THE PEACE CONFERENCE
In Paris we found an entirely different state of affairs from that at
Cannes. I was drawn almost immediately into the maelstrom of the Peace
Conference: it was a rude awakening. Instead of men who were freely
utilizing their individual attainments for the general good, this was a
battle of conflicting interests, petty rivalries and schemes for
national aggrandizement. Each group of all the world’s ablest and
craftiest statesmen and politicians was seeking advantages for its own
political entity and resorting to every old, and many new, methods to
gain its ends.
The representatives of the various countries had come expecting to find
an international court of justice, where a set of supermen would
rearrange the earth, settle all disputes, terminate all grievances, and
make a new world-map along fair ethnological and national lines. Yet
nobody knew how this was to be done. The little nations looked to the
big, but the big were too much concerned with their own affairs, and
with the division of the spoils, to be able suddenly to convert
themselves into impartial judges. Loyalty to their own countries
overshadowed their interest in the general good. There was just so much
benefit to be divided, and in the struggle of everyone to secure a
larger share for himself, many failed to get anything, and almost
nothing was left for the common good.
Nearly all were scheming to weaken the arch-enemy, Germany, by
despoiling her of territory and creating strong safeguards around her.
The best comparison that comes to my mind is that of a legal contest
over the terms of a will disposing of a large estate. All the possible
heirs were here in Paris: the legitimate, the illegitimate, and such
posthumous children as Czecho-Slovakia and Poland were crowding into
court. Five trustees had, indeed, been appointed to effect a just
division--the representatives of Great Britain, France, Italy, Japan,
and the United States--but these, with the exception of America, were
themselves claimants, and the pleas were so conflicting that no human
genius, or group of them, could have rendered a decision to the
satisfaction of all. President Wilson realized this, and partly because
of it proposed a League of Nations as a permanent court to settle what
could not be settled at the Peace Conference.
My observations were made from an advantageous position. The hopes and
ambitions of the various powers were centred in President Wilson; their
representatives were courting him and his friends, and as I had, at the
request of the United States commissioners, joined William H. Buckler in
studying the Turkish problem, my rooms at the hotel were soon
transformed into a sort of office and general meeting-place for some of
the most interesting figures at the Conference.
Kerenski was one of these. He was not apparently the consumptive figure
pictured by the daily press; on the contrary, he was a burly man with a
thick neck and a mighty voice. When he pleaded his case, he waxed so
eloquent, and his tones reached such a pitch, that I had to close the
windows for fear outsiders might think there was a fight in my rooms.
Although representing no established government and personifying the
Russian régime that had overthrown Czarism, only to be itself supplanted
by the Bolsheviki, Kerenski felt that the services of the real Russian
people to the Allied cause entitled his party to a hearing at the Peace
Conference. Prophetically, he told me that the extremists did not
represent the Russian people, and that they were forcing things too far
ever to succeed. I remember almost his exact words:
“Russia is finished with the past, but is by no means ready to go to its
antithesis. I myself represent the middle course, and the world will
some day realize that my government was evolutionary, not
revolutionary.”
Kerenski was especially hurt by the fact that “even the Americans” would
not listen to him. With fiery phrases, he explained convincingly that
there could be no general peace until Russian affairs were adjusted, and
that 160,000,000 people who had so manfully contributed their full share
against Prussianism could not justly, or even safely, be ignored.
“I am not the spokesman of them all,” he admitted; “but I do represent
the political sentiment that must eventually prevail.”
Dr. Robert Lord was in charge of Russian affairs for the American
delegation. I had him meet Kerenski the next day in my rooms, and from
this meeting an invitation to the Crillon followed.
A more pathetic picture was that presented by the Chinese delegation.
They gave a dinner to a number of Americans, including Thomas Lamont,
Edward A. Filene, Senator Hollis, Charles R. Crane, Professor Taussig,
and myself. The affair may have been hopefully conceived, but, on that
very day, Ray Stannard Baker came to them with President Wilson’s
message that he had to consent to the Japanese pretensions in Shantung.
