# Dramatic Moments in American Diplomacy/Chapter Thirteen

​The Man Behind the Revolution—Room 1162, Waldorf Astoria—The Liberty Hall of Panama—Bunau-Varilla Goes Scouting in Washington—The Three Horns of the Panama Dilemma—Reading the Future Actions of the Government—Playing with Destiny—A Kingdom for a Warship—Victory on the Isthmus—"Time is of the Essence"—Intrigue and Procrastination Squelched by Theodore Roosevelt. The Dramatic Finish in John Hay's Residence.
On September 23, 1902, in room 1162 of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, the cradle of revolution, two men were in eager conference. One was Doctor Manuel Amador, conspirator plenipotentiary from Panama, prototype of those zealous but impotent soldiers of fortune that have engineered uproar in Central America as a chronic pas​pastime for the last century. He was fiery, but inconstant, patriotic but bombastic, zealous but visionary, mighty to plot but utterly incapable of action. Vanity, pride, and despair were written on his features.
The other man, Bunau-Varilla, was his antithesis in every respect. He was clear cut, with lines of prompt, decisive action written all over his features. He was a Frenchman, gifted with all the imagination and daring of his race. Courage, endurance, brilliant intelligence, limitless resources, a flashing wit, and a contempt for obstacles, had already made his name famous throughout the civilized world, and yet he was in a sense an adventurer. Like a knight of old on the road to Palestine, he represented nobody. In the tremendous and dangerous game of world politics and national destinies he played a lone hand, relying only upon his own unbounded spirit and consummate audacity.
He had just arrived in New York from Paris. Upon learning of the amazing action ​of Colombia, this indomitable champion of the Isthmian canal had gone into action. Within half an hour he was in the office of M. Lindo. M. Lindo was the head of the largest banking house of New York and Panama. We have M. Bunau-Varilla's own record of events.
"'Well, M. Lindo,' said I, after the first exchange of compliments, 'is the rumour true that the people of Panama are going to make a revolution?'
"He shrugged his shoulders in a disheartening way and said: 'Faltan recursos.' ('They have no financial means.')
"'What!' said I, disappointed at this answer. 'These people who are ever ready to make a revolution for insignificant causes, are going to keep quiet when Colombia decrees that they must die of hunger.'
"'It can't be helped,' he said. 'Without money a revolution cannot be brought about any more than a war. But if you care to know what the situation really is I will ask Amador to come and see you.'
​"'What!' said I, surprised, 'Amador is here?'
"'Yes,' answered Lindo, lowering his voice, 'he has come precisely to obtain the means of bringing about a revolution, but he has failed and is sailing for Panama in a few days. He will tell you all. He is in despair.'"
It was the following morning that Amador and Bunau-Varilla sat face to face in room 1162 of the Waldorf Astoria, and there lies the key to the Revolution of Panama, as is revealed by the working of this master Diplomat-at-Large.
Amador was speaking, agitated with suppressed emotion and indignation.
"During the past year" said he, "a group of citizens of the Isthmus, of whom I was one, have met together to consider the measures to be taken if Colombia rejected the Hay-Herran Treaty.
"We one and all agreed that such a decision would ruin the inhabitants and transform the Isthmus into a virgin forest
​"Confronted by a decision so despotic, we decided to prepare for an armed combat, rather than submit passively to the tyrant's sentence of death.
"But Colombia was capable of crushing all resistance. * * * Consequently we turned our eyes toward the great American Republic. * * *
"Why should not this great Republic, so rich, so powerful, give the necessary co-operation in money and military force?
"This idea seemed to us so reasonable that we decided to entrust with a mission to the United States a certain Beers, more generally known by the name of Captain Beers.
"He was an employee of the Panama Railroad. His mission consisted in visiting the right persons in order to learn whether this double support could be obtained.
"The persons whom Beers saw assured him that nothing was easier and they promised to obtain all that we asked for. * * *
"Our friends then decided to delegate two of their number in order to reach a final under​standing. I was one of the two delegates but I was forced to go alone. As soon as I arrived I was received with open arms by the persons whom Captain Beers had seen. I was to go to Washington to see Mr. Hay, Secretary of State, in order to conclude the final transaction.
