."

A contribution to my religious development came also from a very
different quarter. Our kitchen Bridget, one of the best of her
kind, lent me her book of devotion--the "Ursuline Manual." It
interested me much until I found in it the reasons very cogently
given why salvation was confined to the Roman Catholic Church.
This disgusted me. According to this, even our good rector had no
more chance of salvation than a Presbyterian or Baptist or
Methodist minister. But this serious view of the case was
disturbed by a humorous analogy. There were then fighting
vigorously through the advertisement columns of the newspapers
two rival doctors, each claiming to produce the only salutary
"sarsaparilla," and each named Townsend. At first one claimed to
be "THE Dr. Townsend," then the other claimed to be "THE Dr.
Townsend"; the first rejoined that HE was "Dr. JACOB Townsend,"
whereupon the other insisted that HE was "Dr. Jacob Townsend"; to
this the first answered that HE was "the ORIGINAL Dr. Jacob
Townsend," and the other then declared that HE was "the ORIGINAL
Dr. Jacob Townsend"; and so on, through issue after issue, each
supplying statements, certificates, arguments, rejoinders ad
nauseam. More and more, then, the various divines insisting on
the exclusive possession of the only remedy for sin reminded me
of these eminent sarsaparilla-makers,--each declaring his own
concoction genuine and all others spurious, each glorifying
himself as possessing the original recipe and denouncing his
rivals as pretenders.

Another contribution to my thought was made one day in the
Sunday-school. While reading in the New Testament I had noticed
the difficulties involved in the two genealogies of Jesus of
Nazareth--that in Matthew and that in Luke. On my asking the
Sunday-school teacher for an explanation, he gave the offhand
answer that one was the genealogy of Joseph and the other of
Mary. Of course it did not take me long to find this answer
inadequate; and, as a consequence, Sunday-school teaching lost
much of its effect upon me.

But there was still one powerful influence left in behalf of the
old creed. From time to time came the visitation by the bishop,
Dr. DeLancey. He was the most IMPRESSIVE man I have ever seen. I
have stood in the presence of many prelates in my day, from Pope
Pius IX down; but no one of them has ever so awed me as this
Bishop of Western New York. His entry into a church chancel was
an event; no music could be finer than his reading of the
service; his confirmation prayer still dwells in my memory as the
most perfect petition I have ever heard; and his simple, earnest
sermons took strong hold of me. His personal influence was also
great. Goldsmith's lines in the "Deserted Village,"

     "Even children follow'd with endearing wile
      And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile,"

accurately pictured the feelings of many of us as we lingered
after service to see him greet our fathers and mothers.

As to my biblical studies, they were continued, though not
perhaps as systematically as they might well have been. The
Protestant Episcopal Church has for a youth at least one
advantage in this respect,--that the services including Introits,
Canticles, Psalter, Lessons, Epistles Gospels, and various
quotations, familiarize him with the noblest utterances in our
sacred books. My mother had received instruction in Bible class
and prized Scripture reading; therefore it was that, when I was
allowed to stay at home from church on Sunday afternoons, it was
always on condition that I should read a certain number of
chapters in the Bible and prove to her upon her return that I had
read them carefully,--and this was not without its uses.

Here I am reminded of a somewhat curious event. One afternoon,
when I had been permitted to remain at home, on the usual
conditions, my mother, returning from service, said to me that by
staying away from church I had missed something very interesting:
that there was a good sermon well given, that the preacher was of
fine appearance, dignified,--and an Indian; but that she would
never have suspected him to be an Indian were it not for his
words at the conclusion of his sermon, which were as follows:
"And now, my brethren, I leave you. We shall probably never meet
again in this world, and doubtless most of you will forget all
the counsels I have given you and remember nothing save that you
have to-day heard a sermon from an Indian." The point of interest
really was that this preacher, Eleazar Williams, though he gave
no hint of it on this occasion, believed himself, and was
believed by many, to be the lost Dauphin of France, Louis XVII,
and that decidedly skilful arguments in favor of his claims were
published by the Rev. Mr. Hanson and others. One of the most
intelligent women I have ever known believes to this hour that
Eleazar Williams, generally known as a half-breed Indian born in
Canada, was the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, and that
his portly form and Bourbon face were convincing additions to
other more cogent testimonies.

At various times I sought light from new sources, and, finding on
the family shelves a series of books called the "Evangelical
Family Library," I read sundry replies to Hume, Gibbon, and other
deists; but the arguments of Hume and Gibbon and those who
thought with them seemed to me, to say the least, quite as
forcible as those in answer to them. These replies simply
strengthened my tendency to doubt, and what I heard at church
rather increased the difficulty; for the favorite subjects of
sermons in the Episcopal Church of those days, after the
"Apostolical Succession" and "Baptismal Regeneration," were the
perfections of the church order, the beauty of its services, and
the almost divine character of the Prayer-book. These topics were
developed in all the moods and tenses; the beauties of our own
service were constantly contrasted with the crudities and
absurdities of the worship practised by others; and although,
since those days, left to my own observation, I have found much
truth in these comparisons, they produced upon me at that time
anything but a good effect. It was like a beautiful woman coming
into an assemblage; calling attention to the perfections of her
own face, form, and garments; claiming loudly to be the most
beautiful person in the room; and so, finally, becoming the least
attractive person present.

This state of mind was deepened by my first experiences at
college. I had, from my early boyhood, wished to go to Yale; but,
under pressure from the bishop, I was sent to the little church
college at Geneva in western New York There were excellent men
among its professors--men whom I came to love and admire; but its
faculty, its endowment, its equipment, were insufficient, and for
fear of driving away the sons of its wealthy and influential
patrons it could not afford to insist either on high scholarship
or good discipline, so that the work done was most
unsatisfactory. And here I may mention that the especial claim
put forth by this college, as by so many others like it
throughout the country, was that, with so small a body of
students directly under church control, both the intellectual and
religious interests of the students would be better guarded than
they could be in the larger and comparatively unsectarian
institutions. The very contrary was then true; and various
experiences have shown me that, as a rule, little sectarian
colleges, if too feeble to exercise strong discipline or insist
on thorough work, are the more dangerous. As it was, I felt that
in this particular case a wrong had been done me and charged that
wrong against the church system.

I have been glad to learn of late years that the college just
referred to has, since my student days, shared the upward
progress of its sister institutions and that with more means and
better appliances a succession of superior instructors have been
able to bring its students into steady good work and under
excellent discipline.

Much was made in those days of the "Christian evidences," and one
statement then put forth, regarding the miraculous, produced a
temporary effect upon me. This statement was that the claims of
the religions opposed to Christianity did not rest upon miracles;
that there was, at any rate, no real testimony to any except
Christian miracles; and that, as a rule, other religions did not
pretend to exhibit any. But when I, shortly afterward, read the
life of Mohammed, and saw what a great part was played by his
miracle at the battle of Beder, during which, on his throwing
dust into the air, there came to his rescue legions of angels,
who were seen and testified to by many on the field,--both by his
friends and by his enemies; and when I found that miraculous
testimonies play a leading part in all religions, even in favor
of doctrines the most cruel and absurd, I felt that the
"evidences" must be weak which brought forward an argument so ill
grounded. Moreover, in my varied reading I came across multitudes
of miracles attributed to saints of the Roman Catholic
Church,--miracles for which myriads of good men and women were
ready to lay down their lives in attestation of their
belief,--and if we must accept one class of miracles, I could not
see why we should not accept the other.

At the close of this first year, for reasons given elsewhere, I
broke away from this little college and went to Yale.



CHAPTER LIX

IN THE NEW ENGLAND ATMOSPHERE--1851-1853

At Yale I found myself in the midst of New England
Congregationalism; but I cannot say that it helped me much
religiously. It, indeed, broadened my view, since I was
associated with professors and students of various forms of
Christianity, and came to respect them, not for what they
professed, but for what they really were.

There also I read under an excellent professor--my dear friend
the late President Porter--Butler's "Analogy"; but, though it
impressed me, it left on my mind the effect of a strong piece of
special pleading,--of a series of arguments equally valuable for
any religion which had once "got itself established."

Here, too, a repellent influence was exercised upon me by a
"revival." What was called a "religious interest" began to be
shown in sundry student meetings, and soon it came in with a full
tide. I was induced to go into one or two of these assemblies,
and was somewhat impressed by the penitence shown and the pledges
given by some of my college friends. But within a year the whole
thing was dead. Several of the men who had been loudest in their
expressions of penitence and determination to accept Christianity
became worse than ever: they were like logs stranded high and dry
after a freshet.

But this religious revival in college was infinitely better than
one which ran its course in the immediate neighborhood. Just at
the corner of the college grounds was a Methodist Episcopal
church, the principal one in New Haven, and, a professional
revivalist having begun his work there, the church was soon
thronged. Blasphemy and ribaldry were the preacher's great
attractions. One of the prayers attributed to him ran as follows:
"Come down among us, O Lord! Come straight through the roof; I'll
pay for the shingles!" Night after night the galleries were
crowded with students laughing at this impious farce; and among
them, one evening, came "Charley" Chotard of Mississippi. Chotard
was a very handsome fellow: slender, well formed, six feet three
inches tall, and in any crowd a man of mark, like King Saul. In
the midst of the proceedings, at some grotesque utterance of the
revivalist, the students in the galleries burst into laughter.
The preacher, angrily turning his eyes upon the offenders, saw,
first of all, Chotard, and called out to him: "You lightning-rod
of hell, you flag-staff of damnation, come down from there!" Of
course no such grotesque scenes were ever allowed in the college
chapel: the services there, though simple, were always dignified;
yet even in these there sometimes appeared incongruous features.

According to tradition in my time, an aged divine, greatly and
justly beloved, from a neighboring city, had been asked to preach
before the students. It was at the time when the whole
English-speaking world had been thrilled by the story of the
relief of Lucknow, and the cry of the Scotch lassie who heard the
defiant slogan and heart-stirring pibroch of the Highlanders
coming to the relief of the besieged had echoed across all the
oceans. Toward the close of his sermon the dear old doctor became
very impressive. He recited the story of Lucknow, and then spoke
in substance as follows: "So to-day, my young friends, I sound in
your ears the slo-o-o-broch of salvation." The alliteration
evidently pleased him, and he repeated it with more and more
emphasis in his peroration. When he sat down another clergyman
who was with him at the sacred desk reminded him of his mistake,
whereupon the good old doctor rose and addressed the students as
follows: "My young friends, you doubtless noticed a mistake in my
final remarks. I said 'slo-o-o-o-broch'; of course I meant
'pi-i-g-a-a-an.'"

Then, too, it must be confessed that some of the weekday prayers
made by lay professors lent themselves rather too easily to
parody. One of my classmates--since known as a grave and
respected judge--was especially gifted in imitating these
petitions, with the very intonations of their authors, and these
parodies were in great demand on festive occasions. The pet
phrases, the choice rhetoric, and the impressive oratory of these
prayers were thus made so familiar to us in caricatures that the
originals were little conducive to devotion.

The influence at Yale of men like Goodrich, Taylor, Woolsey, and
Porter, whom I saw in their professors' chairs, was indeed strong
upon me. I respected and admired them; but their purely religious
teaching took but little hold on me; I can remember clearly but
two or three sermons which I heard preached in Yale chapel. One
was at the setting up of the chapel organ, when Horace Bushnell
of Hartford preached upon music; and another was when President
Woolsey preached a baccalaureate sermon upon "Righteous Anger."
The first of these sermons was very beautiful, but the second was
powerful. It has had an influence--and, I think, a good
influence--on my thoughts from that day to this; and it ought to
be preached in every pulpit in our country, at least once a year,
as an antidote to our sickly, mawkish lenity to crime and wrong.

