He had the air of being at once virile and venerable, for his hair and his long, almost patriarchal beard were both grey. But the figure was alert. He walked up and down the room the whole time we were talking. The grey-blue eyes were quick and keen and steady. I may also add, en parenthèse, that he was one of the handsomest men I have ever spoken to.
He told me the story of the battle between reaction and advancement, corruption and comparative cleanliness, just as a man who had seen it all but had taken no share in it might have done. The story is history now, and needn’t be repeated here. To me the most interesting fact was that President Dole told it without once mentioning himself until it became unavoidable.
When the fighting was over there were seven conspicuous citizens of Honolulu in prison under sentence of death as conspirators against the Commonwealth, and it rested with Mr. Dole to say whether they should be executed or not.
“It was, of course, a very painful position for me to be placed in,” he said. “You see I was the head of the Provisional Government and Chief Magistrate, and some of them were personal acquaintances of my own.”
“Then, after all, you had something to do with it, Mr. President? That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention yourself in the whole story.”
There was a smile under the heavy moustache as he answered:
“Oh, yes, of course, I had a good deal to do with it. When the revolution was over they elected me President; and the prisoners—well, we sentenced them to different terms of imprisonment, and then let them out gradually. To tell you the truth I hadn’t much fancy for signing death-warrants.”
I was afterwards told on quite reliable authority that if the revolution had not succeeded, Sanford B. Dole and a few others would undoubtedly have been hung.
Mr. Dole, being of American descent, very naturally considered that the United States were the proper Power to run the Hawaiian Islands, whether the Hawaiians liked it or not. It is a way that all great Powers have with small ones. We have it ourselves to a considerable extent. In fact, we once had these same islands with all their vast possibilities. That was in the dark ages of British diplomacy when colonies were “not wanted.” So a few distinguished idiots in Downing Street gave orders for the flag to be hauled down from the flagstaff on the Old Fort of Honolulu. After which it avails little for an Englishman to talk about Cousin Jonathan stealing the islands for himself.
Mr. Dole assisted conspicuously and, I believe, quite conscientiously in the transfer. He saw that it was either annexation or semi-barbarism and corruption. He thought that what great Powers call annexation and small ones call stealing was the better of the two, and I think he was right.