"But suddenly the attitude of the person who was to take me to Washington entirely changed.
"Whenever I went to see him, strict orders had been given to the effect that he was not in. I had to install myself in the hall, to camp there, and, so to speak, besiege his office. Nothing resulted from it. And there I am. All is lost. At any moment the conspiracy may be discovered and my friends judged, sentenced to death, and their property confiscated. * * *"
And the older man stopped speaking, nearly choked by his intense emotion.
"Dr. Amador," said the Frenchman, "you are telling me a very sad story, but why did you withhold the name of the man who thus ​promised the gold of the American Treasury, the Army and Navy of the United States? This childish proposition bears the stamp of the man who formulated it. * * * What, you believed in such empty talk? It is an unpardonable folly. With your imprudence you have indeed brought yourself to a pretty pass."
"Alas!" said Amador, "if we had been only dropped, but the case is much worse." And he went on to tell how this man had been warned that their messages were being intercepted but had failed to tell Amador. Concluded the unhappy filibuster, "I have been thus exposed unwittingly to the danger of giving up my friends to death. * * *"
In saying this, the old doctor could scarcely master his intense exasperation.
"Calm yourself, my poor Doctor, you are the victim of your own heedlessness. * * * Tell me what are your hopes and on what are based your chances of success. Tell me calmly, methodically, precisely."
These words soothed the exasperation of ​Amador. He remained some minutes before recovering his sang-froid. Then he continued in the following terms:
"There is to-day only a weak Colombian garrison at Panama. * * * A revolution would to-day meet with no obstacles. But the Colombians have the command of the sea; their ships' crews are loyal. We must first, therefore, acquire a fleet to prevent Colombia from overwhelming with her troops the province of Panama.
"Besides that we want arms. It was to obtain ships and arms that I have come here. Our first envoy. Captain Beers, had been assured, and the same pledge was repeated to me when I came, that the United States would give us all the money we needed to buy arms and ships and to pay the troops."
"How big a sum do you consider necessary?"
"We need $6,000,000."
"My dear Doctor," answered Bunau-Varilla, ​"you have exposed the situation to me and you come to ask for advice. I answer: Let me think it over. At first glance I see no way out of the labyrinth which imprisons you. Tomorrow perhaps I shall find one. At any rate you ask for advice. I give it to you; remain here, and wait patiently until I see how the land lies. * * * I have not only to think myself, but to find out as well what others think in order to get you out of the difficulty. * * * In the meanwhile, remain, and see nobody. If you want to speak to me over the 'phone take the name of Smith. I shall take that of Jones."
And with these words, Bunau-Varilla departed. He went to solve a problem perplexing others greater than Amador. The fate of the great ship canal, and the future perhaps of more than one country, hung upon the solution of this problem. It was at that moment the subject of grave concern to Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States, to the ​Foreign Office in France, to the merchants of the world, to the court of Tokio, as well as the blackmail senate in Bogota and the Democratic opposition in the coming election.
This delicate diplomatic situation was the result of an unusual series of events.
In 1876 the great French engineer, Count Ferdinand de Lesseps, had formed a company which had purchased from Colombia the concession to build a canal across the Isthmus of Panama. Facing the jeers of a sceptical world, unparalleled physical difficulties, and the scourge of a fever more dreadful than war, an army of intrepid and loyal Frenchmen had struggled at the task for eight years. They laboured in the face of insuperable obstacles and almost certain death, encouraged by the ardour of adding this gigantic project to the glory and fame of their native land. This magnificent attribute, devotion to country, the secret of the splendour and power of France, was in this case unequal to the task of combatting the national weakness—a love of intrigue ​and scandal. Politics got hold of the proposition, and there ensued a carnival of calumnies and canards, epithets and recriminations the like of which has hardly a parallel.
The company went into bankruptcy; slander and defamation tied the hands of the great engineer, and the hundreds of thousands of citizens who had invested in the great patriotic enterprise were left without a friend in the government or banking interests of France. Of the great army of engineers and financiers, dreamers and adventurers that began the great enterprise, one only remained, still firm in his intention to build this canal and vindicate his chief and his comrades, and give lustre to the genius of France.