In those days conformity to religious ideas was carried very far
at Yale. On week-days we had early prayers at about six in the
morning, and evening prayers at about the same hour in the
afternoon; but on Sundays we had not only morning and evening
prayers in the chapel, but morning and afternoon service at
church. I attended St. Paul's Episcopal church, sitting in one of
the gallery pews assigned to undergraduates; but cannot say that
anything that I heard during this period of my life elevated me
especially. I joined in the reading of the Psalter, in the
singing of the chants and hymns, and, occasionally, in reciting
part of the creeds, though more and more this last exercise
became peculiarly distasteful to me.

Time has but confirmed the opinion, which I then began to hold,
that, of all mistaken usages in a church service, the most
unfortunate is this demand which confronts a man who would gladly
unite with Christians in Christian work, and, in a spirit of
loyalty to the Blessed Founder of Christianity, would cheerfully
become a member of the church and receive the benefit of its
ministrations;--the demand that such a man stand and deliver a
creed made no one knows where or by whom, and of which no human
being can adjust the meanings to modern knowledge, or indeed to
human comprehension.

My sympathies, tastes, and aims led me to desire to enter fully
into the church in which I was born; there was no other part of
the service in which I could not do my part; but to stand up and
recite the creeds in all their clauses, honestly, I could not. I
had come to know on what slender foundations rested, for example,
the descent into hell; and, as to the virgin birth, my reading
showed me so weak a basis for it in the New Testament taken as a
whole, and so many similar claims made in behalf of divine
founders of religions, that when I reflected upon the reasons for
holding the doctrine to be an aftergrowth upon the original
legend, it was impossible for me to go on loudly proclaiming my
belief in it. Sometimes I have refrained from reciting any part
of the creed; but often, in my reverence for what I admire in the
service, in my love for those whom I have heard so devoutly take
part in it in days gone by, and in my sympathy with those about
me, I have been wont to do what I could,--have joined in
repeating parts of it, leaving out other parts which I, at least,
ought not to repeat.

Various things combined to increase my distrust for the
prevailing orthodoxy. I had a passion for historical
reading,--indeed, at that time had probably read more and thought
more upon my reading than had most men of my age in college,--and
the more I thus read and thought, the more evident it became to
me that, while the simple religion of the Blessed Founder of
Christianity has gone on through the ages producing the noblest
growths of faith, hope, and charity, many of the beliefs insisted
upon within the church as necessary to salvation were survivals
of primeval superstition, or evolved in obedience to pagan
environment or Jewish habits of thought or Greek metaphysics or
mediaeval interpolations in our sacred books; that most of the
frightful systems and events in modern history have arisen from
theological dogmatism; that the long reign of hideous cruelty in
the administration of the penal law, with its torture-chambers,
its burnings of heretics and witches, its cruelties of every
sort, its repression of so much of sane human instinct and noble
human thought, arose from this source, directly or indirectly;
and that even such ghastly scenes as those of the French
Revolution were provoked by a natural reaction in the minds of a
people whom the church, by its theory of divine retribution, had
educated for ages to be cruel.

But what impressed me most directly as regards the whole orthodox
part of the church was its virtual support of slavery in the
crisis then rapidly approaching. Excellent divines, like Bishop
Hopkins of Vermont, the Rev. Dr Parker of New Jersey, and others
holding high positions in various sects throughout the country,
having based elaborate defenses of slavery upon Scripture, the
church as a whole had acquiesced in this view. I had become
bitterly opposed, first to the encroachments of the slave power
in the new Territories of the United States, and finally to
slavery itself; and this alliance between it and orthodoxy
deepened my distrust of what was known about me as religion. As
the struggle between slavery and freedom deepened, this feeling
of mine increased. During my first year at college the
fugitive-slave law was passed, and this seemed to me the acme of
abominations. There were, it is true, a few religious men who
took high ground against slavery; but these were generally New
England Unitarians or members of other bodies rejected by the
orthodox, and this fact increased my distrust of the dominant
religion.

Some years before this, while yet a boy preparing for college, I
had met for the first time a clergyman of this sort--the Rev.
Samuel Joseph May, pastor of the Unitarian church in Syracuse;
and he had attracted me from the first moment that I saw him.
There was about him something very genial and kindly, which won a
way to all hearts. Though I knew him during many years, he never
made the slightest effort to proselyte me. To every good work in
the community, and especially to all who were down-trodden or
oppressed, he was steadfastly devoted; the Onondaga Indians of
central New York found in him a stanch ally against the
encroachments of their scheming white neighbors; fugitive slaves
knew him as their best friend, ready to risk his own safety in
their behalf.

Although he was the son of an honored Massachusetts family, a
graduate of Harvard, a disciple of Channing, a man of sincere
character and elegant manners, he was evidently dreaded by the
great majority of the orthodox Christians about him. I remember
speaking to him once of a clergyman who had recently arrived in
Syracuse, and who was an excellent scholar. Said Mr. May to me,
"I should like to know him, if that were possible." I asked, "Why
not call upon him?" He answered, "I would gladly do so, but do
you suppose he would return my call?" "Of course he would," I
replied; "he is a gentleman." "Yes," said Mr. May, "no doubt he
is, and so are the other clergymen; yet I have called on them as
they have come, and only two or three of them all have ever
entered my house since." Orthodox fanatics came to remonstrate
and pray with him, but these he generally overcame with his sweet
and kindly manner. To slavery he was an uncompromising foe, being
closely associated with Garrison, Phillips, and the leaders of
the antislavery movement; and so I came to see that there was a
side to Christianity not necessarily friendly to slavery: but I
also saw that it was a side not welcomed by the churches in
general, and especially distrusted in my own family. I remember
taking to him once an old friend of mine, a man of most severe
orthodoxy; and after we had left Mr. May's house I asked my
friend what he thought of the kindly heretic. He answered, "Those
of us who shall be so fortunate as to reach heaven are to be
greatly surprised at some of the people we are to meet there."

As a Yale student I found an additional advantage in the fact
that I could now frequently hear distinguished clergymen who were
more or less outside the orthodox pale. Of these were the liberal
Congregationalists of New York, Brooklyn, and Boston, and, above
all, Henry Ward Beecher, Edwin Chapin, and Theodore Parker. At
various times during my college course I visited Boston, and was
taken by my classmate and old friend George Washburn Smalley to
hear Parker. He drew immense crowds of thoughtful people. The
music-hall, where he spoke, contained about four thousand seats,
and at each visit of mine every seat, so far as I could see, was
filled. Both Parker's prayers and sermons were inspiring. He was
a deeply religious man; probably the most thorough American
scholar, orthodox or unorthodox, of his time; devoted to the
public good and an intense hater of slavery. His influence over
my thinking was, I believe, excellent; his books, and those of
Channing which I read at this time, did me great good by checking
all inclination to cynicism and scoffing; more than any other
person he strengthened my theistic ideas and stopped any tendency
to atheism; the intense conviction with which men like Channing,
Parker, and May spoke of a God in the universe gave a direction
to my thinking which has never been lost.

As to Beecher, nothing could exceed his bold brilliancy. He was a
man of genius; even more a poet than an orator; in sympathy with
every noble cause; and utterly without fear of the pew-holders
inside his church or of the mob outside. Heresy-hunters did not
daunt him. Humor played over much of his sermonizing; wit
coruscated through it; but there was at times a pathos which
pervaded the deep places of the human heart. By virtue of his
poetic insight he sounded depths of thought and feeling which no
mere theological reasoning could ever reach. He was a
man,--indeed, a great man,--but to the end of his life he
retained the freshness of youth. General Grant, who greatly
admired him, once said to me, "Beecher is a boy--a glorious boy."

Beecher's love of nature was a passion. During one of his visits
to Cornell University, I was driving through the woods with him,
and he was in the full tide of brilliant discourse when,
suddenly, he grasped my hand which held the reins and said
peremptorily, "Stop!" I obeyed, and all was still save the note
of a bird in the neighboring thicket. Our stop and silence lasted
perhaps five minutes, when he said, "Did you hear that bird? That
is the----(giving a name I have forgotten). You are lucky to have
him here; I would give a hundred dollars to have him nest as near
me."

During this visit of his to my house, I remember finding, one
morning, that he had been out of doors since daylight; and on my
expressing surprise at his rising so early after sitting up so
late, he said, "I wanted to enjoy the squirrels in your trees."

Wonderful, too, was his facility, not merely in preaching, but in
thinking. When, on another visit, he stayed with me, he took no
thought regarding his sermon at the university chapel, so far as
one could see. Every waking moment was filled with things which
apparently made preparation for preaching impossible. I became
somewhat nervous over this neglect; for, so far as I could learn,
he had nothing written, he never spoke from memory, and not only
the students, but the people from the whole country round about,
were crowding toward the chapel.

Up to the last moment before leaving my house for the morning
service, he discussed the best shrubs for planting throughout our
groves and woods, and the best grasses to use in getting a good
turf upon the university grounds. But, on leaving the house, he
became silent and walked slowly, his eyes fixed steadily on the
ground; and as I took it for granted that he was collecting his
thoughts for his sermon, I was careful not to disturb him. As we
reached the chapel porch, a vast crowd in waiting and the organ
pealing, he suddenly stopped, turned round, lifted his eyes from
the ground, and said, "I have been studying your lawn all the way
down here; what you need is to sow Kentucky blue-grass." Then he
entered the chapel, and shortly was in the midst of a sermon
evidently suggested by the occasion, his whole manuscript being a
few pencilings on a sheet or two of note-paper, all the rest
being extemporized in his best vein, both as to matter and
manner.

Chapin, too, was brilliant and gifted, but very different in
every respect from Beecher. His way was to read from manuscript,
and then, from time to time, to rise out of it and soar above it,
speaking always forcibly and often eloquently. His gift of
presenting figures of speech so that they became vivid realities
to his audience was beyond that of any other preacher I ever
heard. Giving once a temperance address, and answering the
argument as to the loss of property involved in the confiscation
of intoxicants, he suddenly pictured a balance let down from the
hand of the Almighty, in one scale all the lucre lost, in the
other all the crimes, the wrecks, the miseries, the sorrows, the
griefs, the widows' groans and orphans' tears,--until we
absolutely seemed to have the whole vast, terrific mass swaying
in mid-air before us.

On another occasion, preaching from the text, "Now we see through
a glass darkly, but then face to face," he presented the picture
of a man in his last illness, seeing dimly, through a
half-transparent medium, the faint, dim outline of the Divinity
whom he was so rapidly nearing; and then, suddenly, death,--the
shattering of the glass,--and the man, on the instant, standing
before his Maker and seeing him "face to face." It all seems poor
when put upon paper; but, as he gave it, nothing could be more
vivid. We seemed to hear the sudden crash of the translucent
sheet, and to look full into the face of the Almighty looming up
before us.

