WE sailed on the Leviathan, formerly the Vaterland. When we boarded the ship, we found the dock was elaborately decorated for the arrival of the Secretary of the Navy; the handsome royal suite was reserved for him and his wife. Josephus Daniels, no longer wearing his customary white suit, now displayed an admiral’s cap, and was surrounded by admirals and captains who were under his orders. He was the Secretary of the Navy and to the chagrin of some of our prominent ironmasters, he had assumed the exacting supervision of naval armour plate in lieu of his effective distribution of newspaper boiler plate during the first Wilson campaign.

Other fellow passengers were seven physicians bound, like myself, for the international conference of Red Cross Societies at Cannes: William H. Welch, of Johns Hopkins, typifying to us all the wonderful accomplishments of the Rockefeller Institute; L. Emmett Holt, the medical foster-father of thousands of American babies; Hermann M. Biggs, who, in his official capacities, has lifted public hygiene into a recognized requirement of modern civilization; Colonel Russell, Chief of the Division of Infectious Diseases in the U. S. Surgeon-General’s office; Edward R. Baldwin, head of the well-known Saranac Lake Sanatorium for Tuberculosis; Fritz B. Talbot, of Boston, famous as a specialist in children’s diseases; and Samuel M. Hammill, head of the Pennsylvania Child-Welfare Board. With these was Mr. Chanler P. Anderson, ex-solicitor of the State Department.

We took our meals at the same table and used these often wasted hours to weave precious strands of friendship that can best be created amongst people animated by the same aims and sharing the obligations of service. At my suggestion, we decided to hold daily meetings to prepare for submission to the Conference a plan which would embody the combined thoughts of our entire party. Dr. Welch had intended to devote his time at sea to writing an article on his old associate, Dr. Osler, but rather regretfully postponed his task and accepted his usual position—that of chairman. Dr. Holt was elected secretary so that, with Dr. Biggs as vice-chairman, we transferred to our gatherings the precision and expert management of the Rockefeller Institute.

Dr. Welch’s first thought has always been of public service. Before our country entered the war, he went to the President and suggested making ready our medical practitioners and hospitals for service. Mr. Wilson appointed him to the Council of National Defense, and some day the public will be surprised to learn how much he did toward that phase of preparedness. On the Leviathan he brought out what was best in us and proved, at the age of sixty-eight, the fallacy of the popular interpretation of Dr. Osler’s statement about the end of human usefulness at forty-five.

All of the physicians were animated by this same high motive: not to commercialize their talents, but to devote much of them to research work for the benefit of mankind. As all of them were recognized authorities in their respective fields, they stated their experience and knowledge in so convincing a manner that it was like reading the last word written on the subject.

After a few days of strictly medical discussion, I ventured to read them my conception of the proper future of the Red Cross as published in the New York Times of March 15, 1919, arguing that this noble organization ought now to become militant and endeavour to reach with curative and preventive measures into the innermost recesses of both hemispheres, where diseases originate and dense ignorance prevails. We all agreed that we must remedy the intellectual deficiencies as well as the physical weaknesses of the backward peoples, and, therefore, prepared a memorandum, later presented to the Conference, recommending a broad international programme of this character.

We landed at Brest, and hurried to Paris and immediately reported to Mr. Davison. There I met Mr. Hoover’s secretary, who said that “The Chief”—a title given Hoover by all his admiring adherents—was anxious to see me. I found Hoover concerned as to whether our contemplated organization would conflict with his exclusive authority conferred by President Wilson to manage all the American relief activities everywhere. I promptly relieved his mind, assuring him that the League of the Red Cross Societies had no intention of distributing food or in any way interfering with the American Relief administration.

Our first Red Cross meeting was held next day in Mr. Davison’s office at the Regina and then we presented our programme, urging its adoption as necessary to retain the interest and coÖperation of the millions of adult and junior members of the American Red Cross. But, unfortunately, Mr. Davison relied largely on Colonel Strong, and his plans were adopted; they were conventional and confined to a limited field.

A few days later, Mr. Davison gave a dinner at the little old-fashioned house on the Quai de la Tourelle. The recruits from America were meeting the scarred veterans just returned from the front-line trenches. Here were the men that had fought dismay in Italy, typhus in Servia, who had worked wonders on the Bosphorus, and saved the babies of Roumania. We heard their modest reports through which their valour and their triumphs shone like so many pillars of fire. America had done these things: all non-combatant Americans had faithfully worked to develop the organization which made them possible; we newcomers from America, burning with the volunteer spirit and ready with a programme to continue that usefulness and extend it throughout all the world, were raised, as we listened, far above the material plane.

War-time regulations were still in force: all lights should have been extinguished at 9:30, and Frederic himself popped a worried head in at the door several times to tell Davison so. Therefore, when our host called on me for the closing speech, he said:

“I regret that you will have only five minutes for it, too. The curfew has rung three times already.”

In concluding my speech, I said:

“My friends, I have been entranced by the splendid spirit displayed this evening. I have shared with you the elation of the hour.