His name was Philippe Bunau-Varilla, at one time chief engineer of the canal, and in the end the sole remaining champion of its feasibility. He had no official capacity in France, and not even any further connection with the bankrupt company. He was obsessed with a mania that the world needed the canal and that ​France should have the credit. Armed with an indomitable will, the most exact mathematical knowledge of every detail of the work and the engineering problems, and his own private fortune, he set out to put it through. Public opinion, revolutions, state secrets, the sanctity of courts and cabinets, the power of armies, and the destinies of peoples were thenceforth his tools and his media. That the Senator from Missouri—old Gum-shoe Bill Stone—should have failed to recognize such a personality and such a conception is no wonder. Bill's reasoning was not so very bad. He saw a revolution engineered in Panama with a promptness, decision, and unerring execution never before known. He concluded that it was the work of a genius. He decided that his great enemy, Roosevelt, was the most probable and convenient, if not the only genius on the boards. As we shall see, Roosevelt had no more to do with it than I had.
Well, when the company went into bankruptcy, Bunau-Varilla went to Germany and ​England and Russia. He commanded the attention of czars and emperors. He hypnotized international bankers. He drew pictures of national glory for the chancelleries of Europe. But he could not raise the Canal from the dead. And then, when human effort failed, fate gave him an opening. It all came about from three things.
1. The trip of the Oregon from San Francisco to Santiago around Cape Horn.
2. The eruption of Mont Pelée and the destruction of Saint-Pierre in Martinique.
3. A Nicaraguan one-centavo postage stamp.
The race of the Oregon convinced the United States that national safety demanded an Isthmian canal.
The unanimous opinion and prejudice of Congress and the people in favour of Nicaragua were shattered by the imminent danger of earthquakes brought home by the Martinique disaster. The final argument that Nicaragua was not a volcanic country was met ​by Bunau-Varilla himself by mailing every Senator a Nicaraguan one-centavo stamp, showing a picture of Momotombo in spectacular eruption above the very lake through which the canal was to pass.
This turned the scales in favour of Panama. On the 19th of June, 1902, the Spooner bill passed both houses. It provided that a canal should be built across the Isthmus of Panama on condition that the French company would sell its interests and could give a clear title, and that the Department of State could make a satisfactory treaty with Colombia.
The French company agreed to sell for $40,000,000.
After the usual vacillation and subterfuges M. Herran, on behalf of Colombia, and John Hay, Secretary of State, signed a treaty which was satisfactory. It gave the United States control of the Canal zone, and Colombia $10,000,000 and $250,000 a year.
All that remained was for the Colombian Senate to ratify the treaty.
​This they were under every moral obligation to do. Colombia was ruled by a dictator. Under apprehension that the United States might build in Nicaragua he had made every effort and representation to obtain the treaty. He had ordered his minister to grant every privilege to the French company, so that there might be no question of their right to transfer their interest, and he had begun and pushed the negotiations. The whole civilized world was awaiting a canal with impatience, and the highest reasons of state, including the military protection of the nation, demanded that a decision be reached between these two routes and the work begun. The Colombian knew this and obtained his treaty and ousted Nicaragua—with the aid of fortune and the unremitting campaign of Bunau-Varilla.
But as the treaty was signed, and all eyes turned to Panama, the ring at Bogota decided not to ratify. Their dispatches and resolutions show why, and constitute the most monumentally bare-faced and audacious blackmail ​and hold-up ever attempted in daylight by any civilized country. They proposed that the price be doubled and that the treaty should wait until the French concession should lapse and then take the French $40,000,000 for themselves. In other words, purely and simply, that they should hold up one party to the agreement, and entirely steal the interest of the other. That is the whole case, completely substantiated by the documents, which I would give if there were space. No one who has not read them is qualified or has a right to discuss this Panama affair.
What should be done under these circumstances? Panama said Revolution. Old Doctor Amador had been sent to get the guns. He had found bad counsel, and was inoculated with the impossible dream of help from Washington. His legal friends in New York had failed even to approach the White House with the proposal.