Chapin was a Universalist, and his most interesting parishioner
was Horace Greeley, whose humanitarian ideas naturally inclined
him to a very mild creed. As young men, strangers to the
congregation, were usually shown to seats just in front of the
pulpit, I could easily see Mr. Greeley in his pew on a side
aisle, just behind the front row. He generally stalked in rather
early, the pockets of his long white coat filled with newspapers,
and, immediately on taking his seat, went to sleep. As soon as
service began he awoke, looked first to see how many vacant
places were in the pew, and then, without a word, put out his
long arm into the aisle and with one or two vigorous scoops
pulled in a sufficient number of strangers standing there to fill
all the vacancies; then--he slept again. Indeed, he slept through
most of the written parts of Dr. Chapin's sermons; but whenever
there came anything eloquent or especially thoughtful, Greeley's
eyes were wide open and fixed upon the preacher.

Greeley's humanitarianism was not always proof against the
irritations of life. In his not infrequent outbursts of wrath he
was very likely to consign people who vexed him to a region
which, according to his creed, had no existence.

A story told of him in those days seemed to show that his creed
did not entirely satisfy him; for one day, when he was trying, in
spite of numberless interruptions, to write a "Tribune" leader,
he became aware that some one was standing behind his chair.
Turning around suddenly, he saw a missionary well known in the
city slums,--the Rev. Mr. Pease,--and asked in his highest,
shrillest, most complaining falsetto, "Well, what do YOU want?"
Mr. Pease, a kindly, gentle, apologetic man, said deprecatingly,
"Well, Mr. Greeley, I have come for a little help. We are still
trying to save souls in the Five Points." "Oh," said Mr. Greeley,
"go along! go along! In my opinion, there ain't half so many men
damned as there ought to be."

But though Chapin's influence did not restrain Greeley at all
times, it undoubtedly did much for him, and it did much for us of
the younger generation; for it not only broadened our views, but
did something to better our hearts and raise our aims.

In this mention of the forces which acted upon my religious
feelings I ought to include one of a somewhat different sort.
There was one clergyman whose orthodoxy, though not of an extreme
type, was undoubted, and who exercised a good and powerful
influence upon me. This was the Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon, pastor of
the First Congregational church in New Haven. He was a man of
great intellectual power, a lover of right and hater of wrong, a
born fighter on the side of every good cause, at times pungent,
witty, sarcastic, but always deeply in earnest. There was a
general feeling among his friends that, had he not gone into the
church, he would have been eminent in political life; and that is
my belief, for he was by far the most powerful debater of his
time in the councils of his church, and his way of looking at
great questions showed the characteristics of a really
broad-minded statesman. His sermons on special occasions, as at
Thanksgiving and on public anniversaries, were noted for their
directness and power in dealing with the greater moral questions
before the people. On the other hand, there was a saying then
current, "Dull as Dr. Bacon when he's nothing but the Gospel to
preach"; but this, like so many other smart sayings, was more
epigrammatic than true: even when I heard him preach religious
doctrines in which I did not at all believe, he seemed to me to
show his full power.

Toward the end of my college course I was subjected to the
influence of two very powerful men, outside of the university,
who presented entirely new trains of thought to me. The first of
these was Dr. Alonzo Potter, Bishop of Pennsylvania, who had been
the leading professor at Union College, Schenectady, before his
elevation to the bishopric, and who, both as professor and as
bishop, had exercised a very wide influence. He was physically,
intellectually, and morally of a very large pattern. There was
something very grand and impressive about him. He had happened to
come to Syracuse during one of my vacations; on a Saturday
evening he gave a lecture upon the tendencies to loose
supernaturalism as shown in what were known as "spiritualistic"
phenomena; and on the following day he preached a simple, plain,
straightforward sermon on Christian morals. Both these utterances
impressed me and strengthened my conviction that every thinking
young man and woman ought to maintain relations with some good
form of religious organization just as long as possible.

Toward the end of my Yale course came an influence of a very
different sort. It was at the consecration of a Roman Catholic
church at Saratoga. The mass was sung by an Italian prelate,
Bedini, who as governor and archbishop at Bologna had, a few
years before, made himself detested throughout the length and
breadth of Italy by the execution of the priest patriot Ugo
Bassi; and he was now, as papal nuncio to Brazil, environed by
all the pomp possible. The mass did not greatly impress me, but
the sermon, by Archbishop Hughes of New York, I shall always
remember. His subject was the doctrine of transubstantiation,
and, standing upon the altar steps, he developed an argument most
striking and persuasive. He spoke entirely without notes, in a
straightforward way, and at times with eloquence, though never
with any show of rhetoric: voice and bearing were perfect; and
how any one accepting his premises could avoid his conclusions I
could not see then and cannot see now. I was proof against his
argument, for the simple reason that I felt the story of the
temptation of Jesus by Satan, which he took for his text, to be
simply a legend such as appears in various religions; still, the
whole was wonderfully presented; and, on my return to the hotel,
my father was greatly encouraged as to my religious development
when I gave to him a synopsis of the whole sermon from end to
end.

Next day there resulted a curious episode. Notices were posted
throughout Saratoga that Father Gavazzi, the Italian patriot and
heretic, famous for his oratory, would hold a meeting in the
grove back of Congress Hall Hotel, at three in the afternoon, and
would answer the archbishop's argument. When the hour arrived an
immense crowd was assembled, and among them many Catholics, some
of whom I knew well,--one of them a young priest to whom I had
become strongly attached at school. Soon appeared the orator. He
was of most striking presence--tall, handsome, with piercing
black eyes and black hair, and clad in a long semi-monastic
cloak. His first line of argument was of little effect, though
given with impassioned gestures and a most sympathetic voice; but
soon he paused and spoke gently and simply as follows: "When I
was a priest in Italy I daily took part in the mass. On festivals
I often saw the fasting priest fill the chalice as full as he
dared with strong wine; I saw him pronounce the sacred words and
make the sacred sign over it; and I saw, as everybody standing
round him clearly saw, before the end of the service, that it
flushed his face, thickened his voice, and enlivened his manner.
My fellow-Christians" (and here his voice rang out like a
trumpet), "who is the infidel, who is the blasphemer,--I who say
that no change took place in the wine before the priest drank it,
and that no miracle was performed, or the man who says that his
fellow-man can be made drunk on the blood of the blessed Son of
God?"

The effect was startling, even on Protestants: but on the Roman
Catholics present it was most thrilling; and I remember that an
old Irishwoman, seated on the steps of the platform as these
words were uttered, clapped her hands to her ears and ran from
the place screaming. I must confess that my sympathies were with
her rather than with the iconoclast, despite his gifts and
graces.



CHAPTER LX

IN THE EUROPEAN ATMOSPHERE--1853-1856

Leaving Yale in 1853, I passed nearly three years in Europe; and
observation of the effects resulting from the various orthodoxies
in England, France, Germany, Russia, and Italy developed my
opinions in various ways. I was deeply susceptible to religious
architecture, music, and, indeed, to the nobler forms of
ceremonial. I doubt whether any man ever entered Westminster
Abbey and the various cathedrals of Great Britain--and I have
visited every one of them of any note--with a more reverent
feeling than that which animated me; but some features of the
Anglican service as practised at that time repelled me; above
all, I disliked the intoning of the prayers, as I then heard it
for the first time. A manly, straightforward petition made by a
man standing or kneeling before his Maker, in a natural, earnest
voice, has always greatly impressed me; but the sort of whining,
drawling, falsetto in which the Anglican prayers were then
usually intoned simply drove out all religious thoughts from my
mind. I had a feeling that the Almighty must turn with contempt
from a man who presumed thus to address him. Some prayers in the
church service had from a very early period taken a deep place in
my heart: the prayer of St. Chrysostom in the morning service,
the first prayer in the ante-communion service, the prayer "for
the whole state of Christ's church militant," and some of the
collects had become, as it were, part of me; so much the more
disappointed and disgusted was I, then, to hear prayer made in
what seemed to me a sickly, unmanly whine.

Although the feelings thus aroused by religious observances in
England and other parts of Europe were frequently unedifying,
there was one happy exception to the rule. Both in the Church of
England and in the Roman Catholic churches of the Continent I
always greatly enjoyed the antiphonal chanting of the Psalter. To
me this has always been--the imprecatory psalms excepted--by far
the noblest feature in Christian worship as worship; for, coming
down as it does from the Jewish Church through the whole history
of the Christian Church, and being practised by all the great
bodies of Jews and Christians, it had, and still has, to me a
great significance, both religious and historic. In the
cathedrals of the continent of Europe--and I have visited every
one of note except those of Spain--I cared little for what
Browning's bishop calls "the blessed mutter of the mass," but the
chanting of the Psalter always attracted me. Many were the hours
during which I sat at vespers in abbeys and cathedrals, listening
to the Latin psalms until they became almost as familiar to me as
the English Psalter. On the other hand, I was at times greatly
repelled by perfunctory performances of the service, both
Protestant and Catholic. The "Te Deum" which I once heard recited
by an Anglican clergyman in the chapel at the castle of Homburg
dwells in my memory as one of the worst things of its kind I ever
heard, and especially there remains a vivid remembrance of the
invocation, which ran as follows:

"Ha-a-ow-ly, Ha-a-a-ow-ly, Ha-a-ow-ly: La-a-rd Gawd of Sabbith!"

But this was not the only thing of the kind, for I have heard
utterances nearly, if not quite, as bad in various English
cathedrals,--as bad, indeed, as the famous reading, "He that hath
yeahs to yeah, let him yeah."

As to more important religious influences, I had, during my first
visit to Oxford in 1853, a chance to understand something of the
two currents of thought then showing themselves in the English
Church. On a Sunday morning I went to Christ Church Cathedral to
hear the regius professor of Hebrew, Dr. Jacobson, whom, years
afterward, I saw enthroned as bishop in the cathedral at Chester.
It is a church beautiful in itself, and consecrated not only by
the relics of mediaeval saints, but by the devotions of many
generations of scholars, statesmen, and poets; and in front of
the pulpit were a body of young men, the most promising in Great
Britain; yet a more dull, mechanical discourse could not be
imagined. The preacher maundered on like a Tartar praying-mill;
every hearer clearly regarding his discourse as an Arab regards a
sand-storm.

In the afternoon I went to St. Mary's, and heard the regular
university sermon, before a similar audience, by Fraser, a fellow
of Oriel College. It was not oratorical, but straightforward,
earnest, and in a line of thought which enlisted my sympathies.
The young preacher especially warned his audience that if the
Church of England was to remain the Church of England, she must
put forth greater efforts than any she had made for many years;
and he went on to point out some of the lines on which these
exertions should be made,--lines which, I am happy to say, have
since been taken by great numbers of excellent men of the
Anglican communion.

During the evening, in the dining-room of the Mitre Inn, I
happened to be seated at table with an old country clergyman who
had just entered his son at Oxford and was evidently a rural
parson of the good old high-and-dry sort; but as I happened to
speak of the sermons of the day, he burst out in a voice gruff
with theological contempt and hot toddy: "Did you hear that young
upstart this afternoon? Did you ever hear such nonsense? Why
couldn't he mind his own business, as Dr. Jacobson did?"

Nor did sermons from Anglican bishops which I heard at that
period greatly move me. The primate of that day, Dr. Sumner,
impressed me by his wig, but not otherwise. He was, I think, the
last archbishop of Canterbury who used this means of enhancing
his dignity. Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, was far better; but,
after all, though his preaching showed decided ability, it was
not of the sort to impress one deeply, from either the religious
or the intellectual point of view.

Then, and at various times since, I have obtained more from
simpler forms of worship and less pretentious expositions of the
Gospel.