“You field workers have inspired us by recounting the blessings that have been showered upon you by the thousands of grateful recipients of your services, while we have freshened your drooping enthusiasm and reinforced your ardour by transmitting from your millions of members at home their hopes and prayers that you will ‘Carry On.’ The determination of all the guests to transform these hopes into definite actions seems to have changed this table into an altar at which to pledge ourselves to assume this new task of further brothering those who are still crying for help.”

Next day, on the train for Cannes, when Davison called Chanler Anderson and myself into conference, I again stated that, as we had the moral, scientific, educational, and sociological experts of nearly all the world mobilized and ready for further work, it would be criminal negligence not to make use of such an unprecedented opportunity. Davison agreed as to fundamentals, but was afraid that too big a programme would frighten away the representatives of other nations. We could have the larger goal in mind, he said, and hope ultimately to reach it, but we must commence with something concrete in the conventional way to secure the coÖperation of the non-American delegates.

Notwithstanding this, the Cannes Conference was an inspiring experience.

Here we were gathered from all parts of the world, exchanging condolences for the terrible ravages suffered by the various nations, watching intently, and waiting with deep fear in our hearts the outcome of the developments in Paris, hoping and praying that some definite good would result from this war, bewildered at our inability to recognize any definite signs of a coming solution, conscious that the old-fashioned diplomacy was eclipsing the modern thoughts and aims of the progressive, disinterested members at the Conference. We felt that perhaps true democracy could only exist, as it did at our Conference, where every man was chosen on account of his individual merit, and not on account of birth, or political pull, or influence; and some of us thought that, perhaps, after all, the improvement of the world would have to be brought about by a non-political body of men, whose right to serve arose from their own qualifications, and whose tenure of service would not be influenced by constant changes in government. It dawned upon us that, perhaps, these millions of members of the Red Cross Societies all over the world, with the many more millions that would join them, could undertake to establish a permanent organization that would put into practical execution all the teachings of religion, science, education, medicine, hygiene, and sociology. While those in Paris were rearranging the boundaries, we were trying to develop the universal spirit of service to all humanity which would recognize no boundaries, or class distinctions, or religious differences.

Under the presidency of Dr. Émile Roux, the worthy successor of Pasteur, it became a Congress of Scientists. Leading members of the medical profession in the Associated Nations were there, and the same tone of unselfish interest on behalf of humanity that I had found among the American representatives prevailed. Rivalries, envies, personal ambitions were totally absent; there was none of the crossing and double-crossing, scheming and misrepresentation of a political convention. These fine intellects were making a genuine effort to create an agency through which all discoveries in medicine and hygiene could be utilized for the benefit of mankind without thoughts of royalties or patents. It was a revelation to a practical business man, and I sincerely wished that more business men could profit by such an experience with practical idealists.

In private talks some of the delegates from the different countries responded wonderfully to my suggested plan, but they had been stunned by the war and were bewildered by the resultant chaos and depended on the United States to take the lead. Another thing discouraged me: no representatives were present from the general educational, sociological, or philanthropic worlds, and the best of men must necessarily see life through the glasses of their own profession. Consequently, I was not surprised, though I was disappointed, by the adoption of Colonel Strong’s programme.

It was what his remarks in Paris had indicated. Early activities were to be limited to those of an international health and statistical bureau. The Conference decided that the international societies should deal only with general hygienic improvement and child-welfare, and that even in these matters the central organization, instead of doing the actual work, should leave that to the constituent league members and confine itself to the development of policies and the collection of statistics.

The question remained: who was to be the executive of this still potentially important force?

Throughout the Conference Davison was recognized as its organizing and directing spirit. It was a delight to see him in action, to note his quick response to suggestions, his prompt absorption of committee reports, his analysis of technical addresses. Devoting the full measure of his great ability to the work, he was performing it admirably and enjoying the performance. Everything depended upon the choice of a director-general; yet here was the very man to maintain vitality in this organism: why should he not remain the leader?

The result was a heart-to-heart talk, in which I still clung to my “Vision of the Red Cross after the War.”

For two solid hours, with all the eloquence and persuasiveness I could muster, I tried to induce Henry P. Davison to abandon his business career and devote the rest of his life to this cause. I argued that the great satisfaction he plainly felt through contact with scientists of one profession indicated the enjoyment he would experience in bringing together the leaders in education, sociology, and general philanthropy; and that the ability which made him successful with the physicians would completely eclipse that success when he added to these the leaders in other fields. I told of a discussion I had had in Paris with John R. Mott, and how thoroughly he regretted that the Y.M.C.A. could not undertake this great work.

“No president of any republic,” I said, “has ever had such an opportunity as this. Here is a chance to lead an army that will eventually really improve the world. You have shown that you possess the requisite administrative ability and vision. By sterling qualities and hard work, you’ve reached the top of the business ladder. On it there is nothing above you comparable to what this new career holds. Until a few years ago you used your personal magnetism, and all the gifts so generously bestowed upon you, in finance. Now, you have been using them with phenomenal success in philanthropy. You must know that the former is ephemeral, while in the latter, the good to be done is lasting. While so many are exploiting the masses, you can lead in benefiting them. The thing that’s needed to cure the ills of man isn’t another compromise peace treaty. Practical, world-wide philanthropy is the thing that’s needed, and the man who organizes that will be the acknowledged leader of modern humanitarianism.”

Davison was really deeply moved. He listened attentively, sympathetically; he was under the spell of the ideal. But the chords that held him to materialism were too strong; he was still enmeshed.

“I’ll do everything I can to help make a success of the larger Red Cross,” he said, “but I can’t devote my entire time to it.”

“That’s not enough,” I answered. “It will be impossible for you to run an International League of Red Cross Societies the way you’re running railroads and other enterprises, from the corner of Broad and Wall streets.”

Then he put his arm around my shoulder and said, in effect:

“I don’t want to make any more money, but I owe a definite obligation to my firm and the corporations I’m connected with. I wish with my whole heart that I could go on with the Red Cross, but it’s impossible, Morgenthau—impossible!”

There being no appeal from his decision, we canvassed other names. The matter reduced itself to a choice between Franklin K. Lane and General W. W. Atterbury, and, as the latter was in France, Davison had him come to Cannes and talk the proposition over, but found that the General considered it his duty to resume his position as vice-president of the Pennsylvania Railroad as soon as he was released from the army. We then turned toward Secretary Lane, and agreed that I should send the following telegram:

The reply was another evidence of Wilson’s fine loyalty to his friends:

Davison then cabled one of his partners to see Lane personally and asked me to cable Lane direct, which was done as follows:

If Davison would have taken the director-generalship, or if it could have been given to Lane or Atterbury, or someone else of their vision and ability, the organization might have become a very different affair from what it is to-day. But this was not to be. Accident intervened before Lane would act, and the International League of Red Cross Societies added another to the list of the world’s lost chances. This is what happened:

We had come back to Paris. The Executive Committee was in session at the Hotel Regina. In an unguarded moment, Davison said:

“If Great Britain can produce a man fitted for the director-generalship, I shall consent to his appointment.”

Instantly, Sir Arthur Stanley jumped at the offer. He was president of the British Red Cross and the younger brother of the Earl of Derby, at that time British Ambassador to France. He has a lame foot, but his intellect is as agile as any man’s. His bright eyes flashed like diamonds. Trained fencer that he is, he saw the opening Davison had given him and took full advantage of it.

“I’ll investigate immediately!” said he.

I went over to Davison and in Stanley’s hearing told him that this was a mistake; the Americans should name the Director-General, because we would have to assume the burden of organization and had the resources to do so properly.

“And the French and Italians will side with you,” I added, “if it is a choice between England and us.”

Luncheon recess intervened. During it, I spoke to the Latin delegates, and they confirmed my opinion. They admitted that they had not realized what the proposition meant, and that they certainly preferred to have an American. At the afternoon session they proposed, in this hope, that the selection of a Director-General be left entirely to Davison.

He, however, said that he was committed to his proposition, though he hoped that Sir Arthur would not be able to find a man equipped for the post. Two days later, Davison informed me that Sir Arthur had proposed General David Henderson, and that he (Davison) had had thorough inquiries made about Henderson and found that his record and standing were such that no objection could be raised. Henderson became Director-General.

One last hopeful note was sounded. I had told Mr. Davison to command me if he thought I could do anything further, and I was pleasantly surprised when he came and asked me whether my offer included a dinner to the Governors of the League of the Red Cross Societies. He explained that he was making this request because a former diplomat could secure the greatly desired attendance of the diplomatic representatives now gathered at the Peace Conference.

The result was one of those thoroughly cosmopolitan dinners which could have occurred only in that city and at that time. In addition to the Red Cross board, there were present representatives of the twenty-four different countries that had been invited to join our League. Speeches were made by Ian Malcolm, speaking for Sir Arthur Stanley and Great Britain; Count Kergolay, for France; Count Frascara, for Italy; Professor Arata Nina Gawa, for Japan; Sir Eric Drummond, Secretary-General of the League of Nations; General Henderson, the newly chosen head of the Red Cross League; Count Wedel Jarlsberg, of Denmark, doyen of the Diplomatic Corps in Paris; Dr. Welch, Mrs. William K. Draper, Mr. Davison, and Dr. William Rappard, acting as interpreter and also speaking on behalf of the International Red Cross at Geneva. I presided as toastmaster and, listening to the sentiments of the various addresses, all pitched in the highest optimistic and philanthropic key, felt that here was a readiness to coÖperate that, if properly directed into action, might yet launch the organization upon the seas of larger usefulness.

This hope, however, was never realized. When we failed to retain Davison as the active leader, or to get somebody of equal ability for Director-General, I feared that the League of Red Cross Societies would become a soulless bureau; that it could not undertake any of the broader activities we had hoped for, and that this wonderful nucleus of millions of adult and junior humanitarians would never be transformed into that great army of world welfare-workers which some of us had dreamed about and that all mankind so sorely needs. Subsequent events have justified my fears.