We had gone for a banquet; we remained for a wake. The Chinese delegates
frankly feared that their failure to secure a proper adjustment with
Japan might so exasperate their people at home as to lead to personal
harm to them. They felt that their treatment by the Conference would
arouse their nation from its ancient lethargy and transform it into a
military power that might eventually avenge its injured pride. One of
them said to me:
“We have a much firmer moral foundation than Japan, and we have a
population of 400,000,000 as against its 56,000,000. We possess as much
latent power as the Japanese, and I dread to contemplate what may happen
if it is ever aroused.”
To look into the eyes of those Chinamen as they talked to us and to
observe their bearing under the trying circumstances of that evening was
to learn a lesson in restraint. The gravity of their situation was
freely admitted, and yet they were perfect hosts to us Americans whose
leader had just disappointed them.
Even more pathetic than the Chinese discouragement was the hopeless case
of the Persian delegates. Having come thousands of miles to present
their plea for a new opportunity to achieve national regeneration, they
were denied even a hearing by the peace commissioners. They pleaded for
a release from the British-Russian yoke. They told us wonderful stories
of their natural resources that could be developed promptly and with
great profit if they could only be assured of security, or if they could
feel secure from the interference by the larger nations, and assured of
the coöperation of, instead of exploitation by, foreign capital. They
alluded to iron and coal, copper, lead, and manganese. The stories they
told reminded one of the descriptions of Mexico and Peru before they
were conquered by Cortez and Pizarro. Those cases involved all the risks
of conquest in an unknown country, and the voyages thither were fraught
with grave danger, while here was a nation whose resources were not in
doubt, but could be examined at leisure, and by experts, and their
existence proven; and the Persians who had been educated abroad and knew
European conditions fairly implored us to bring within the reach of
Persia the benefits of the progress made by these other countries during
the last few hundred years, while Persia was allowed to remain untouched
and unbenefited by those wonderful recent inventions that have enriched
all the countries that utilized them. Ali Kuli Khan, with his charming
American wife, whom I had known previously, told me that, at a large
dinner which the Persians had given, one of our American Peace
Commissioners publicly promised them that the United States delegation
would help them to a hearing; relying on this promise, Ali Kuli Khan had
transmitted the news to his home government, only to have his hopes
speedily dashed to pieces.
Bratiano, the Roumanian premier, was anxious to secure American
influence against a clause in the Roumanian treaty recognizing the
rights of minority peoples resident in his country. He invited my wife
and me to dine with him and two royal princesses of his native land,
Elizabeth and Marie, who have since respectively become the wives of the
Crown Prince of Greece and the King of Serbia. When I told him that the
United States was absolutely pledged to securing the equal rights for
minorities everywhere, and that I heartily favoured this, he showed his
disappointment and said that Roumania would never consent to it. He
declared:
“I would rather resign as premier than sign such a treaty.”
When the time came, he made good his word.
In contrast to this unyielding ultra-conservative’s point of view was
the Duc de Vendôme’s, the Bourbon, and as such, of the royal blood of
France. He was married to the sister of the King of Belgium. It is
rather an amusing story to tell how I became acquainted with him. While
we were at Cannes in the midst of the conferences, one day, Colonel
Strong interrupted me at lunch to introduce me to a Miss Curtis from
Boston, who invited some of us to lunch with her in order to meet some
of the residents of Cannes. We accepted and met, among others, Lady
Waterlow, an American, whose husband had been Lord Mayor of London. This
acquaintance resulted in her inviting us to a tea at her home, and I
there met the Duchess of Vendôme, and at that meeting she invited me to
call on them in Paris, as her husband desired to make my acquaintance.
I saw the Vendomes several times, and at a reception which they gave the
guests were all bewildered as to when they had the right to sit down.
They could not sit if any of the royalties were standing, and as five
were at the reception, it was quite a task to watch until all were
seated. The Duke saw my embarrassment and took me into a private room,
which no other royalty was apt to invade, and we sat there and he opened
his heart to me. He seemed convinced of the justice of the new order of
things, and thought that royalty would soon be a lost profession. He was
extremely anxious to be permitted to share in the work of the League of
Nations, and asked me to arrange for him an opportunity to meet Colonel
House, whom he, like many others in Paris at that time, thought would be
the chief of the representatives of the United States in the League of
Nations. The dinner was arranged, and it was somewhat amusing, and my
democratic spirit smiled at the spectacle of a duke and brother-in-law
of one of the few remaining kings in Europe acting like an American
politician and wire-pulling for an opportunity to render public service.