But Bunau-Varilla was out to find a plan. Cognizant of every detail of the history of the ​régime, he knew that diplomatically there were just three possibilities:
One was the adoption by the United States of the Nicaragua route, and the crashing of his life's work. A second was the Revolution whose dying hopes he now controlled.
The third was independent action of the United States under an old treaty made with New Granada, the predecessor of Colombia, in 1848.
The essential points of this treaty were:
"1. The Government of New Granada guarantees to the United States that the right of way or transit across the Isthmus of Panama upon any modes of communication that now exist or that may be hereafter constructed, shall be open and free to the government and citizens of the United States."
The question was whether this guarantee of right of way upon any mode of transit that might be hereafter constructed, did not of itself justly and necessarily imply and include the right of construction.
​Before he could act he felt obliged to discover which of these plans the State Department had in mind. If they had given up Panama, all was lost indeed. Unless they would instantly support a revolution, such a proceeding would be suicidal. If the United States proposed to take the zone anyway, the Revolution would be superfluous. Being astute as well as honourable he was aware that under no circumstances could he acquire his information directly, or get the slightest assurance or encouragement from the government. He had a higher opinion of Theodore Roosevelt and John Hay than many of their countrymen—who say that they instigated the revolt—have since evinced.
On this impossible errand he went to Washington. He paid a social call upon the Honourable Francis B. Loomis, Assistant Secretary of State. He told him that he had recently taken an important proprietary interest in the great French newspaper, Le Matin.
"Then you ought to present to the President ​the compliments of Le Matin. Do you know Mr. Roosevelt personally?"
"I have not that honour."
"The President will be glad to receive you. I will go and inquire."
In a few minutes he was in the presence of Theodore Roosevelt. Bunau-Varilla says: "We conversed about Le Matin. I was awaiting an opportunity to bring up the Panama subject, Mr. Loomis having cited the publication of the famous bordereau in the Dreyfus affair as being among the great achievements of Le Matin, I jumped at the opportunity. The bridge was found, I crossed it. 'Mr. President,' I said, 'Captain Dreyfus has not been the only victim of detestable political passions. Panama is another.'
"'Oh, yes,' exclaimed the President, suddenly interested. 'That is true. You have devoted much time and effort to Panama, Mr. Bunau-Varilla. Well, what do you think is going to be the outcome of the present situation?'
​"It was then or never. I could by his answer know exactly what the President had in mind. I remained silent for a moment, and then pronounced the following four words in a slow, decided manner:
"'Mr. President, a revolution.'
"The features of the President manifested profound surprise. 'A revolution,' he repeated, mechanically. Then he turned instinctively toward Mr. Loomis, who remained standing, impassive, and he said in a low tone, as if speaking to himself:
"'A revolution! * * * Would it be possible? * * * But if it became a reality, what would become of the plan we had thought of?' * * * He quickly recovered himself, and asked, 'What makes you think so?'"
The champion of the canal returned to the game by stating that he had certain special indications which led infallibly to that conclusion, and withdrew.
This was all. Every word. And yet from ​this the subtle Frenchman concluded that a revolution would be welcome and that the chief magistrate stood by the Panama route.
It remained now for a foreigner in New York without boats or guns or treasury, without influence or authority, to execute the coup d'etat. Not the least of his difficulties was the inane, suspicious, proud, vain, and vacillating character of his revolutionists.
One thing was certain. Without the conviction that the power of the United States was behind them, these timid patriots would do nothing.
In his dilemma he recalled a scene enacted under his eyes years before, when he was at work on the Culebra Cut. A religious civil war had broken out in Colombia, and the government had sent troops, to subdue revolters on the Isthmus, and a United States cruiser in the harbour had landed marines, preventing the landing of the government troops, and all fighting. They had done this under the old ​treaty, by which the United States undertook to keep order and open transit across the Isthmus.
If they would do it then, why not now? Anyway, he decided to stake everything upon this probability.
But to reassure himself he went again to the State Department. Mr. Loomis introduced him to the Secretary, John Hay. It was well known that this great statesman regarded the completion of the canal of transcendant importance to the world.
In discussing the matter Bunau-Varilla said;
"When all the counsels of prudence and friendship have been made in vain, there comes a moment when one has to stand still and await events."
