He who believes in luck should study the career of Robert Lansing.
Mr. Lansing probably thinks that the goddess of chance played him a
scurvy trick, after having admitted him to the Olympian heights, to
break him as suddenly as she made him.
Robert Lansing's real misfortune was not knowing how to play his
luck. It is curious the fear men have of death. The former
Secretary of State's only hope of immortality was to commit
political suicide, and he lacked the courage or the vision to fall
upon his sword.
When Woodrow Wilson was elected President for the first time he
appointed Mr. Bryan Secretary of State. The opinion Mr. Wilson
entertained of Mr. Bryan we all know. Mr. Wilson was not given to
letting his thoughts run wild, but on one occasion, with pen in
hand, he permitted himself the luxury of saying what he thought and
expressed the pious hope that somebody would knock the distinguished
Nebraskan into a cocked hat and thus dispose of the perpetual
candidate who was the Old Man of the Sea to the Democratic Party.
Circumstances alter cases; Mr. Wilson as a private citizen could
say and think what he pleased; as President he was compelled to
make Mr. Bryan Secretary of State. As Mr. Bryan knew nothing of
history and less of European politics and had a superb disdain of
diplomacy--diplomacy according to the tenets of Bryanism being an
unholy and immoral game in which the foreign players were always
trying to outmaneuver the virtuous and innocent American--he was
provided with a political nurse, mentor, and guardian in the person
of John Bassett Moore, who had a long and brilliant career as an
international lawyer and diplomatist. Mr. Bryan busied himself with
finding soft jobs for deserving Democrats, preaching and
inculcating the virtues of grape juice to the diplomatic corps, and
concocting plans whereby the sword was to be beaten into a
typewriter and war become a lost art. Meanwhile Mr. Moore was doing
the serious work of the Department.
No two men were more unlike than Mr. Bryan and Mr. Moore; Mr. Bryan
a bundle of loosely tied emotions to whom a catchy phrase or an
unsound theory is more precious than a natural law or the wisdom of
the philosopher; Mr. Moore an intellect who has subordinated his
emotions, and to whom facts are as important as mathematics to an
engineer. It was an incompatible union; it could not last. Mr.
Moore became impatient of his chief's vagaries and, about a year
later, returned to the dignified quiet of Columbia University.
This was early in 1914. Now for the random way in which chance
weaves her skein. Mr. Moore went out of the Department and left the
office of Counselor vacant, an office, up to that time, so little
known that the public, if it gave the matter any thought, believed
its occupant was the legal adviser of the Department, while, as a
matter of fact, he is the Under Secretary, which is now the
official designation.
At this stage of his career Mr. Lansing was connected with the
Department as an adviser on international affairs and had
represented the United States in many international arbitrations.
He was known to a small and select circle of lawyers specializing
in international law, but to the public his name meant nothing. He
had always been a good Democrat, although he was married to the
daughter of the late John W. Foster, who wound up a long and
brilliant diplomatic life as Secretary of State in President
Harrison's Cabinet after Mr. Blaine's resignation.
Mr. Lansing had made Washington his home for many years, and when
the new Democratic Administration came into power he believed his
services to the party entitled him to recognition, and he sought
the appointment of Third Assistant Secretary of State. The Third
Assistant Secretary is the official Social Secretary of the
Government. When royalty or other distinguished persons come to
this country as the guests of the nation the Third Assistant
Secretary is the Master of Ceremonies. He has to see that all the
forms are properly complied with and nothing happens to mar the
visitors' enjoyment; he sends out invitations, in the name of the
State Department, to the funerals of Ambassadors or the
inauguration of the President. But for some reason Mr. Lansing's
praiseworthy ambition was defeated.
Mr. Moore had knowledge, learning, and experience, but he was
denied the gift of divination. Had he known that a few months later
a half crazed youth in an unheard of place was to be the
unconscious agent to set the whole world aflame, undoubtedly he
would have put up with Mr. Bryan's curious ideas and peculiar
methods and stuck to his desk at the State Department, and Mr.
Lansing would never have been heard of. But at the turning point in
Mr. Moore's career his luck deserted him and Mr. Lansing became the
beneficiary. Mr. Lansing, who would have been satisfied with the
appointment of Third Assistant Secretary of State, a minor place in
the hierarchy, was appointed by Mr. Wilson Counselor of the
Department of State.
The appointment created no excitement. In March, 1914, foreign
affairs had little interest for the American people. There was
Mexico, of course, and Japan; there were the usual routine
questions to form the customary work of the department; but the
skies were serene; murder, rape, and sudden death no one thought
of; Lloyd's, which will gamble on anything from the weather to an
ocean tragedy, would have written a policy at a ridiculously low
premium on the maintenance of the peace of Europe; any statesman
rash enough to have predicted war for the United States within
three years would have aroused the concern of his friends and the
professional solicitude of his physician. Apparently Mr. Lansing
had tumbled into an easy and dignified post which would not unduly
tax his physical or mental strength. He could congratulate himself
upon his good fortune.
A few months later the situation changed. The State Department
became not only the center about which the whole machinery of the
Government revolved but on it was focused the attention of the
country and the thoughts of Europe. The Counselor of the Department
was lifted out of his obscurity; despatches to the belligerents
signed "Lansing" were published in the newspapers, statements were
issued by him, he was interviewed; he received Ambassadors, and
when an Ambassador visited the State Department the nerve centers
of the whole world were affected. Again, a few months later, in
June, 1915, Mr. Bryan kindly accommodated Mr. Wilson by knocking
himself into a cocked hat, and Mr. Lansing was appointed Secretary
of State. Few men had risen so rapidly. He had no reason to
complain of his luck.
Mr. Wilson made some extraordinary appointments--a close observer
has said he could read motives but not men--and his appointment of
Mr. Lansing at a time of crisis would have been inexplicable were
it not logical as Mr. Wilson reasoned. Mr. Wilson did not invite as
his associates his intellectual equals or those who dared to oppose
him; it was necessary that the State Department should have a
titular head, but Mr. Wilson was resolved to be his own Secretary
of State and take into his own hands the control of foreign policy.
No great man, no man great enough to be Secretary of State when the
world was in upheaval, would have consented to that indignity; no
man jealous of his own self-respect could have remained Mr.
Wilson's Secretary of State for long. A Secretary of State or any
other member of the Cabinet must of course subordinate his judgment
to that of the President, for the President is the final court of
appeal. But Mr. Wilson went further than that; he heaped almost
unparalleled affront upon Mr. Lansing; he made the great office of
Secretary of State ridiculous, and he invested its incumbent with
no greater authority than that of a copyist.
Perhaps Mr. Wilson reads men better than his critics believed;
perhaps Mr. Wilson had fully taken the measure of Mr. Lansing and
knew how far he could go.
Nature never intended Mr. Lansing to be a leader of men, to fight
for a great cause, or to engage in physical or intellectual combat.
His life has been too soft for that, and he is naturally indolent.
He is fond of, and has more than the amateur's appreciation for,
music, painting, poetry, and the classics of literature. He has
dabbled in verse, he sketches and he has written, but without
brilliancy. Accident made him a lawyer, but he was really intended
to be an artist; he would have produced no masterpiece, for genius
is not in him, but he would have been happy in his work and perhaps
have given inspiration to men of greater talent. Without being a
fanatic or dogmatic, he is strongly religious; religion to him has
a meaning and is not merely a convention; he has a code which he
has always observed and ideals which he has preserved; he is
charitable in his judgments and has never allowed his prejudices to
influence his actions; he is, to use a word so often misapplied, a
gentleman, and his motto is Noblesse oblige. Typical of the
standard he sets for himself was the admirable restraint he showed
after his abrupt dismissal from the Cabinet. He neither sought
vindication through the newspapers, nor posed as a victim, nor
soothed his feelings by denunciations of the President; he did not
make a nuisance of himself by inflicting the recital of his
grievances upon his friends or hinting darkly at revelations. He
kept quiet and went about his affairs as a gentleman should.
Why, it may be asked, should a man with so many fine qualities have
cut such a sorry figure? The answer perhaps is that he suffers from
the defects of his qualities, fine as we must admit them to be; too
fine, perhaps, for a coarser world.
When a weak and somewhat easy-going man, immensely pleased with his
own exalted position, has to deal with a man of iron will, ruthless
in his methods, he is necessarily at a disadvantage. Considering
Mr. Lansing's temperamental defects and the effect of his training,
his failure is no mystery.
Until Mr. Lansing became Secretary of State he had never known
responsibility. Practically his entire life had been spent as a
subordinate, carrying out with zeal and intelligence the tasks
assigned to him, but always in obedience to a stronger mind.
Nothing more weakens character or intellect than for a man
habitually to turn to another for direction or inspiration; always
to play the part of an inferior to a mental superior. For years Mr.
Lansing had been connected with many international arbitrations
which, theoretically, was a magnificent training for a future
Secretary of State, and actually would have destroyed the creative
and administrative usefulness of a much stronger man than Robert
Lansing.
In the whole mummery of international relations there is nothing
more farcical than an international arbitration. It is always
preceded by great popular excitement. A ship is seized, a boundary
is run a few degrees north or south of the conventional line,
something else equally trivial fires the patriotic heart. The flag
has been insulted, the offending nation is a land grabber, national
honor must be vindicated. Secretaries of State write notes,
ambassadors are instructed, the press becomes rabid, speeches are
made; the public is advised to remain calm, but it is also assured
there will be no surrender. After a few weeks the public forgets
about the insult or the way in which it has been robbed; but the
responsible officials who have never allowed themselves to become
excited, continue the pleasing pastime of writing notes.
Months, sometimes years, drag on, then a new Secretary of State or
a Foreign Minister, to clean the slate, proposes that the childish
business be ended by an international arbitration. More weeks, more
often months, are spent in agreeing upon the terms of reference,
and finally the dispute goes before an "impartial arbitral
tribunal." Both sides appoint agents and secretaries, an imposing
array of counsel, technical experts; and as the counsel are always
well paid they have a conscientious obligation to earn their fees.
More months are required to prepare the case, which frequently runs
into many printed volumes; and the more volumes the better pleased
everybody is, as size denotes importance. The arbitrators, although
they are governed by principles of law, know what is expected of
them, and they rarely disappoint. Almost invariably their decision
is a compromise, so nicely shaded that while neither side can claim
victory neither side suffers the humiliation of defeat. As by that
time both nations have long forgotten the original cause of the
quarrel their people are quite content when they are told the
decision is in their favor. As junior counsel Mr. Lansing's name
appears in many international arbitrations, and it was precisely
the work for which he was fitted.
If Mr. Lansing had been a man of more robust fiber, he would have
returned his portfolio to Mr. Wilson as early as 1916, for the
President was writing notes to the belligerents and did not, even
as a perfunctory courtesy, consult his Secretary of State; he made
it only too patent he did not consider his advice worth asking. Mr.
Lansing was too fond of his official prominence to surrender it
easily, and that is another curious thing about the man. Somewhat
vain, holding himself in much higher estimation than the world did,
few men have so thoroughly enjoyed office as he. But he remained
the quiet and unassuming gentleman he had always been; and he
certainly could not have deluded himself into believing that there
was a still higher office for him to occupy.
Mr. Lansing could not screw up his courage to resign in 1916. The
following year the United States was at war and he naturally could
not desert his post; but in 1919 Mr. Lansing was given another
opportunity, and still he was obdurate. He has told us in his
public confession that he tried to persuade the President not to go
to Paris. Mr. Wilson, as usual, remained unpersuaded, and Mr.
Lansing humbly followed in his train.
Then, of course, Mr. Lansing could not resign, but in Paris he was
even more grossly humiliated; he was completely shut out from the
President's confidence; he wrote letters to Mr. Wilson which the
President did not deign to answer; so little did Mr. Lansing know
what was being done that he sought information from the Chinese
Delegates! It sounds incredible, it seems even more incredible that
a Secretary of State should put himself in such an undignified
position, and having done so should invite the world to share his
ignominy. But he has set it down in his book as if he believed it
was ample defense, instead of realizing that it is condemnation.
Curious contradictions! One might expect a sensitive man, a man who
has never courted publicity, who has none of the genius of the
self-advertiser, to crave forgetfulness for the Paris episode, to
shrink from publicly exposing himself and his humiliations, but Mr.
Lansing seemingly revels in his self-dissection. The President
slaps his face; in his pride he summons all the world to look upon
the marks left by the Executive palm. He feels the sting, and he
enters upon an elaborate defense to show it is the stigmata of
martyrdom. A treaty was framed of which he disapproved, yet he
could sign it without wrench of conscience. Unreconciled to
resignation in Paris, he returned to Washington as if nothing had
happened, again to resume his subservient relations to the
President.
Opportunity, we are told, knocks only once at a man's door, but
while opportunity thundered at Mr. Lansing's portal "his ear was
closed with the cotton of negligence."
Early in 1920 Mr. Wilson dismissed him, brutally, abruptly, with
the petulance of an invalid too tired to be fair; for a reason so
obviously disingenuous that Mr. Lansing had the sympathy of the
country. He should either have told the truth then and there or
forever have held his peace; and had he remained mute out of the
mystery would have grown a myth. The fictitious Lansing would have
become an historical character. But he must needs write a book. It
does not make pleasant reading. It does not make its author a hero.
It does, however, answer the question the curious asked at the time
of his appointment: "Why did the President make Mr. Lansing
Secretary of State?"