As to religious influence in France, there was little. I lived in
the family of a French professor, a devout Catholic, but Gallican
in his ideas,--so much so that he often said that if he could
wake up some morning and hear that the Pope had been dispossessed
of his temporal power, it would be the happiest day of his life,
since he was persuaded that nothing had so hampered the
church--and, indeed, debased it--as the limits imposed upon the
papacy by its sovereignty over the Roman states.

A happy impression was made upon me by the simple, philanthropic
character of the Archbishop of Paris at that period--Sibour.
Visiting a technical school which he had established for artisans
in the Faubourg St. Antoine, I derived thence a great respect for
him as a man who was really something more than a "solemnly
constituted impostor"; but, like the archbishops of Paris who
preceded and followed him, he met a violent death, and I have
more than once visited and reflected over the simple tablet which
marks the spot in the Church of St. Etienne du Mont where a
wretched, unfrocked priest assassinated this gentle, kindly,
affectionate prelate, who, judging from his appearance and life,
never cherished an unkind feeling toward any human being.

The touching monuments at Notre Dame to his predecessor, Affre,
shot on the barricades in 1848 when imploring a cessation of
bloodshed, and to his successor Darboy, shot by the Communards in
the act of blessing his murderers, also became, at a later
period, places of pilgrimage for me, and did much to keep alive
my faith that, despite all efforts to erect barriers of hatred
between Christians, there is, already, "one fold and one
shepherd."

As to my life on the Continent in general, German Protestantism
seemed to me simple and dignified; but its main influence upon me
was exercised through its music, the "Gloria in Excelsis" of the
morning service at the Berlin Cathedral being the most beautiful
music by a choir I had ever heard,--far superior, indeed, to the
finest choirs of the Sistine or Pauline chapel at Rome; and a
still deeper impression was made upon me by the congregational
singing. Often, after the first notes given by the organ, I have
heard a vast congregation, without book of any kind, joining in
the choral, King Frederick William IV and his court standing and
singing earnestly with the rest. It was a vast uprolling storm of
sound. Standing in the midst of it, one understands the Lutheran
Reformation.

The most impressive Roman Catholic ceremonies which I saw in
Europe were in Germany, and they were impressive because simple
and reverential; those most so being at Wurzburg and Fulda,
where, in the great churches, large bodies of the peasantry
joined simply and naturally in the singing at the mass and at
vespers.

In Russia I had the opportunity to study a religion of a very
different sort--the Russo-Greek Church. While this church no
doubt contains many devoted Christian men and women, it is, on
the whole, a fossilized system; the vast body of the people being
brought up to rely mainly on fetishes of various sorts. The
services were, many of them, magnificent, and the music most
beautiful; but it was discouraging to reflect that the condition
of the Russian peasantry, ignorant, besotted, and debased, was
the outcome of so many centuries of complete control by this
great branch of the Christian Church. It had for ages possessed
the fullest power for developing the intellect, the morals, and
the religion of the people, and here was the result. Experience
of Russian life is hardly calculated to increase, in any thinking
man, confidence in its divine origin or guidance. One bears in
mind at such times the words of the blessed Founder of
Christianity himself, "By their fruits ye shall know them."

But the most unfavorable impression was made upon me in Italy. It
was the palmy period of reactionary despotism. Hapsburgs in the
north, Neapolitan Bourbons in the south, petty tyrants scattered
through the country, all practically doing their worst; and, in
their midst, Pius IX, maintained in the temporal power by French
bayonets. It was the time when the little Jewish child Mortara
was taken from his parents, in spite of their agonizing appeals
to all Europe; when the Madiai family were imprisoned for reading
the Bible with their friends in their own house; when monks
swarmed everywhere, gross and dirty; when, at the centers of
power, the Jesuits had it all their own way,--as they generally
do when the final exasperating impulse is needed to bring on a
revolution. All old abuses of the church were at their highest
flavor. So far as ceremonial was concerned, nothing could be more
gorgeous than the services at St. Peter's as conducted by Pope
Pius IX. For such duties no one could be better fitted; for he
was handsome, kindly, and dignified, with a beautiful, ringing
voice.

During Holy Week of 1856 I was present at various services in
which he took the main part, in the Sistine Chapel and elsewhere;
but most striking of all were his celebration of pontifical high
mass beneath the dome of St. Peter's on Easter morning, and his
appearance on the balcony in front of the cathedral afterward.
The effect of the first ceremony was somewhat injured by the
easy-going manners of some of the attendant cardinals. It was
difficult to imagine that they believed really in the tremendous
doctrine involved in the mass when one saw them taking snuff in
the midst of the most solemn prayers, and going through the whole
in the most perfunctory fashion. At the close of the service, the
Pope, being borne on his throne by Roman nobles, surrounded by
cardinals and princes, and wearing the triple crown, gave his
blessing to the city and to the world. There must have been over
ten thousand of us in the piazza to receive it, and no one could
have performed his part more perfectly. Arising from his throne,
and stretching forth his hands with a striking gesture, he
chanted a benediction heard by every one present, even to the
remotest corners of the square. Many years afterward, Lord Odo
Russell, British ambassador at Berlin, on my mentioning the
splendor of this ceremony to him, said to me, "Yes, you are
right; but it was on one of those occasions that I discovered
that the Pope was mortal." On my asking him how it was, he said,
"I had occasion, as the British diplomatic representative, to
call on Pope Pius IX on Easter Monday, and, after finishing my
business with him, told him that I had been present at the
benediction in front of St. Peter's on the day before, and had
been much impressed by the beauty of his voice; and I added,
'Your Holiness must have been trained as a singer.' At this the
Pope was evidently greatly pleased, and answered, 'You are right,
I WAS trained as a singer; BUT YOU OUGHT TO HAVE HEARD ME TWO OR
THREE YEARS AGO.'"

But while these great services at St. Peter's in those halcyon
days were perfect in their kind, the same could not be said of
many others. The worst that I ever saw--one which especially
dwells in my memory--was at Pisa. I had previously visited the
place and knew it well, so that when, one Sunday morning, a
Canadian clergyman at the hotel wished to go to the cathedral, I
offered to guide him. He was evidently a man of deep sincerity,
and, as was soon revealed by his conversation, of high-church and
even ritualistic tendencies; but, to my great surprise, he
remarked that he had never attended service in a Roman Catholic
church. Arriving at the cathedral too late for the high
celebration, we walked down the nave until we came to a side
altar where a priest was going through a low mass, with a small
congregation of delayed worshipers, and we took our place back of
these. The priest raced through the service at the highest
possible speed. His motions were like those of an automaton: he
kept turning quickly to and fro as if on a pivot; clasping his
hands before his breast as if by machinery; bowing his head as if
it moved by a spring in his neck; mumbling and rattling like wind
in a chimney; the choir-boy who served the mass with him jingling
his bell as irreverently as if he were conducting a
green-grocer's cart. My Anglican companion immediately began to
be unhappy, and was soon deeply distressed. He groaned again and
again. He whispered, "Good heavens, is it like this? Is this the
way they do it? This is fearful!" As we came from the church he
was very sorrowful, and I administered to him such comfort as I
could, but nothing could remedy this most painful disenchantment.

And here I may say that I have never been able to understand how
any Anglican churchman can feel any insufficiency in the Lord's
Supper as administered in his own branch of the church. I have
never taken part in it, but more than once I have lingered to see
it, and even in its simplest form it has always greatly impressed
me. It is a service which all can understand; its words have come
down through the ages; its ceremonial is calm, comprehensible,
touching; and the whole idea of communion in memory of the last
scene in the Saviour's life, which brings the worshiper into
loving relation not only with him, but with all the church,
militant and triumphant, is, to my mind, infinitely nobler and
more religious than all paraphernalia, genuflexions, and
man-millinery. How any Protestant, however "high" in his
tendencies, can feel otherwise is incomprehensible to me.

At that first of my many visits to Rome, there had come one
experience which had greatly softened any of my inherited
Protestant prejudices. Our party had been lumbering along all day
on the road from Civita Vecchia, when suddenly there dashed by us
a fine traveling-coach drawn by four horses ridden by postilions.
Hardly had it passed when there came a scream, and our carriage
stopped. We at first took it for granted that it was an attack by
bandits, but, on getting out and approaching the other coach,
found that one of the postilions, a beautiful Italian boy of
sixteen, in jaunty costume, had been thrown from his horse, had
been run over by the wheels of the coach, and now lay at the
roadside gasping his last. We stood about him, trying to ease his
pain, when a young priest came running from a neighboring church.
He showed no deference to the gorgeously dressed personages who
had descended from the coach; he was regardless of all
conventionalities, oblivious of all surroundings, his one thought
being evidently of his duty to the poor sufferer stretched out
before him. He knelt, tenderly kissed the boy, administered
extreme unction, and repeated softly and earnestly the prayers
for the dying, to which fervent responses came from the peasants
kneeling about him. The whole scene did much to tone down the
feelings which had been aroused the previous day by the filth and
beggary at the papal port where we had landed, and to prepare me
for a more charitable judgment of what I was to see in the papal
city.

But an early experience in Rome showed a less beautiful
manifestation of Christian zeal. We were a band of students, six
in number, who had just closed a year of study at the University
of Berlin; and the youngest, whom I will call Jack Smith, was a
bright young fellow, son of a wealthy New England manufacturer.
The evening after arriving in Rome, Jack, calling on an American
aunt, was introduced to a priest who happened to be making her a
visit. It was instantly evident that the priest, Father Cataldi,
knew what Jack's worldly prospects were; for from the first he
was excessively polite to the youth, and when the latter remarked
that during his stay in Rome he would like to take Italian
lessons, the priest volunteered to send him a teacher. Next day,
at the appointed hour, the teacher appeared, and in the person of
the priest himself. Thenceforward he stuck to the young American
like a brother, kept him away from the rest of us as much as
possible, and served not only as his teacher, but as his
cicerone.

Among various dignitaries to whom he presented the young American
was his Eminence Cardinal Tosti; and when the cardinal extended
his hand to be kissed, Jack grasped and cordially shook it. The
two clerical gentlemen were evidently disconcerted; but the
priest said to the cardinal, in an undertone, "e un principe
Americano," whereupon the cardinal seemed relieved and shook
hands heartily.

One day, when the priest was not with our companion, we all
visited one of the basilicas, where some great function was going
on, and, though we found a crowd at the doors, obtained a sight
of the high altar,--and there, in magnificent attire, in the
midst of the great prelates, was a person who bore a most
striking resemblance to Jack's clerical guide. We were all struck
by this curious coincidence, but concluded that in the distance
and through the clouds of incense we had simply seen a chance
resemblance, and in the multitude of matters we soon forgot it. A
month afterward, as we were leaving Rome, Jack asked his new
friend for his bill, whereupon the priest drew himself up with a
superb gesture and, presenting his card, said: "You evidently do
not know who I am." The card bore the inscription, "Monsignor
Cataldi, Master of the Papal Ceremonies." The young American was
quite confounded, but listened submissively while this dignitary
expressed the hope that they might yet meet within the pale of
that church which alone could give a claim to salvation.

The condition of Rome at that period was not such as to induce
much respect for priestly government. Anything more dirty,
slipshod, and wretched could hardly be imagined. No railways had
yet been allowed; the Vatican monsignori feeling by instinct the
truth stated by Buckle, that railways promote the coming in of
new ideas. Nor did the moral condition of the people seem to be
any better.