"These events," he asked the Secretary, "what do you think they will be?"
"The whole thing will end in a revolution," answered this master of revolution. "You must take your measures if you do not want yourself to be taken by surprise."
​"Yes," said Mr. Hay, "that is unfortunately the most probable hypothesis. But we shall not be caught napping. Orders have been given to naval forces on the Pacific to sail toward Panama."
Prompt, decisive, daring action followed. Within a day this extraordinary man constituted himself the Jefferson, the Washington, and the Benjamin Franklin of the new Republic of Panama. He wrote the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, a methodical plan of the military operations to be conducted, complete details of the three days' defence of the Isthmus which he considered necessary, and a cipher code for dispatches, and most important of all, he prepared in advance the exact cables to be sent appointing a minister plenipotentiary to the United States capable of the direct, reliable, and prompt action necessary to satisfy this exasperated country. None other in fact than Philippe Bunau-Varilla. It was magnificent.
​With these exhibits complete, and a flag devised for the occasion by Madame, he repaired again to the Liberty Hall of the Isthmus of Panama—to wit, room 1162 Waldorf Astoria Hotel.
There like a Napoleon he issued orders to the astonished conspirator. "Dr. Amador, the moment has come to clear the deck for action. Be satisfied with my assertions. There is no more time for discussing their genesis.
"I can give you assurance that you will be protected by the American forces forty-eight hours after you have proclaimed the new Republic in the whole Isthmus.
"Then will begin a delicate period, that of the complete recognition of the new Republic. The fight will be in Washington. I take the responsibility of it. I take also the responsibility of obtaining for you, from a bank, or of furnishing you myself, the one hundred thousand dollars which are necessary to you."
So Amador sailed with injunction to have ​the Declaration of Independence issued and a government in being by the 3rd of November—five days after his landing. And not only with everything prepared to the last detail, but with the text of the telegram he was to send announcing the new government and appointing Bunau-Varilla minister plenipotentiary to the United States with unlimited authority to negotiate a concession for the canal. And most important of all, with the firm conviction that this masterful Frenchman had at his command the navy of the United States, and the unbounded power and authority of Richelieu of old.
This last delusion proved the crux of the whole affair. For no sooner had the excited doctor arrived than the conspirators demanded proof. "If Bunau-Varilla is so powerful, let him prove it. He says we shall be protected forty-eight hours after establishing the new Republic. Well? We will believe him if he is capable of sending an American man of war ​to Colon at our request." So they wired that the Colombian troops were arriving in five days and asked for the warship.
So it was up to this ingenious man to send a warship or to make them think he sent it. He boarded the train for Washington. He went to see every secretary, senator, and gossip he knew or could get access to, including Loomis. To all he said the same thing.
"Remember the date of November 3, 1903. That day will behold a repetition of what happened there on the 1st of April, 1885. The armed conflict which will be the cause of it is expected everywhere. It is spoken of publicly in the press. The only difference between 1885 and 1903 is that the blame will not be attributed to the captain of a man of war in the waters of Colon. It will rest on the Government of the United States itself."
If the papers were not full of it before, they certainly were after this announcement.
So both ends were played against the middle. There could be no revolution without a war​ship. Also, there could be no warship without a revolution. Very well, the United States had been sufficiently informed that there was going to be a riot on November 3rd. That being the case, undoubtedly they would send the ships. It remained to use this fact to its limit to encourage the juntas and convince them that they were in the hands of a great power.
Bunau-Varilla planned to leave them in their delusion. He looked up the position of the navy. The Nashville was at Kingston. He felt sure it would be ordered to Colon. It would take two days and a half to get there. It was now the 29th of October. He cabled Amador in his code.
"All right. Will reach two days and a half."
They understood this to mean that he had ordered a warship to their assistance that would arrive in two days and a half.
This was one of the greatest impudences and most splendid bluffs ever made by a private in​dividual in international affairs. It was worthy of Athos at his best.