Still more striking was the freer manner of Vesnitz, the gatherings at
whose house were thoroughly cosmopolitan. He had been Serbian Minister
in Paris, and now represented there the new Jugo-Slavia, which he had
helped to create. Whereas Bratiano had represented only the
aristocracy, Vesnitz represented _all_ the Croats, Serbs, and Slovenes.
He wanted this new nation to be self-supporting, with its own seaport
and sufficient hinterland. He, too, was married to an American, and
thought and talked like one. He spoke perfect English, was a man of much
learning, and his country suffered a great loss when he died.
Another outstanding Old-World democrat at the Peace Conference was
Venizelos. The Greek Premier was anxious to impress us with the justice
of his country’s claims, and through Mr. Politis, his Foreign Minister,
and Dr. Metaxa, whom I had known in New York, we met soon after my
return to Paris.
Born in the Isle of Crete, Venizelos had participated in the Revolution
that freed his island from Turkey and made it a part of Greece. He
started the Progressive movement in Greece, and became the leader of
that group which prevented King Constantine from joining with Germany in
the war. Later, despite the efforts of Queen Olga, the Kaiser’s sister,
this forceful lawyer brought Greece into the war on the side of the
Allies.
Because of his charm of manner, his assertiveness, and his persuasive
powers, he accomplished wonders in Paris. The fact that he spoke English
was a great help to him. It was a common saying that when Venizelos left
Colonel House’s room, the map-makers were sent for to re-draw the map.
He asked for more than he expected, and got it nearly all. He possessed
the suavity and diplomatic skill of a Benjamin Franklin and the
constructive statesmanship of an Alexander Hamilton. He had a firm grip
of all the ramifications and complications of international affairs.
Nations, no matter what their government may be, are still ungrateful.
Greece eventually preferred Constantine to Venizelos!
When discussing with Henry White the Greek invasion of Smyrna, I told
him that the Greeks were making a mistake and that they would be drawn
into a tedious struggle with the Turks. They would have to draw heavily
on their resources and on their people’s patience, which would be
severely strained if, as I feared, the war lasted for years. White was
deeply impressed.
“I want you to tell that to Venizelos,” he said.
He knew everybody, and his bringing people together was not the least of
his services to our Commission. He invited the Greek Premier to his
rooms in the Crillon, and there I repeated my opinion.
I told him in great detail the changes that had taken place in Turkey
since the beginning of the war, and described to him the characters of
the men that were now in power. I also explained to him the great
importance they put on retaining possession of the Port of Smyrna, now
that they had lost most of their other ports on the Mediterranean. I
felt certain that they would draw the Grecian Army back into their
hinterland, and away from their base of supplies, and then would
continue to fight them by legitimate, or even guerrilla, methods, until
they exhausted them. I reminded him how the Turks not only forbade their
own people to employ Greeks, but even insisted that the American firms
could not use Grecian workmen to collect the licorice root, or the
Singer Manufacturing Company continue to have Greeks in charge of their
Turkish agencies. I also alluded to the difficulties of governing Smyrna
from Athens, as Constantinople would divide their country, and the cost
of administration would be beyond the present and prospective resources
of Greece, and, finally, I reminded him that they would antagonize Italy
and said: “You know better than I do what that means for Greece.”
Venizelos listened patiently to my elaboration of this theme.
“Perhaps we have acted too hastily,” he said, “and if all you say is
true, it may have been unwise for us to send an army into Smyrna, but
now that the army is there, it would be more unwise to withdraw it--to
do so would admit military, and court political, defeat. The Monarchists
are plotting constantly against me in Athens, and they are backed by the
merchants and shipping men who are over-ambitious and want new territory
for their operations.”
Venizelos admitted that he favoured the annexation of Thrace and of
Smyrna proper. His explanation satisfied me that it was pressure from
Greek financiers that made him continue to enlarge his demands.
My meeting with the subsequent premier of France came later. Stephen
Lausanne, editor of that powerful journal, _Le Matin_, asked me to lunch
with Bunau-Varilla, the _Matin’s_ owner, a power in French politics. I
was surprised to find present quite a number of people, among whom were
the Belgian financier, Count Aupin, and the heavily moustached,
stoop-shouldered man that headed the French delegation to the Washington
Disarmament Conference. We discussed the future attitude of the United
States toward France, and, when the party was breaking up, Lausanne
detained me.
