It showed itself on many other occasions. It was his idea of the duty of the trustee, the judge, the guardian.
I remember a visit that two very warm friends from the Pacific Coast made to him, both of whom had worked night and day for his cause in the great state of the Golden West.
Their son had been convicted and was incarcerated in the Federal Prison. They had every personal reason for feeling that a mere appeal on their part on behalf of this son would be a winning one, for their friendship with the President was one of long standing and most affectionate in character. I can see him now, standing in the centre of the room, with the two old people grouped about him, shaking his head and saying, "I wish I could do it, but I must not allow personal consideration to influence me in the least. I know it is hard for you to believe that I will turn away from your request, but the only basis upon which you make it is our friendship. I would be doing an injustice to many a boy like yours who has similarly offended and for whom no one is able to speak or approach me in the intimate contact which is your privilege. Please do not think me cold- hearted, but I cannot do it."
I remember one of the last pardon cases we handled in the White House was that of an old man, charged with violating the banking laws and sentenced to imprisonment. I pleaded with the President to pardon the old man; the Attorney General had recommended it, and some of the warm-hearted members of the President's family had gone to him and sought to exert their influence in behalf of the old man. It seemed as if everything was moving smoothly and that the old man might be pardoned, until the family influence was brought to bear. It was the last pardon case I brought to his attention before the fall of the curtain on March fourth. I went to him, and said, "My dear Governor, I hope you will close your official career here by doing an act of mercy." He smiled at me and I thought I could see the prison gates open for the old man, but when I mentioned the name in the case, the President stiffened up, stopped smiling, and looking at me in the coldest way, said, "I will not pardon this man. Certain members of my family to whom I am deeply devoted, as you know, have sought to influence my judgment in this matter. They have no right to do it. I should be unworthy of my trust as President were I to permit family interference of any kind to affect my public actions, because very few people in the country can exert that kind of influence and it must not be tolerated." The case was closed; the pardon refused.
He often spoke to me in the frankest way of his personal appearance; how he looked and appeared and of the "old Scotch face," as he called it, which gave him the appearance of what Caesar called a "lean and hungry look." Speaking at the annual banquet of the Motion Picture Board of Trade, he discussed his personal appearance in this way:
"I have sometimes been very much chagrined in seeing myself in a motion picture. I have wondered if I really was that kind of a 'guy.' The extraordinary rapidity with which I walked, for example, the instantaneous and apparently automatic nature of my motion, the way in which I produced uncommon grimaces, and altogether the extraordinary exhibition I made of myself sends me to bed very unhappy. And I often think to myself that, although all the world is a stage and men and women but actors upon it, after all, the external appearance of things are very superficial indeed."
He knew that his facial expression gave one the impression that he was a cold and canny Scot. In repose one would get that impression, but when that old Scotch face took on a winning smile it was most gracious and appealing. One of his favourite limericks was:
For beauty I am not a star,
There are others more handsome by far.
But my face I don't mind it,
For I am behind it,
It's the people in front that I jar.
Behind the cold exterior and beneath the "gleam of the waters" there was a warm, generous heart. I have often thought of the character discussed by Israel Zangwill in his book "The Mantle of Elijah." These lines, in my opinion, draw a perfect picture of Woodrow Wilson as I knew him:
Speaking of Allegra's father Zangwill said: