You speak of Mr. Hughes to ten men in the Capitol, and nine of them
will say to you, "Of course it is easy to understand; his is the
one real mind in Washington."
Everyone is impressed, for, starting with no other initiation into
the mysteries of foreign relations than having had a father born in
Wales and having spent his vacations in England, probably in the
lake region studying the topography of Wordsworth's poetry,--a
certain oft detected resemblance to Wilson must make Wordsworth his
favorite poet, as he was Wilson's,--in ten days was he not a great
Secretary of State; and in three months the greatest Secretary of
State? To be sure, back of him was the strongest nation on the
earth, left so by the war, the one nation with resources, the
creditor of all the others, to which a successful foreign policy
would be naturally easy if it could only decide what that policy
should be.
It was left to Mr. Hughes to say what it should be. His discovery
of the word "interests," amazed Washington; it was so obvious, so
simple that no one else had thought of it. Mr. Hughes' mind works
like that;--hard, cold, unemotional, not to be turned aside, it
simplifies everything, whether it be a treaty fight that has
confused everyone else in the land, or a rambling Cabinet
discussion; whether it be the mess in which the war left Europe, or
the chaos in which watchful waiting left Mexico.
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