“Don’t go,” he said: “Briand wants to talk with you.”
Aristide Briand, who had five times been Prime Minister of France, was
then, as always, at the head of a strong political faction. Once the
friend, he had now long been the rival of Clemenceau, could almost at
any moment have overthrown the Clemenceau Cabinet, and was puzzling many
people by his delay in executing such a manœuvre. What he wanted of me
was information concerning a matter that directly affected this
situation.
France’s financial troubles were the stumbling block: The country’s
tax-payers were already overburdened, yet a larger revenue must be
raised. Briand and his friends felt that the man who, as Premier,
attempted to set those troubles right, and who failed in the difficult
endeavour, would not remain Premier for long. They considered leaving
the ungrateful job to Clemenceau, unless they could put through the
Chamber of Deputies their brilliant idea.
They wanted to pay off the French war debt by means of a lottery loan.
There would be daily prizes. They contemplated one as high as a million
francs. And they expected to sell a large proportion of the tickets in
America!
What, they asked, did I think of the plan?
“Gentlemen,” I said, “you are evidently unaware that there is a law
against lotteries in the United States.”
“But this lottery,” said Briand, “would be in France; we would merely
sell tickets in America through the mails.”
“It was precisely by forbidding the use of the mails for such purposes,”
I explained, “that we stopped lotteries. It is a criminal offence to
sell lottery-tickets in the United States or to use our mails for that
purpose.”
I shall never forget the expression of disappointment with which Briand
and Count Aupin greeted this announcement. It meant that their scheme
must be abandoned and that Briand must still longer postpone the
overthrow of Clemenceau.
Much of what was passing behind the scenes at the Conference it would
not be proper for me to tell. Part of that is the story of “The Passing
of the Third-Floor Front,” when the meetings of the American
Commissioners were transferred from Colonel House’s room on the third
floor of the Crillon to Secretary Lansing’s rooms on the first floor.
But there is an anecdote that I do venture to repeat because it throws a
light on the character and careful methods of Lloyd George.
Even the British Premier was keen to gain favour with those close to
President Wilson, and one night he invited to dine with him Admiral Cary
T. Grayson, whom he knew to be not only Mr. Wilson’s physician, but one
of his personal confidants as well. Now, Grayson was a Southerner of the
Southerners; he was born in Virginia’s Culpepper County, and studied at
William and Mary College. Consequently, he pricked up his ears when
Lloyd George’s entire table conversation confined itself to that America
which lies south of Mason-and-Dixon’s line. The Premier showed himself
specially familiar with the career of Stonewall Jackson, for whom he
professed a warm admiration. Finally, the dinner ended, Mr. Lloyd
George’s niece went to the piano, and sang--American Southern melodies!
This was too much for Grayson.
“How is it,” he said, “that you all have such an intimate knowledge of
my part of America?”
Perhaps this direct query took the Premier by surprise. Anyhow, he
confessed:
“Well, you see I have just finished reading Henderson’s ‘Life of
Stonewall Jackson.’”
Grayson’s response was in the good old American fashion:
“My dear sir, no matter what office you run for, you’ll have my vote!”
There was one interlude to my activities in Paris that should be
mentioned if only for the sake of the stir it created back home. This
was my speech at Coblenz, when I told the American soldiers there that
another war impended.
It was in May of 1919 that we took a trip to the occupied territory and
visited Coblenz, Cologne, and Wiesbaden. I remember that we were at
first much impressed by the unbending dignity of the young captain who
was our escort until, one day, we stopped at Treves for lunch. We had
just seated ourselves when a woman’s voice called out:
“Why, hello Pinky!”
We all turned round, but the Captain jumped. He had red hair, and the
woman who greeted him by the nickname that his hair had won him before
he achieved his military dignity was Peggy Shaw, of New York, who soon
showed us her soldiers’ theatre and rest-room in a barn where she served
lemonade out of buckets to the Army of Occupation. Thenceforward, the
Captain was “Pinky” to us all.
