Fighting For Peace | Page 3

and fearful of the presages of the oncoming tempest which
lurked in the beautiful autumn and winter of 1913-14 in Europe.
Looking back at them now, I can see that the signs were ominous. But
anybody can be wise after the event, and the role of a reminiscent
prophet is too easy to be worth playing.
Certainly all was bright and tranquil when we rolled through the
pleasant land of France and the rich cities of Belgium, and came by
ship-thronged Rotterdam to The Hague in the first week of October,
1913. Holland was at her autumnal best. Wide pastures wonderfully
green were full of drowsy, contented cattle. The level brown fields and
gardens were smoothly ploughed and harrowed for next year's harvest,
and the vast tulip-beds were ready to receive the little gray bulbs which
would overflow April with a flood-tide of flowers. On the broad canals

innumerable barges and sloops and motor-boats were leisurely passing,
and on the little side-canals and ditches which drained the fields the
duckweed spread its pale-emerald carpet undisturbed. In the woods--the
tall woods of Holland--the elms and the lindens were putting on frosted
gold, and the massy beeches glowed with ruddy bronze in the sunlight.
The quaint towns and villages looked at themselves in the waters at
their feet and were content. Slowly the long arms of the windmills
turned in the suave and shimmering air. Everybody, in city and country,
seemed to be busy without haste. And overhead, the luminous cloud
mountains--the poor man's Alps--marched placidly with the wind from
horizon to horizon.
The Hague--that "largest village in Europe," that city of three hundred
thousand inhabitants set in the midst of a park, that seat of government
which does not dare to call itself the capital because Amsterdam is
jealous--was in especially good form and humor, looking forward to a
winter of unhurried gayety and feasting such as the Hollanders love.
The new Palace of Peace, given by Mr. Andrew Carnegie for the use of
the Permanent Court of Arbitration and its auxiliary bodies, had been
opened with much ceremony in September. Situated before the
entrance of that long, tree-embowered avenue which is called the Old
Scheveningen Road, the edifice has an imposing exterior although a
mixture of architects in the process of building has given it something
the look of a glorified railway station. But the interior is altogether
dignified and splendid, more palatial, in fact, than any of the royal
residences. It is lined with costly marbles, rare Eastern woods,
wonderful Japanese tapestries, and adorned with gifts from all the
nations, except the United States, which had promised to give a marble
statue representing "Peace through Justice," to be placed on the central
landing of the great Stairway of Honor, the most conspicuous position
in the whole building. The promise had been standing for some years,
but not the statue. One of my first minor tasks at The Hague was to see
to it that active steps were taken at Washington to fulfil this promise,
and to fill this empty place which waits for the American sculpture.
Meantime the rich collection of books on international law was being
arranged and classified in the library under the learned direction of M.

Alberic Rolin. The late roses were blooming abundantly in the broad
gardens of the palace. Thousands of visitors were coming every day to
see this new wonder of the world, the royal house of "Vrede door
Recht."
Queen Wilhelmina was still at her country palace, Het Loo, in
Gelderland. It was about the middle of October that I was invited there
to lunch and to have my first audience with Her Majesty, and to present
my letter of credence as American Minister.
The journey of three or four hours was made in company with the
Dutch Minister of Foreign Affairs, Jonkheer Loudon, who represented
the Netherlands at Washington for several years and is an intelligent
and warm friend of the United States, and the Japanese Minister, Mr.
Aimaro Sato, a very agreeable gentleman (and, by the way, an ardent
angler), who now represents Japan at Washington. He talked a little,
and with great good sense and feeling, of the desirability of a better
understanding and closer relations between the United States and Japan.
I liked what he said and the way he said it. But most of our
conversation on that pleasant journey, it must be confessed, was
personal and anecdotic--fish-stories not excluded.
The ceremony of presenting the letter of credence, which I had rather
dreaded, was in fact quite simple and easy. I handed to Her Majesty the
commendatory epistle of the President (beginning, as usual, "Great and
good friend") and made a short speech in English, according to the
regulations. The Queen, accepting the letter, made a brief friendly reply