The news was spread over the whole town of Colon that at Bunau-Varilla's request the Americans were coming to protect Panama. On the morning of Nov. 2nd the entire population was scanning the sea in doubt and curiosity. As the hours passed, disappointment and chagrin clouded their hearts. By night, they were in despair. When lo! Smoke was descried on the horizon. Miracle of miracles, —amid a burst of "delirious enthusiasm" the Nashville sailed into the harbour with the Star-Spangled Banner floating in the breeze.
And sitting in the Waldorf Astoria the manipulator of events, this maker of diplomacy by induction and mathematics, received the fateful telegram:
"Independence of the Isthmus proclaimed without bloodshed.
"Amador."
The Colombian troops arrived all right and ​fell into the popular delusion upon sight of the American flag. They threatened to shoot every American in the vicinity. The commander of the Nashville, neither knowing nor caring about these plots and delusions, landed his marines as he was accustomed to do when riot seemed impending and before what appeared the armed intervention of the United States, the Colombians withdrew. Panama was a free and independent Republic.
In the entire history of our diplomacy there is no finer example of the power and success of quick and drastic measures than that now taken by Theodore Roosevelt. Nicaraguans, peace cranks, sentimental adherents of Colombia, old line political opponents, were lining up for ten years more of harangue and argument, and the Colombian cable began frantically to offer anything on earth to get back into the running. Roosevelt says he took the Canal. It must have been with peculiar pleasure that within a week after the events recounted he received M. Bunau-Varilla in state at the White House ​as the accredited minister plenipotentiary from the now fully recognized Republic of Panama.
No two men ever worked with greater harmony and dispatch than this astonishing ambassador and John Hay. Another grave danger was impending. Panama was sending two of its bombastic citizens to haggle and debate and parade their importance at Washington. After their arrival all accomplishment would have been at the mercy of endless conversation and formal trivialities.
Success in the consummation of the treaty depended upon rapidity of movement.
On Sunday, Nov. 15th, John Hay wrote to Bunau-Varilla:
"Dear Mr. Minister: I enclose a project of a Treaty. Please return it to me with your suggestions at your earliest convenience."
The sequel might be a lesson to all the foreign offices and ambassadors in the world. It is a demonstration of the fact that two capable and fair-minded men can come to an international agreement without interminable formal​ity and conventions, proposals and counter proposals. That where both parties honestly and earnestly desire justice for the other, as well as themselves, and are not burdened with the dead wood of precedent and the desire for some concealed advantage, they can reach a satisfactory conclusion in an incredibly short time.
Bunau-Varilla, a Frenchman, whose life Had been dedicated to this international canal, sat down that very day with the Hay-Pauncefote treaty between England and America, the old treaty with Colombia, his instructions from Panama, and his sense of fair play, and wrote a document which was not only satisfactory to John Hay, but to the suspicious Panamanians and to the hostile senate and posterity. He sent it to the Secretary of State saying it was his suggestion.
On the 18th he received this short summons:
"Will you kindly call at my house at six o'clock to-day?
"John Hay."
​The newspaper reporters were at the door. They had seen the head of the Treaties Bureau go in, and were expecting an historical event.
The Hay-Bunau-Varilla treaty was signed within a few minutes, just fifteen days after the birth of the new nation. It is recorded that the minister sealed the bond with John Hay's signet ring.
It gave the United States the use, occupation, and control of the canal zone in perpetuity for $10,000,000.
Next morning the committee arrived from Panama to palaver. It was too late.
On the following day General Reyes arrived from Colombia to intrigue. It was too late.
Prompt decisive action had at last given the United States an essential military control over its own waters, and the world the prospect of an inestimable boon.
Moreover it had saved the country from a most embarrassing position it would have been in toward the French Republic. No one knew better than Roosevelt that France could not ​stand by idle and allow Colombia to plunder her citizens out of a life's work and sacrifice, and $40,000,000 in cold cash ; and yet, any action that France could have taken to prevent such a solution would have constituted a most unwelcome challenge to the American Doctrine of Monroe.
Without reserve it is our pleasure to give first prize for the conception and initiative in this great enterprise to France. For the execution of the most successful revolution on record, we recommend Bunau-Varilla, who has since received the decoration of the Legion of Honour for conspicuous bravery on the firing line at Verdun where he lost a leg. The ultimate responsible action stands to the everlasting credit of Theodore Roosevelt.