At Coblenz we were billeted at the house of Von Grotte, the German
president of the Rhineland provinces, and when I woke that first morning
I could not help thinking of the changes that had taken place in my life
between my birth at Mannheim in 1856 and this day at Coblenz in 1919.
Soon I was seated in the Coblenzer-Hof partaking of a good American
breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, bacon, wheat-cakes and molasses, and no
doubt a better meal than any German had that day, and looking at “Old
Glory” afloat over Ehrenbreitstein. How full historically the interim
had been! How strange to see the American flag above this fortress on
the Rhine, while, below, a bronze statue of William I looked on in
woeful contemplation of the wreckage to his Empire that his grandson had
wrought.
Anxious to learn the true state of mind of the German people, I asked an
American Military Intelligence officer to arrange for me to talk with
some of the leading citizens of Coblenz. He did so at the home of the
best known lawyer of the city, where, besides our host, were a prominent
doctor, the largest local paper manufacturer, an export merchant, and
several others.
It took a couple of bottles of Rhine wine to loosen their tongues.
Finally, one said:
“Here we are in the afternoon of life, each of us a leader in his
calling. We all had accumulated a competency when the war came but some
20 per cent. of this has been taken in taxes, and the remainder is
to-day worth scarcely one fifth of its original value. [A mark was then
worth about five cents.] We have scarcely one sixth of what we formerly
possessed in actual wealth. Instead of yielding us a sufficient annual
income on which to live, our principal now amounts to only three years’
normal income.”
They all said that their business prospects were at an end.
“But surely _your_ profession goes right on,” I protested to the
physician.
“I am as badly off as the others,” he answered, “three of these men are
my best and oldest patients: how can I charge them any more than I did
before the war? Moreover, many of my patients I can’t charge anything at
all.”
As one of the company expressed it, they felt that France wanted to turn
them into galley-slaves: “She has put us into the hold of a ship; the
hatches are battened down, and on them are sitting a lot of politicians
from Paris to make sure that we never get out.”
The manufacturers said that the young men of ability and energy would
not submit to “such slavery.” They would seek other fields of activity,
and eventually drift to a country like Russia, where skilled managers
and intelligence were at a premium.
All the Coblenzers present maintained the belief that the war had been
forced upon their country by the French and the Russians combining to
crush them. I could not convince them that their own war-lords had
brought about the catastrophe, and that the German people, including
even their socialists, were responsible because their representatives in
Parliament voted for the war-credits. They had been told that this was
a war of self-defense, and they believed it. Now that the autocrats and
junkers had been overthrown, they thought that the people should not be
held responsible for the mistakes of the militarists. They felt that
Germany should be permitted to enter the family of nations and given a
chance to recover and pay her debts.
A few days later, I gave a talk to the American soldiers in the Liberty
Hut at Coblenz, to which reference has been made.
“At present,” I said, “we are enjoying only a suspension of hostilities.
Please don’t go home and tell the people that this war is over. We have
got to prepare for a greater conflict, a greater sacrifice, a greater
responsibility. The young men of America will again have to fight. The
manifold and conflicting demands of all nations at the Peace Conference
are impossible of fulfillment. Many delegates to the Conference will
leave Paris with their demands unsatisfied. The nations are going to
have further quarrels and disputes. I believe that within fifteen years
America will be called upon really to save the world.”
“The battle between democracy and anarchy,” I argued, “will continue and
will result in the bankruptcy of the participating nations. It is
necessary for the United States to prepare, so that when a crisis comes,
we shall be able to create a coöperative spirit between our capital and
labour, and thus be so united and so strong that we can save
civilization from annihilation.”
Cabled home, these words attracted some attention, yet the views that
they expressed were not based entirely upon my own observations. I had
talked with General Bliss, the military member of our Peace Commission,
and with other American officers of high rank: they held opinions
similar to mine.
Bliss, on several occasions, told me that he thought we had just ended
the first seven years of another Thirty Years’ War which had begun with
the Balkan conflict of 1912.
Was he right? The answer rests hidden in the years immediately ahead of
us.
Whatever that answer may be, I saw the signing of the Peace Treaty
intended to end the latest war. General Pershing and I sat next to each
other, and I discussed these very matters with him at Versailles on that
momentous 28th of June. The affixing of the signatures was not an
impressive spectacle. There was no enthusiasm, and but little
excitement. People moved about and chatted in subdued voices. Mrs.