Any one who visits Rome to-day, with the army of monks swept out
of the place, with streets well cleaned, with the excavations
scientifically conducted, with a government which, whatever its
faults, is at any rate patriotic, finds it difficult to imagine
the vileness of the city under the old regime.

But, bad as was Rome, Naples was worse. The wretched Bourbon then
on the throne, "King Bomba," was the worst of his kind. Our
minister of that period, Mr. Robert Dale Owen, gave me some
accounts of the condition of things. He told me, as a matter of
fact, that any young man showing earnest purpose of any sort was
immediately suspected and discouraged, while worthless young
debauchees were regarded as harmless, and therefore favored.

The most cherished counselor of the King was Apuzzo, Archbishop
of Sorrento. In addition to what I have already said of
Leopardi's political catechism, which the archbishop forced upon
the people, I may note that this work took great pains to show
that no education was needed save just enough to enable each man
to accomplish his duties within the little sphere in which he was
born, and that for the great body of the people education was a
curse rather than a blessing. The result of this policy was
evident: the number of persons unable to read or write, which was
from forty to fifty per cent. in Piedmont, was from sixty to
sixty-five per cent. in Rome, from eighty to eighty-five per
cent. in the Papal States, and above eighty-five per cent. in
Naples and Sicily.[38]


[38] See maps in Vol. II, of "L'Italis Economica nel 1873" (Roma,
Tipografia Barbera, 1873). This work was the result of official
surveys and most careful studies made by leading economists and
statisticians. For a copy of it I am indebted to Mr. H. N. Gay,
Fellow of Harvard University.


I also had the advantage of being present at the great religious
function of Naples--the liquefaction of the blood of St.
Januarius, patron of the city. It was in the gorgeous chapel of
the saint which forms part of the Cathedral of Naples, and the
place was filled with devout worshipers of every class, from the
officials in court dress, representing the Bourbon king, down to
the lowest lazzaroni. The reliquary of silver gilt, shaped like a
large human head, and supposed to contain the skull of the saint,
was first placed upon the altar; next, two vials, containing a
dark substance said to be his blood, were also placed upon the
altar, near the head. As the priests said prayers, they turned
the vials from time to time; and, the liquefaction being somewhat
delayed, the great crowd of people burst out into more and more
impassioned expostulations and petitions to the saint. Just in
front of the altar were the lazzaroni who claimed to be
descendants of the saint's family, and these were especially
importunate: at such times they beg, they scold, they even
threaten; they have been known to abuse the saint roundly, and to
tell him that, if he does not care to show his favor to the city
by liquefying his blood, St. Cosmo and St. Damian are just as
good saints as he, and will, no doubt, be very glad to have the
city devote itself to them. At last, as we were beginning to be
impatient, the priest, turning the vials suddenly, announced that
the saint had performed the miracle, and instantly priests,
people, choir, and organ burst forth into a great "Te Deum";
bells rang and cannon roared; a procession was formed, and the
shrine containing the saint's relics was carried through the
streets, the people prostrating themselves on both sides of the
way and showering rose-leaves upon the shrine and upon the path
before it. The contents of these precious vials are an
interesting relic indeed, for they represent to us vividly that
period when men who were willing to go to the stake for their
religious opinions thought it not wrong to "save souls" by pious
mendacity and consecrated fraud. To the scientific eye this
miracle is very simple: the vials contain, no doubt, one of those
waxy mixtures fusing at low temperature, which, while kept in its
place within the cold stone walls of the church, remains solid,
but which, upon being brought out into the hot, crowded chapel
and fondled by the warm hands of the priests, gradually softens
and becomes liquid. It was curious to note, at the time above
mentioned, that even the high functionaries representing the King
looked at the miracle with awe: they evidently found "joy in
believing," and one of them assured me that the only thing which
COULD cause it was the direct exercise of miraculous power.

So, too, I had here an opportunity to study one of the
fundamental ideas of the prevalent theology--namely, the doctrine
of "intercession," which has played such a part not only in
Catholic but in Protestant countries,--the idea that, just as in
an earthly court back-stairs influence is necessary to secure
favor, so it must be in the heavenly courts. I was much edified
by the way in which this doctrine was presented in certain great
pictures representing the intervention of the Almighty to save
Naples from the plague. One of them, as I remember it,
represented, on an enormous canvas, the whole transaction as
follows: In the immediate foreground the people of Naples were
represented on their knees before their magistrates, begging them
to rescue the city from the pestilence; farther back the
magistrates were represented as on their knees before the monks,
begging for their prayers; the monks were on their knees before
St. Januarius, begging him to intervene; St. Januarius was then
represented as on his knees before the Blessed Virgin; the
Blessed Virgin was then pictured as beseeching her divine Son;
and he at last was represented as presenting the petition to a
triangle in the heavens behind which appeared the lineaments of a
venerable face.

One can understand, after seeing pictures of this kind, what
Erasmus was thinking of, five hundred years ago, when he wrote
his colloquy of "The Shipwreck," the most exquisite satire on
mediaeval doctrine ever made. After a most comical account of the
petitions and promises made by the shipwrecked to various saints,
Adolphus says: "To which of the saints did you pray?" Antony
answers, "To not one of them all, I assure you. I don't like your
way of bargaining with the saints: 'Do this and I 'll do that.
Here is so much for so much. Save me and I will give you a taper
or go on a pilgrimage.' Just think of it! I should certainly have
prayed to St. Peter, if to any saint; for he stands at the door
of heaven, and so would be likeliest to hear. But before he could
go to the Almighty and tell him my condition, I might be fifty
fathoms under water." Adolphus: "What did you do then?" Antony:
"I went straight to God himself, and said my prayer to him; the
saints neither hear so readily nor give so willingly."

In the city itself were filth, blasphemy, and obscenity
unspeakable. No stranger could take his seat at a cafe without
having proposals openly made to him which would have disgraced
Pompeii. Cheatery and lying prevailed on all sides. Outside the
city was brigandage,--so much so that various parties going to
Paestum took pains to combine their forces and to bear arms.

This, then, was the outcome of fifteen hundred years of Christian
civilization in a land which had been entirely in the hands of
the church authorities ever since the downfall of the Roman
Empire; a country in which education, intellectual, moral, and
religious, had been from the first in the hands of a body,
claiming infallibility in its teaching of faith and morals, which
had molded rulers and people at its own will during all these
centuries. This was the result! It seemed to me then, as it seems
to me now, a reductio ad absurdum of the claims of any church to
superintend the education of a people; and if it be insisted that
there is anything exceptional in Italy, one may point for
examples of the same results to Spain, the Spanish republics,
Poland, and sundry other countries.

Before going to Italy, I had taken pains to read as much as
possible of the history of the country, and, among other works,
had waded through the ten octavo volumes of Sismondi's "History
of the Italian Republics," as well as Gibbon's "Decline and Fall
of the Roman Empire"; and this history had served to show me what
any body of ecclesiastics, not responsible to sound lay opinion,
may become. In looking over the past history and present
condition of Italy, there constantly rang in my ears that great
warning by Christ himself, "By their fruits ye shall know them."



CHAPTER LXI

IN LATER YEARS--1856-1905

On my return to America I remained for a short time as a resident
graduate at New Haven, and there gained a friend who influenced
me most happily. This was Professor George Park Fisher, at that
time in charge of the university pulpit, an admirable scholar and
historian. His religious nature, rooted in New England orthodoxy,
had come to a broad and noble bloom and fruitage. Witty and
humorous, while deeply thoughtful, his discussions were of great
value to me, and our long walks together remain among the most
pleasing recollections of my life. He had a genius for
conversation; in fact, he was one of the two or three best
conversationists I have ever known, and his influence on my
thinking, both as regards religious and secular questions, was
thoroughly good. While we did not by any means fully agree, I
came to see more clearly than ever what a really enlightened
Christianity can do for a man.

I had returned to America in the hope of influencing opinion from
a professor's chair, and my dear old friend Professor--afterward
President--Porter urged me to remain in New Haven, assuring me
that the professorship of history for which I had been preparing
myself abroad would be open to me there. A few years later a
professorship at Yale was offered me, and in a way for which I
shall always be grateful; but it was not the professorship of
history: from that I was debarred by my religious views, and
therefore it was that, having been elected to a professorship in
that department at the State University of Michigan, I
immediately and gladly entered upon its duties.

Installed in this new position at Ann Arbor, I not only threw
myself very heartily into my work, but became interested in
church and other good work as it went on about me. From the force
of old associations, and because my family had also been brought
up in the Episcopal Church, I attended its services regularly;
and, while it represented much that I could not accept, there
were noble men in it who became my very dear friends, with whom I
was glad to work.

It has always seemed to me rather an amusing episode in my life
during this period that, in spite of grave doubts regarding my
orthodoxy, my friends elected me vestryman of St. Andrew's Church
at Ann Arbor, and gave me full power to select and call a rector
for the parish at my next vacation excursion in the East. This in
due time I proceeded to do. Attending the convention of the
Episcopal Church in the diocese of Western New York, I consulted
with various clerical friends, visited one or two places in order
to hear sundry clergymen who were recommended to me, and at last
called to our rectorate a man who proved to be not only a
blessing to that parish, but to the State at large. In the annals
of American charitable work his name is writ large, though
probably there never lived a man more averse to publicity. He has
since been made a bishop, and in that capacity has shown the same
self-sacrifice and devotion to works of mercy which marked his
career as pastor.

As to my religious ideas in general, they were at that time
influenced in various ways. I read much ecclesiastical history as
given by leading authorities, Protestant and Catholic, and in
various original treatises by thinkers eminent in the history of
the church. A marked influence was exercised upon me by reading
sundry lives of the mediaeval saints: even the quaintest of these
showed me how, in spite of childlike credulity, most noble lives
had been led, well worthy to be pondered over in these later
centuries.

The general effect of this reading was to arouse in me admiration
for the men who have taken leading parts in developing the great
religions of the world, and especially Christianity, whether
Catholic or Protestant; but it also caused me to distrust, more
and more, every sort of theological dogmatism. More and more
clear it became that ecclesiastical dogmas are but steps in the
evolution of various religions, and that, in view of the fact
that the main underlying ideas are common to all, a beneficent
evolution is to continue.

This latter idea was strengthened by my careful reading of Sale's
translation of the Koran, which showed me that even Mohammedanism
is not wholly the tissue of folly and imposture which in those
days it was generally represented to be.

Influence was also exerted upon me by various other books, and
especially by Fra Paolo Sarpi's "History of the Council of
Trent," probably the most racy and pungent piece of
ecclesiastical history ever written; and though I also read as
antidotes the history of the Council by Pallavicini, and copious
extracts from Bossuet, Archbishop Spalding, and Balmez, Father
Paul taught me, as an Italian historian phrases it, "how the Holy
Spirit conducts church councils." At a later period Dean Stanley
made a similar revelation in his account of the Council of
Nicaea.

The works of Buckle, Lecky, and Draper, which were then
appearing, laid open much to me. All these authors showed me how
temporary, in the sum of things, is any popular theology; and,
finally, the dawn of the Darwinian hypothesis came to reveal a
whole new orb of thought absolutely fatal to the claims of
various churches, sects, and sacred books to contain the only or
the final word of God to man. The old dogma of "the fall of man"
had soon fully disappeared, and in its place there rose more and
more into view the idea of the rise of man.

