The Truth about Wilson.
[SPECIAL TO _PUNCH_.]
On Saturday, January 22nd, I arrived in Washington from Seattle. The
Seattle part is another story.
What I have to tell to-day, here, now, and once for all, is what I saw
of the President at close quarters outside and inside the White House
and what happened at the historic dinner-party, at which I was the only
representative of a belligerent country present.
By a fortunate coincidence Mr. Wilson arrived at the railway depot on
his return from a game of golf with his secretary, Mr. Tumulty, as I was
loitering at the bookstall. I had never seen either of them before, but
intuitively recognised them in a flash. Mr. Tumulty looked exactly as a
man with so momentous a name could only look. The President was garbed
in a neutral-tinted lounge-suit and wore a dark fawn overcoat and
dove-coloured spats.
How did the President look? Well, his face was obviously the face of a
changed man. Not that he is changed for the worse. He seemed in the pink
of condition, and his clean-cut profile and firm jaw radiated inflexible
determination at every pore. No signs of a moustache are yet visible on
his finely-chiselled upper lip.
I had no introduction, and no time was to be lost, so without a moment's
hesitation I strode up to the President and said, "Permit me, Sir, as
the accredited representative of a neutral nation, to offer you this
token of respect," and handed him a small Dutch cheese, a dainty to
which I had been informed he was especially partial. The President
smiled graciously, handed the offering to his secretary, and said, "I
thank you, Sir. Won't you join us at the White House at dinner
to-night?" I expressed my acceptance in suitable terms, bowed and passed
on.
The dinner took place in the famous octagonal dining-room of the White
House, which was profusely decorated with the flags of the Scandinavian
Kingdoms, Spain, Greece, China, Chile, Peru, Brazil and the Argentine.
The band of the Washington Post Office Rifles was ensconced behind a
trellis of olive branches and discoursed a choice selection of soothing
music. Flagons of grape-juice and various light and phosphorescent
beverages stood on the sideboard. It was a memorable scene and every
detail was indelibly impressed on my mind. The President greeted his
guests with the calm dignity proper to his high office. He does not
affect the high handshake of English smart society, but a firm yet
gentle clasp. In repose his features reminded me of Julius Caesar, but
when he smiles he recalls the more genial lineaments of the great
Pompey. The general impression created on my mind was one of refined
simplicity. As the President himself remarked, quoting Thucydides to one
of his Greek guests, [Greek: philukalonmen meht ehuteleias].
It is quite untrue that the conversation was confined to the English
tongue. On the contrary all the neutral languages, except Chinese, were
spoken, the President showing an equal facility in every one, and
honourably making a point of never uttering two consecutive sentences in
the same tongue. War topics were rigorously eschewed, and so far as I
could follow the conversation--I only speak five of the neutral
languages--the subjects ranged from golf to hygienic clothing, from
co-education to coon-can.
I do not propose here and now to state the circumstances in which, on
leaving the White House, I was kidnapped by some emissaries of Count
Bernstorff, and ultimately consigned to the Tombs in New York on a false
charge of manslaughter; how I narrowly escaped being electrocuted, and
was subsequently deported to Bermuda as an undesirable alien. What I saw
and endured in the Tombs is another story. What really matters is the
Bill of Fare of the President's dinner, which was printed in Esperanto
and ran as follows:--
Turtle Dove Soup.
Norwegian Salmon Cutlets.
Iceland Reindeer Steak.
Tipperusalein Artichokes and Spanish Onions.
Chaudfroid a la Woodrow.
Irene Pudding.
Dutch Cheese Straws.
Brazil Nuts.
After dinner Greek cigarettes were handed round with small cups of China
tea and, as an alternative, Peruvian _mate._
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