Wilson, Mrs. Lansing, and Colonel House sat in the row next to me, and I
talked to Clemenceau, Lloyd George, and Presidents Poincaré and Wilson.
The only solemn moment was that when the Germans walked to the table;
they betrayed mental suffering, and one of them showed the results of
physical hardship: his clothes hung on him so loosely that it was
apparent he must have lost quite forty pounds since they were made.
After the signatures had been affixed, we all walked up to the Treaty
and looked at it, like mourners taking farewell of a corpse--but we were
mourners without tears.
That night the negotiations for the appointment of the memorable Harbord
Commission to Armenia were concluded. In these I had played a
considerable part; their termination marked the end of my semi-official
activities before embarking on my Polish expedition.
Passing mention has been made of the arduous study of the Turkish
question, which our Commissioners had asked me to undertake jointly with
W. H. Buckler. This task brought me again into contact with Mr. Hoover,
because of the relief work of his Commission in Armenia, and, besides
renewing my pleasant relations with Sir Louis Mallet, who had been the
British Ambassador to Constantinople while I was there, it involved,
among a mass of other details, many interviews with the Armenian and
French representatives and the spokesmen of the other interested
parties. The French were determined to have Cilicia; the Armenians would
not consider my advice that they should surrender it, and, by this
concession, win French support for their other ambitions. Buckler,
Professor Philip M. Brown, and I made a report[1] to President Wilson,
recommending a triple mandate: one to cover Armenia, another Anatolia,
and a third the Constantinople district, where the chief administrator
would reside, with an administrator in each of the other territories; we
expressed the opinion that there should be an Armenian parliament in
Armenia and a Turkish parliament in Anatolia, with the probable Turkish
capital at Konia. Thus we would banish the Turk from Europe and limit
him to Anatolia, where, however, he would be permitted to govern
himself. The triple mandate, we recommended, should be assumed by the
United States.
Our report was submitted in the latter part of June. Nevertheless, the
conflicting claims of the French and the Armenians and the woeful
conditions of the districts involved, left something more to be done. I
favoured the appointment of an American Army officer to go to Armenia as
Commissioner for the Allied and Associated Nations, and to protect the
Armenians. I had a high regard for the ability of Major-General Harbord,
General Pershing’s Chief-of-Staff, and thought him exactly the man for
such a post; but I was told that he was not in Paris, and nobody seemed
to know just where he was or when he would return.
At the last moment, fate played into my hands. On Tuesday, June 24th, I
went to a dinner given by Homer H. Johnson to Assistant Secretary of War
Benjamin Crowell, and found General Harbord there. To my great
satisfaction I was seated next to him. This gave us several hours to
discuss the Armenian question, and I urged him to undertake the task.
Next morning he sent me a remarkable letter, which showed his masterly
grasp of the situation, but ended with the statement that he would not
care to accept the Commissionership unless he could have a proper
military staff to aid him.
On Thursday, I had an appointment with the President to discuss the
Polish Mission. We disposed of this very quickly, as I shall tell later
on. I then seized upon the remaining minutes allotted me to present to
the President our proposal of a Commission to Armenia. The President was
profoundly interested and told me that he had but little time left to do
anything in the matter, as the Peace Treaty was to be signed on
Saturday. And he added:
“As you probably know, I shall sail for home that evening, but if you
can come to an agreement with Hoover and let me have what you two
recommend by nine o’clock to-morrow morning, I will try to put it
through.”
I went straight to Hoover’s office from my interview and we drafted a
letter to the President containing the following joint recommendations
to be brought by him to the attention of the Big Four before his
departure:
1. We suggest that a single temporary resident Commissioner should
be appointed to Armenia, who will have the full authority of the
United States, Great Britain, France, and Italy in all their
relations to the de facto Armenian Government, as the joint
representative of these Governments in Armenia. His duties shall be
so far as he may consider necessary to supervise and advise upon
various governmental matters in the whole of Russian and Turkish
Armenia, and to control relief and repatriation questions pending
the determination of the political destiny of this area.
2. In case the various Governments should agree to this plan,
immediate notification should be made to the de facto Governments
of Turkey and of Armenia of his appointment and authority.