But while my view was thus broadened, no hostility to religion
found lodgment in my mind: of all the books which I read at that
time, Stanley's life of Arnold exercised the greatest influence
upon me. It showed that a man might cast aside much which
churches regard as essential, and might strive for breadth and
comprehension in Christianity, while yet remaining in healthful
relations with the church. I also read with profit and pleasure
the Rev. Thomas Beecher's book, "Our Seven Churches," which
showed that each Christian sect in America has a certain work to
do, and does it well; also, the sermons of Robertson, Phillips
Brooks, and Theodore Munger, which revealed a beauty in
Christianity before unknown to me.

Another influence was of a very different sort. From time to time
I went on hunting excursions with the pastor of the Methodist
Episcopal church at Ann Arbor; and though he made no parade of
religion, there was in him a genial, manly piety which bettered
me.

But I cannot say that this good influence was always exercised
upon me by his coreligionists. There was especially one, who rose
to be a "presiding elder," very narrow, very shrewd, and very
bitter against the State University, yet constantly placing
himself in comical dilemmas. On one occasion, when I asked him
regarding his relations with clergymen of other religious bodies,
he spoke of the Roman Catholics and said that he had made a
determined effort to convert the Bishop of Detroit. On my asking
for particulars, he answered that, calling upon the bishop, he
had spoken very solemnly to him and told him that he was
endangering his own salvation as well as that of his flock; that
at first the bishop was evidently inclined to be harsh; but that,
on finding that he--the Methodist brother--disliked the
Presbyterian Dr. Duffield, who had recently attacked Catholic
doctrine, as much as the bishop did, the relations between them
grew better, so that they talked together very amicably.

At this point in our conversation a puzzled expression overspread
the elder's face and he said, "The most singular experience I
ever had was with a French Catholic priest in Monroe. Being in
that town and having a day or two of vacation, I felt it my duty
to go and remonstrate with him. I found him very polite,
especially after I had told him that his bishop had received me
and discussed religious questions with me. Presently, wishing to
make an impression on the priest, I fixed my eyes on him very
earnestly and said as solemnly as I could, 'Do you know that you
are leading your flock straight down to hell?' To this the priest
made a very singular answer,--very singular, indeed. He said,
'Did you talk like that to the bishop?' I answered, 'Yes, I did.'
'Didn't he kick you out of his house?' 'No, he didn't.' 'Then,'
said the priest, '_I_ won't.'" And the good elder, during the
whole of this story, evidently thought that the point of it was,
somehow, against the PRIEST!

As a professor at the University of Michigan lecturing upon
modern history, I, of course, showed my feelings in opposition to
slavery, which was then completely dominant in the nation, and,
to all appearance, intrenched in our institutions forever. From
time to time I also said some things which made the more
sensitive orthodox brethren uneasy; though, as I look back upon
them now, they seem to me very mild indeed. In these days they
could be said, and would be said, by great numbers of devoted
members of all Christian churches. These expressions of mine
favored toleration and dwelt upon the absurdity of distinctions
between Christians on account of beliefs which individuals or
communities have happened to inherit. Nothing like an attack upon
Christianity itself, or upon anything vital to it, did I ever
make; indeed, my inclinations were not in that direction: my
greatest desire was to set men and women at thinking, for I felt
sure that if they would really think, in the light of human
history, they would more and more dwell on what is permanent in
Christianity and less and less on what is transient; more and
more on its universal truths, less and less upon the creeds,
forms, and observances in which these gems are set; more and more
on what draws men together, less and less on that which keeps
them apart.

I became convinced that what the world needed was more religion
rather than less; more devotion to humanity and less preaching of
dogmas. Whenever I spoke of religion, it was not to say a word
against any existing form; but I especially referred, as my
ideals of religious conduct, to the declaration of Micah,
beginning with the words, "What doth the Lord require of thee?";
to the Sermon on the Mount; to the definition of "pure religion
and undefiled" given by St. James; and to some of the wonderful
utterances of St. Paul. But even this alarmed two or three very
good men; they were much exercised over what they called my
"indifferentism"; and when I was chosen, somewhat later, to the
presidency of Cornell University, I found that they had thought
it their duty to write letters urging various trustees to prevent
the election of so dangerous a heretic.

Scattered through the Michigan university town were a number of
people who had broken from the old faith and were groping about
to find a new one, but, as a rule, with such insufficient
knowledge of the real basis of belief or skepticism that the
religion they found seemed less valuable to them than the one
they had left. Thiers, Voltairian though he was, has well said,
"The only altars which are not ridiculous are the old altars."

Some of the best of these people, having lost very dear children,
had taken refuge in what was called "spiritualism"; and I was
invited to witness some of the "manifestations from the
spirit-land," and assured that they would leave no doubt in my
mind as to their tremendous reality. Among those who thus invited
me were a county judge of high standing, and his wife, one of the
most lovely and accomplished of women. They had lost their only
daughter, a beautiful creature just budding into womanhood, and
they thought that "spiritualism" had given her back to them. As
they told me wonderful things regarding the revelations made by
sundry eminent mediums, I accepted their invitation to witness
some of these, and went to the seances with a perfectly open and
impartial mind. I saw nothing antecedently improbable in
phenomena of that sort; indeed, it seemed to me that it might be
a blessed thing if there were really something in it all; but
examination showed me in this, as in all other cases where I have
investigated so-called "spirit revelations," nothing save the
worthlessness of human testimony to the miraculous. These
miracles were the cheapest and poorest of jugglery, and the
mediums were, without exception, of a type below contempt. There
was, indeed, a revelation to me, not of a spirit-world beyond the
grave, but of a spirit-world about me, peopled with the spirits
of good and loving men and women who find "joy in believing" what
they wish to believe. Compared with this new worship, I felt that
the old was infinitely more honest, substantial, and healthful;
and never since have I desired to promote revolutionary changes
in religion. Such changes, to be good, must be evolutionary,
gradual, and in obedience to slowly increasing knowledge: such a
change is now evidently going on, irresistibly, and quite as
rapidly as is desirable.

There were other singular experiences. One day a student said to
me that an old man living not far from the university grounds was
very ill and wished to see me. I called at once, and found him
stretched out on his bed and greatly emaciated with consumption.
He was a Hicksite Quaker. As I entered the room he said, "Friend,
I hear good things of thee: thou art telling the truth; let me
bear my testimony before thee. I believe in God and in a future
life, but in little else which the churches teach. I am dying.
Within two or three days, at furthest, I shall be in my coffin.
Yet I look on the future with no anxiety; I am in the hands of my
loving Father, and have no more fear of passing through the gate
of death into the future life than of passing through yonder door
into the next room." After kindly talk I left him, and next day
learned that he had quietly passed away.

After about five years of duty in the University of Michigan, I
was brought into the main charge of the newly established Cornell
University; and in this new position, while no real change took
place in my fundamental religious ideas, there were conflicting
influences, sometimes unfortunate, but in the main happy. In
other chapters of these reminiscences I have shown to what unjust
attacks the new institution and all connected with it were
subjected by the agents and votaries of various denominational
colleges. At times this embittered me, but the ultimate result
always was that it stirred me to new efforts. Whatever ill
feelings arose from these onslaughts were more than made up after
the establishment of the Sage Chapel pulpit. I have shown
elsewhere how, at my instance, provision was made by a
public-spirited man for calling the most distinguished preachers
of all denominations, and how, the selection of these having been
left to me, I chose them from the most eminent men in the various
Christian bodies. My intercourse with these, as well as my
hearing their discourses, broadened and deepened my religious
feeling, and I regard this as among the especially happy things
of my life.

Another feature of the university was not so helpful to me. I
have spoken in another chapter regarding the establishment of
Barnes Hall at Cornell as a center of work for the Christian
Association and other religious organizations of the university,
and of my pleasure in aiding the work there done and in noting
its good results. At various times I attended the services of the
Young Men's Christian Association; and while they often touched
me, I cannot say that they always edified me. I am especially
fond of the psalms attributed to David, which are, for me, the
highest of poetry; and I am also very fond of the great and noble
hymns of the church, Catholic and Protestant, and especially
susceptible to the best church music, from Bach and Handel to
Mason and Neale: but the sort of revival hymns which are
generally sung in Christian Associations, and which date mainly
from the Moody and Sankey period, do not appeal to my best
feelings in any respect. They seem to me very thin and gushy.
This feeling of mine is not essentially unorthodox, for I once
heard it expressed by an eminent orthodox clergyman in terms much
stronger than any which I have ever used. Said he, "When I was
young, congregations used to sing such psalms as this:

 "The Lord descended from above,
      And bowed the heavens most high;
  And underneath His feet He cast
      The darkness of the sky.

 "On cherubim and seraphim
      Right royally He rode,
  And on the wings of mighty winds
      Came flying all abroad.

 "His seat is on the mighty floods,
      Their fury to restrain;
  And He, our everlasting Lord,
      Forevermore shall reign.

"But now," he continued, "the congregation gets together and a
lot of boys and girls sing:

 "Lawd, how oft I long to know--
     Oft it gives me anxious thought--
 Do I love Thee, Lawd, or no;
      Am I Thine, or am I nawt!

"There," said he, "is the difference between a religion which
believes in a righteous sovereign Ruler of the universe, and a
maudlin sentiment incapable of any real, continued, determined
effort."

I must confess that this view of my orthodox friend strikes me as
just. It seems to me that one of the first needs of large
branches of the Christian Church is to weed out a great mass of
sickly, sentimental worship of no one knows what, and to replace
it with psalms and hymns which show a firm reliance upon the Lord
God Almighty.

It is with this view that I promoted in the university chapel the
simple antiphonal reading of the psalms by the whole
congregation. Best of all would it be to chant the Psalter; the
clergyman, with a portion of the choir, leading on one side, and
the other section of the choir and the congregation at large
chanting the responses. But this is, as regards most Protestant
churches, a counsel of perfection.

Staying in London after the close of my university presidency, I
was subject to another influence which has wrought with power
upon some strong men. It was my wont to attend service in some
one of the churches interesting from a historical point of view
or holding out the prospect of a good sermon; but, probably, a
combination which I occasionally made would not be approved by my
more orthodox fellow-churchmen. For at times I found pleasure and
profit in attending the service before sermon on Sunday afternoon
at St. Paul's, and then going to the neighboring Positivist
Conventicle in Fetter Lane to hear Frederic Harrison and others.
Harrison's discourses were admirable, and one upon Roman
civilization was most suggestive of fruitful thought. My tendency
has always been strongly toward hero-worship, and this feature of
the Positivist creed and practice especially attracted me; while
the superb and ennobling music of St. Paul's kept me in a
religious atmosphere during any discourse which succeeded it.

My favorite reading at this period was the "Bible for Learners,"
a book most thoughtfully edited by three of the foremost scholars
of modern Europe--Hooykaas, Oort, and Kuenen. Simple as the book
is, it made a deep impression upon me, rehabilitating the Bible
in my mind, showing it to be a collection of literature and moral
truths unspeakably precious to all Christian nations and to every
Christian man. At a later period, readings in the works of Renan,
Pfleiderer, Cheyne, Harnack, Sayce, and others strengthened me in
my liberal tendencies, without diminishing in the slightest my
reverence for all that is noble in Christianity, past or present.