Furthermore, he will be appointed to represent the American Relief
Administration and the American Committee for Relief in the Near
East, and take entire charge of all their activities in Russian and
Turkish Armenia.
The ideal man for this position would be General Harbord, as we
assume under all the circumstances it would probably be desirable
to appoint an American. Should General Harbord be unable to
undertake the matter, we are wondering whether you would leave it
to us to select the man in conjunction with General Pershing.
Two days later, the President sailed for America. As he was taking the
Brest train from Paris, he turned to Harbord, who had come to the
station:
“We have passed that matter about you,” he said.
What matter he referred to, Harbord could not guess. There was no time
to inquire of Mr. Wilson, and the General being wholly in the dark, did
not think of inquiring of me. For some days, I was to remain in
ignorance.
On June 30th, though it was dated “June 28th,” there arrived at the
American Peace Commission’s headquarters a cable addressed to Mr.
Wilson--now at sea--which, in the light of future events, bore
signatures that appear rather startling in such a connection. How
differently people act when seeking power than they do when in
authority! The message called “immediate” relief for Armenia “a sacred
duty” and urged upon Woodrow Wilson:
That as a first step in that direction, and without waiting for the
conclusion of peace, either the Allies, or America, or both, should
at once send to Caucasus-Armenia requisite food, munitions and
supplies for fifty thousand men and such other help as they may
require to enable the Armenians to occupy the now-occupied parts of
Armenia within the boundaries defined in the memorandum of the
delegation of integral Armenia.
The first three signatures were those of Charles Evans Hughes, Elihu
Root, and Henry Cabot Lodge! The next was John Sharp Williams. How
strange it would be if Oscar Underwood had been asked and had signed in
his place. We would then have had all four American delegates to the
Disarmament Conference.
Mr. Hoover called on me with a copy of this message in his hands. He
said that Lansing, House, and White wanted us to draft a reply to it.
In the composition of that reply, Hoover’s opinions as to details again
diverged from mine. He continued in his antagonism to an American
Regular Army officer on the active list, as an administrator of Caucasus
relief-work and evinced firm opposition to America taking a mandate. He
argued good-temperedly, but strongly, to win me to his point of view; I
was not convinced, and we at last reached another compromise, settling
on such statements as we could both subscribe to. The reply was dated
July 2nd, and was in part:
Active relief work on a large scale is now in progress in the most
distressed areas of Armenia, but will require much enlarged
support, in view of the expiration of Congressional
appropriations.... Competent observers report that immediate
training and equipment of adequate Armenian forces would be
impracticable and that the repatriation of refugees is feasible
only under protection of British or American troops. British
authorities inform us that they cannot spare troops for this
purpose.... All military advisers agree that the Armenian
population itself, even if furnished arms and supplies, will be
unable to overcome Turkish opposition and surrounding pressure....
To secure ... establishment and protection and undertake the
economic development of the state, such mandatory must, until it
becomes self-supporting, provide not less than $300,000,000. It
would have to be looked upon as a sheer effort to ease humanity.
At about this point, Hoover’s opposition to America assuming a mandate
manifests itself in the message. We agreed that he should add a few
lines, expressly and explicitly on his own responsibility. So the
message, after the joint signature of “Hoover-Morgenthau,” continued:
Mr. Hoover wishes to add on his sole responsibility that he
considers that the only practicable method by which a government in
this region could be made economically self-supporting would be to
embrace in the same mandatory the area of Mesopotamia where there
are very large possibilities of economic development, where there
would be an outlet for the commercial abilities of the Armenians,
and with such an enlarged area it could be hoped in a few years to
build up a State self-supporting, although the intervention of some
dominant foreign race must be continued until the entire population
could be educated to a different basis of moral relations, and that
consequently whatever State is assigned the mandatory for
Mesopotamia should at the same time take up the burden of Armenia.
When that portion of the message was suggested, I said to Mr. Hoover:
“The inclusion of Mesopotamia in the proposition would absolutely
destroy all chances of America taking the mandate.”
“Well,” said Hoover, “I wouldn’t object if that was the effect of it.”
The “effect” has now long since passed into history.