Another experience, while it did not perhaps set me in any new
trains of thought, strengthened me in some of my earlier views.
This was the revelation to me of Mohammedanism during my journey
in the East. While Mohammedan fanaticism seems to me one of the
great misfortunes of the world, Mohammedan worship, as I first
saw it, made a deep impression on me. Our train was slowly moving
into Cairo, and stopped for a time just outside the city; the
Pyramids were visible in the distance, but my thoughts were
turned from them by a picture in the foreground. Under a
spreading palm-tree, a tall Egyptian suddenly arose to his full
height, took off an outer covering from his shoulders, laid it
upon the ground, and then solemnly prostrated himself and went
through his prayers, addressing them in the direction of Mecca.
He was utterly oblivious of the crowd about him, and the
simplicity, directness, and reverence in his whole movement
appealed to me strongly. At various other times, on the desert,
in the bazaars, in the mosques, and on the Nile boats, I
witnessed similar scenes, and my broad-churchmanship was thereby
made broader. Nor was this general effect diminished by my visit
to the howling and whirling dervishes. The manifestations of
their zeal ranged themselves clearly in the same category with
those evident in American camp-meetings, and I now understood
better than ever what the Rev. Dr. Bacon of New Haven meant when,
after returning from the East, he alluded to certain Christian
"revivalists" as "howling dervishes."

I must say, too, that while I loved and admired many Christian
missionaries whom I saw in the East, and rejoiced in the work of
their schools, the utter narrowness of some of them was
discouraging. Anything more cold, forbidding, and certain of
extinction than the worship of the "United Presbyterians" at the
mission church at Cairo I have never seen, save possibly that of
sundry Calvinists at Paris. Nor have I ever heard anything more
defiant of sane thought and right reason than the utterances of
some of these excellent men.

But the general effect of all these experiences, as I now think,
was to aid in a healthful evolution of my religious ideas.

It may now be asked what is the summing up of my relation to
religion, as looked upon in the last years of a long life, during
which I have had many suggestions to thought upon it, many
opportunities to hear eminent religionists of almost every creed
discuss it, and many chances to observe its workings in the
multitude of systems prevalent in various countries.

As a beginning, I would answer that, having for many years
supplemented my earlier observations and studies by special
researches into the relations between science and religion, my
conviction has been strengthened that religion in its true
sense--namely, the bringing of humanity into normal relations
with that Power, not ourselves, in the universe, which makes for
righteousness--is now, as it always has been, a need absolute,
pressing, and increasing.

As to the character of such normal relations, I feel that they
involve a sense of need for worship: for praise and prayer,
public and private. If fine-spun theories are presented as to the
necessary superfluity of praise to a perfect Being, and the
necessary inutility of prayer in a world governed by laws, my
answer is that law is as likely to obtain in the spiritual as in
the natural world: that while it may not be in accordance with
physical laws to pray for the annihilation of a cloud and the
cessation of a rain-storm, it may well be in accordance with
spiritual laws that communication take place between the Infinite
and finite minds; that helpful inspiration may be thus
obtained,--greater power, clearer vision, higher aims.

As to the question between worship by man as an individual being,
face to face with the Divine Power, and worship by human beings
in common, as brethren moved to express common ideas, needs,
hopes, efforts, aspirations, I attribute vast value to both.

As to the first. Each individual of us has perhaps an even more
inadequate conception of "the God and father of us all" than a
plant has of a man; and yet the universal consciousness of our
race obliges a human being under normal conditions to feel the
need of betterment, of help, of thankfulness. It would seem best
for every man to cultivate the thoughts, relations, and practices
which he finds most accordant with such feelings and most
satisfying to such needs.

As to the second. The universal normal consciousness of humanity
seems to demand some form of worship in common with one's
fellow-men. All forms adopted by men under normal conditions,
whether in cathedrals, temples, mosques, or conventicles, clearly
have uses and beauties of their own.

If it be said that all forms of belief or ceremonial obscure that
worship, "in spirit and in truth," which aids high aspiration, my
answer is that the incorporation, in beliefs and forms of
worship, of what man needs for his spiritual sustenance seems to
me analogous to the incorporation in his daily material food of
what he needs for his physical sustenance. As a rule, the truths
necessary for the sustenance and development of his higher nature
would seem better assimilated when incorporated in forms of
belief and worship, public or private, even though these beliefs
and forms have imperfections or inadequacies. We do not support
material life by consuming pure carbon, or nitrogen, or hydrogen:
we take these in such admixtures as our experience shows to be
best for us. We do not live by breathing pure oxygen: we take it
diluted with other gases, and mainly with one which, if taken by
itself, is deadly.

This is but a poor and rough analogy, but it seems a legitimate
illustration of a fact which we must take account of in the whole
history of the human race, past, present, and future.

It will, in my opinion, be a sad day for this or for any people
when there shall have come in them an atrophy of the religious
nature; when they shall have suppressed the need of
communication, no matter how vague, with a supreme power in the
universe; when the ties which bind men of similar modes of
thought in the various religious organizations shall be
dissolved; when men, instead of meeting their fellow-men in
assemblages for public worship which give them a sense of
brotherhood, shall lounge at home or in clubs; when men and
women, instead of bringing themselves at stated periods into an
atmosphere of prayer, praise, and aspiration, to hear the
discussion of higher spiritual themes, to be stirred by appeals
to their nobler nature in behalf of faith, hope, and charity, and
to be moved by a closer realization of the fatherhood of God and
the brotherhood of man, shall stay at home and give their
thoughts to the Sunday papers or to the conduct of their business
or to the languid search for some refuge from boredom.

But thus recognizing the normal need of religious ideas,
feelings, and observances, I see in the history of these an
evolution which has slowly brought our race out of lower forms of
religion into higher, and which still continues. Nowhere is this
more clearly mirrored than in our own sacred books; nowhere more
distinctly seen than in what is going on about us; and one finds
in this evolution, just as in the development of our race in
other fields, survivals of outworn beliefs and observances which
remain as mile-stones to mark human progress.

Belief in a God who is physically, intellectually, and morally
but an enlarged "average man"--unjust, whimsical, revengeful,
cruel, and so far from omnipotent that he has to make all sorts
of interferences to rectify faults in his original scheme--is
more and more fading away among the races controlling the world.

More and more the thinking and controlling races are developing
the power of right reason; and more and more they are leaving to
inferior and disappearing races the methods of theological
dogmatism.

More and more, in all parts of the civilized world, is developing
liberty of thought; and more and more is left behind the tyranny
of formulas.

More and more is developing, in the leading nations, the
conception of the world's sacred books as a literature in which,
as in a mass of earthy material, the gems and gold of its
religious thought are embedded; and more and more is left behind
the belief in the literal, prosaic conformity to fact of all
utterances in this literature.

To one who closely studies the history of humanity, evolution in
religion is a certainty. Eddies there are,--counter-currents of
passion, fanaticism, greed, hate, pride, folly, the unreason of
mobs, the strife of parties, the dreams of mystics, the logic of
dogmatists, and the lust for power of ecclesiastics,--but the
great main tide is unmistakable.

What should be the attitude of thinking men, in view of all this?
History, I think, teaches us that, just so far as is possible,
the rule of our conduct should be to assist Evolution rather than
Revolution. Religious revolution is at times inevitable, and at
such times the rule of conduct should be to unite our efforts to
the forces working for a new and better era; but religious
revolutions are generally futile and always dangerous. As a rule,
they have failed. Even when successful and beneficial, they have
brought new evils. The Lutheran Church, resulting from the great
religious revolution of the sixteenth century, became immediately
after the death of Luther, and remained during generations, more
inexcusably cruel and intolerant than Catholicism had ever been;
the revolution which enthroned Calvinism in large parts of the
British Empire and elsewhere brought new forms of unreason,
oppression, and unhappiness; the revolution in France substituted
for the crudities and absurdities of the old religion a "purified
worship of the Supreme Being" under which came human sacrifices
by thousands, followed by a reaction to an unreason more extreme
than anything previously known. Goldwin Smith was right when he
said, "Let us never glorify revolution."

Christianity, though far short of what it ought to be and will
be, is to-day purer and better, in all its branches, than it has
ever before been; and the same may be said of Judaism. Any man
born into either of these forms of religion should, it seems to
me, before breaking away from it, try as long as possible to
promote its better evolution; aiding to increase breadth of view,
toleration, indifference to unessentials, cooperation with good
men and true of every faith. Melanchthon, St. Francis Xavier,
Grotius, Thomasius, George Fox, Fenelon, the Wesleys, Moses
Mendelssohn, Schleiermacher, Dr. Arnold, Channing, Phillips
Brooks, and their like may well be our exemplars, despite all
their limitations and imperfections.

I grant that there are circumstances which may oblige a
self-respecting man to withdraw from religious organizations and
assemblages. There may be reactionary zeal of rabbis, priests,
deacons, destructive to all healthful advance of thought; there
may be a degeneration of worship into fetishism; there may be
control by young Levites whose minds are only adequate to decide
the colors of altar-cloths and the cut of man-millinery; there
may be control by men of middle age who preach a gospel of
"hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness"; there may be tyranny
by old men who will allow no statements of belief save those
which they learned as children.

From such evils, there are, in America at least, many places of
refuge; and, in case these fail, there are the treasures of
religious thought accumulated from the days of Marcus Aurelius,
St. Augustine, and Thomas a Kempis to such among us as Brooks,
Gibbons, Munger, Henry Simmons, Rabbis Weinstock and Jacobs, and
very many others. It may be allowed to a hard-worked man who has
passed beyond the allotted threescore years and ten to say that
he has found in general religious biography, Jewish, Catholic,
and Protestant, and in the writings of men nobly inspired in all
these fields, a help without which his life would have been poor
indeed.

True, there will be at times need of strong resistance, and
especially of resistance to all efforts by any clerical
combination, whether of rabbis, priests, or ministers, no matter
how excellent, to hamper scientific thought, to control public
education, or to erect barriers and arouse hates between men.
Both Religion and Science have suffered fearfully from unlimited
clerical sway; but of the two, Religion has suffered most.

When one considers the outcome of national education entirely
under the control of the church during over fifteen hundred
years,--in France at the outbreak of the revolution of 1789, in
Italy at the outbreak of the revolution of 1848, in the
Spanish-American republics down to a very recent period, and in
Spain, Poland, and elsewhere at this very hour,--one sees how
delusive is the hope that a return to the ideas and methods of
the "ages of faith" is likely to cure the evils that still linger
among us.

The best way of aiding in a healthful evolution would seem to
consist in firmly but decisively resisting all ecclesiastical
efforts to control or thwart the legitimate work of science and
education; in letting the light of modern research and thought
into the religious atmosphere; and in cultivating, each for
himself, obedience to "the first and great commandment, and the
second which is like unto it," as given by the Blessed Founder of
Christianity.



LIST OF PUBLICATIONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS ESPECIALLY HISTORICAL

BY ANDREW D. WHITE

The Greater Distinctions in Statesmanship. Yale Literary Prize
Essay, in the "Yale Literary Magazine," 1852.

The Diplomatic History of Modern Times. De Forest Prize Oration,
in the "Yale Literary Magazine," 1853.

Qualifications for American Citizenship. Clarke Senior Prize
Essay, in the "Yale Literary Magazine," 1853.

Editorial and other articles in the "Yale Literary Magazine,"
1852-1853.

Glimpses of Universal History. The "New Englander," Vol. XV, p.
398.

Care of the Poor in New Haven. A Report to the Authorities of
Syracuse, New York. The "Tribune," New York, 1857.

Cathedral Builders and Mediaeval Sculptors. An address before the
faculty and students of Yale College, 1857. With various
additions and revisions between that period and 1885. (Published
only by delivery before various university and general
audiences.)

Jefferson and Slavery. The "Atlantic Monthly," Vol. IX, p. 29.

The Statesmanship of Richelieu. The "Atlantic Monthly," Vol. IX,
p. 611.

The Development and Overthrow of Serfdom in Russia. The "Atlantic
Monthly," Vol. X, p. 538.

Outlines of Courses of Lectures on History, Mediaeval and Modern,
given at the University of Michigan. Various editions, Ann Arbor
and Detroit, 1858-1863; another edition, Ithaca, 1872.

A Word from the North West; being historical and political
statements in response to strictures in the "American Diary" of
Dr. W. H. Russell. London, 1862. The same, Syracuse, New York,
1863.

A Review of the Governor's Message. Speech in the State Senate,
1864, embracing sundry historical details. Albany, 1864.

The Cornell University. Speech in the State Senate. Albany, 1865.

Plea for a Health Department in the City of New York. A speech in
the New York State Senate. Albany, 1866.

The Most Bitter Foe of Nations, and the Way to Its Permanent
Overthrow. An address before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Yale
College, 1866. New Haven, 1866.

Report on the Organization of a University, with historical
details based upon the history of advanced education, presented
to the trustees of Cornell University, October, 1866. Albany,
1867.

Address at the Inauguration of the first President of Cornell
University, with historical details regarding university
education. Ithaca, 1869.

The Historical and part of the Political Details in the Report of
the Commission to Santo Domingo in 1871. Washington, 1871.

Report to the Trustees of Cornell University on the Establishment
of the Sage College for Women, with historical details regarding
the education of women in the United States and elsewhere. First
edition, Ithaca, 1872.

Address to the Students of Cornell University and to the Citizens
of Ithaca Oil the Recent Attack upon Mr. Cornell in the
legislature. Albany and New York, 1873.

The Greater States of Continental Europe (including Italy, six
lectures; Spain, three lectures; Austria, four lectures; The
Netherlands, sis lectures; Prussia, five lectures; Russia, five
lectures; Poland, two lectures; The Turkish Power, three
lectures; France, from the Establishment of French Unity in the
Fifteenth Century to Richelieu, four lectures). Syllabus prepared
for the graduating classes of Cornell University. Ithaca, the
University Press, 1874.

An Address before the State Agricultural Society, at the Capitol
in Albany, on "Scientific and Industrial Education in the United
States," giving historical details regarding the development of
education in pure and applied science. New York, 1874. Reprint of
the same in the "Popular Science Monthly," June, 1874.

The Relations of the National and State Governments to Advanced
Education. Paper read before the National Educational Association
at Detroit, August 5, 1874. Published in "Old and New," Boston,
1874.

An Abridged Bibliography of the French Revolution, published as
an appendix to O 'Connor Morris's "History of the French
Revolution." New York, 1875.

The Battle-fields of Science. An address delivered at the Cooper
Institute, New York, and published in the "New York Tribune,"
1875.

Paper Money Inflation in France: How it Came; What it Brought;
and How it Ended. First edition, New York, 1876; abridged edition
published by the New York Society for Political Education, 1882;
revised edition with additions, New York, 1896.

The Warfare of Science. First American edition, New York, 1876;
first English edition, with Prefatory Note by Professor John
Tyndall, London, 1876; Swedish translation, with Preface by H. M.
Melin, Lund, 1877.

Syllabus of Lectures on the General Development of Penal Law;
Development and Disuse of Torture in Procedure and in Penalty;
Progress of International Law; Origin and Decline of Slavery;
etc. Given before the senior class of Cornell University, 1878.
(Published only by delivery.)

The Provision for Higher Instruction in Subjects bearing directly
upon Public Affairs, being one of the Reports of the United
States Commissioners to the Paris Universal Exposition of 1878.
Washington, 1878. New edition of the same work, with additions
and extensions by Professor Herbert B. Adams, Baltimore, 1887.

James A. Garfield. Memorial Address. Ithaca, 1881.

Do the Spoils belong to the Victor?--embracing historical facts
regarding the origin and progress of the "Spoils System." The
"North American Review," February, 1882.

Prefatory Note to the American translation of Muller, "Political
History of Recent Times." New York, 1882.

The New Germany, being a paper read before the American
Geographical Society at New York. New York, 1882. German
translation, Frankfort-on-the-Main, 1882.

Two addresses at Cleveland, Ohio, October, 1882. First, On a Plan
for the Western Reserve University. Second, On the Education of
the Freedmen. Ithaca, 1882.

Outlines of Lectures on History. Addressed to the students of
Cornell University. Part I, "The first Century of Modern
History," Ithaca, the University Press, 1883. Part II, "Germany
(from the Reformation to the new German Empire)," same place and
date. Part III, "France" (including: 1. "France before the
Revolution"; 2. "The French Revolution"; 3. "Modern France,
including the Third Republic"), same place and date.

Speech at the Unveiling of the Portrait of the Honorable Justin
S. Morrill. Ithaca, June, 1883.

The Message of the Nineteenth Century to the Twentieth. An
address delivered before the class of 1853, in the chapel of Yale
College, June 26, 1883. New Haven, 1883; second and third
editions, New York, 1884.

Address at the First Annual Banquet of the Cornell Alumni of
Western New York, at Buffalo, April, 1884.

What Profession shall I Choose, and how shall I Fit Myself for
It? Ithaca, 1884.

Address at the Funeral of Edward Lasker. New York, 1884.

Address delivered at the Unveiling of the Statue of Benjamin
Silliman at Yale College, June 24, 1884. New Haven, 1884; second
edition, Ithaca, 1884.

Some Practical Influences of German Thought upon the United
States. An address delivered at the Centennial Celebration of the
German Society of New York, October 4, 1884. Ithaca, 1884.

Letter defending the Cornell University from Sundry Sectarian
Attacks. Elmira, December 17, 1884.

Sundry Important Questions in Higher Education: Elective Studies,
University Degrees, University Fellowships and Scholarships; with
historical details and illustrations. A paper read at the
Conference of the Presidents of the Colleges of the State of New
York, at the Twenty-second University Convocation, Albany, 1884.
Ithaca, 1885.

Studies in General History and the History of Civilization, being
a paper read before the American Historical Association at its
first public meeting, Saratoga, September 9, 1884. New York and
London, 1885.

Instruction in the Course of History and Political Science at
Cornell University. New York, 1885.

Yale College in 1853. "Yale Literary Magazine," February, 1886.

The Constitution and American Education, being a speech delivered
at the Centennial Banquet, in the Academy of Music, Philadelphia,
September 17, 1887. Ithaca, 1887.

A History of the Doctrine of Comets. A paper read before the
American Historical Association at its second annual meeting,
Saratoga, October, 1885. Published by the American Historical
Association. New York and London, 1887. (This forms one of the
"New Chapters in the Warfare of Science.")

New Chapters in the Warfare of Science: Meteorology. Reprinted
from the "Popular Science Monthly," July and August, 1887. New
York, 1887.

College Fraternities. An address given at the Metropolitan Opera
House, New York, with some historical details. The "Forum," May,
1887.

New Chapters in the Warfare of Science: Geology. Reprinted from
the "Popular Science Monthly," February and March, 1888. New
York, 1888.

The Next American University. The "Forum," June, 1888.

The French Revolution. Syllabus of lectures, various editions,
more or less extended and revised, for students at the University
of Michigan; Cornell University; University of Pennsylvania;
Johns Hopkins University; Columbian University; Tulane
University; and Stanford University. Various places, and dates
from 1859 to 1889.

The Need of Another University. The "Forum," January, 1889.

A University at Washington. The "Forum," February, 1889.

New Chapters in the Warfare of Science: Demoniacal Possession and
Insanity. Reprinted from the "Popular Science Monthly," February
and March, 1889.

New Chapters in the Warfare of Science: Diabolism and Hysteria.
"Popular Science Monthly," May and June, 1889.

The Political Catechism of Archbishop Apuzzo. A paper read
before, and published by, the American Historical Association,
Washington. December, 1889.

My Reminiscences of Ezra Cornell. An address delivered before the
Cornell University on Founder's Day, January 11, 1890. Ithaca,
1890.

Remarks on Indian Education. Proceedings of the Lake Mohonk
Conference, 1890.

Evolution and Revolution. A commencement address before the
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1890.

The Teaching of History in our Public Schools. Remarks before the
Fortnightly Club, Buffalo, 1890.

Democracy and Education. An address given before the State
Teachers' Association at Saratoga, 1891. Published by the
Department of Public Instruction, Albany, 1891.

The Problem of High Crime in the United States. Published only by
delivery--before Stanford University in 1892, and, with various
additions and revisions, before various other university and
general audiences down to 1897.

The Future of the American Colleges and Universities. Published
in "School and College Magazine," February, 1892.

A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom.
New York, 1896. French translation, Paris, 1899. Italian
translation, Turin, 1902.

An Address at the Celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the
Onondaga Orphan Asylum. Syracuse, 1896.

Erasmus, in "The Library of the World's Best Literature." New
York, 1896.

An Open letter to Sundry Democrats (Bryan Candidacy). New York,
1896.

Evolution vs. Revolution, in Politics. Biennial address before
the State Historical Society and the State University of
Wisconsin, February 9, 1897. Madison, Wisconsin, 1897.

Speech at a Farewell Banquet given by the German-Americans of New
York. New York, 1897.

Sundry addresses at Berlin and Leipsic. Berlin, 1897-1902.

A Statesman of Russia--Pobedonostzeff. The "Century Magazine,"
1898.

The President of the United States. Speech at Leipsic, Germany,
July 4, 1898. Berlin, 1898.

Address before the Peace Conference of The Hague at the Laying of
a Silver and Gold Wreath on the Tomb of Grotius at Delft, in
Behalf of the Government of the United States, July 4, 1899. The
Hague, 1899.

Walks and Talks with Tolstoy. "McClure's Magazine," April, 1901.

The Cardiff Giant. The "Century Magazine" for October, 1902.

Farewell Address at Berlin, November 11, 1902. The "Columbia"
magazine, Berlin, December, 1902; reprinted "Yale Alumni Weekly,"
January 14, 1903.

Speech at the Bodleian Tercentenary, Oxford. "Yale Alumni
Weekly," March 11, 1903.

A Patriotic Investment. An address at the fiftieth anniversary of
the Yale class of 1853, New Haven, 1903.

Reminiscences of My Diplomatic Life. Various articles in the
"Century Magazine," 1903-5.

The Warfare of Humanity with Unreason, including biographical
essays on Fra Paolo Sarpi, Hugo Grotius, Christian Thomasius, and
others. "Atlantic Monthly," 1903-5.

Speech at the Laying of the Corner-stone of Goldwin Smith Hall.
Ithaca, N. Y., October 13, 1904. Published by the Cornell
University, 1905.

The Situation and Prospect in Russia. "Collier's Weekly,"
February 11, 1905.

The Past, Present, and Future of Cornell University. An address
delivered before the New York City Association of Cornell Alumni,
February 25, 1905. Ithaca, 1905.

The American Diplomatic Service, with Hints for its Reform. An
address delivered before the Smithsonian Association, Washington,
D. C., March 9, 1905. Washington, 1905.

Autobiography of Andrew Dickson White. New York, 1905.





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