Mandate or no mandate, the matter of a commission to Armenia suffered no
retarding except in the detail of personnel. I was still in the dark
about what President Wilson had done regarding it, but an odd chance
soon enlightened me.
It was after one o’clock when I rushed from Hoover’s office to 23 Rue
Minot to attend a luncheon given by the Hon. Arthur J. Balfour. At the
table were Lord d’Abernon who, as Sir Edgar Vincent, had been manager of
the Imperial Ottoman Bank at Constantinople, and now is British
Ambassador in Berlin; Sir Maurice Hankey and his wife; and Mr.
Balfour’s niece. We at once plunged into a discussion of Turkish
affairs. Mr. Balfour said he favoured the United States taking a mandate
over the Constantinople district and Armenia, but not over Anatolia. A
general discussion of the economic difficulties followed, and I outlined
the plan of a triple mandate that I had submitted to the President, and
went so far as to hope that it might lead to a Balkan federation. Then,
to our great surprise, Sir Maurice turned to Mr. Balfour:
“Why, Mr. Balfour,” he said, “don’t you know that the Hoover-Morgenthau
plan for a resident commission in the Caucasus was acted upon by the Big
Four on Saturday at Versailles just after the signing of the Peace
Treaty? They passed it in principle and referred it to you to work out
the details. It is on your desk now on top of that pile of papers with a
red slip on it.”
We now beheld Balfour in one of his well-known attitudes, when he
slightly raises his eyebrows, drops his right shoulder, and looks at you
with a smile that almost talks. He then said to me: “You see how Lloyd
George does things. This information that Hankey has given us is
absolutely as new to me as it is to you.”
Sir Maurice offered to stay over and help Balfour arrange the details.
The latter said that it would not be necessary, but asked me to request
Mr. Lansing to do his part toward putting the affair into shape.
Harbord was still unwilling to go without the assistance of a military
staff, for which he had originally stipulated. President Wilson had left
word that in such an event, Hoover and I were to name a substitute.
Hoover suggested Colonel William N. Haskell, who had represented the
American Relief Commission in Roumania; and as Haskell was to also
represent the Near East Relief, of which I was then vice-chairman, I
assented to his selection in both capacities, and Haskell set out for
Armenia shortly thereafter.
That appointment, I felt, would help to take care of the relief phase of
the situation, but there was left the need of a report of a strictly
army man on the military side of the Armenian matter before the question
of America assuming the proposed mandate could be thoroughly answered.
Harbord was, therefore, doubly welcome when, within a few days, he came
to me with a suggestion:
“Don’t you think,” he asked, “it would be advisable that either Pershing
or myself, or both, be sent to investigate and report on the conditions
in the Trans-Caucasus, because the question of an American mandatory in
Turkey promises almost immediately to become urgent, and we should know
military conditions there before the Government acts in the matter.”
As this completely coincided with my views, I immediately consulted
Hoover, and we jointly sent a wireless to President Wilson, which
elicited a prompt approval of the idea, and the order that it be left to
Pershing to decide who should make the trip.
The Harbord Mission and its very able report on Armenia resulted.
Complete impartiality, and a total lack of prejudice, were shown by the
manner in which he ended his report. He stated thirteen reasons for the
United States adopting a mandate and thirteen reasons against it, and
they were placed in parallel columns, so that everyone who read them
could come to his own conclusions, and with General Harbord’s permission
I am including them here.
Reasons For
1. As one of the chief contributors to the formation of the League of
Nations, the United States is morally bound to accept the obligations
and responsibilities of a mandatory power.
2. The insurance of world peace at the world’s cross-ways, the focus of
war infection since the beginning of history.
3. The Near East presents the greatest humanitarian opportunity of the
age--a duty for which the United States is better fitted than any
other--as witness Cuba, Porto Rico, Philippines, Hawaii, Panama, and our
altruistic policy of developing peoples rather than material resources
alone.
4. America is practically the unanimous choice and fervent hope of all
the peoples involved.
5. America is already spending millions to save starving peoples in
Turkey and Transcaucasia and could do this with much more efficiency if
in control. Whoever becomes mandatory for these regions we shall be
still expected to finance their relief, and will probably eventually
furnish the capital for material development.
6. America is the only hope of the Armenians. They consider but one
other nation, Great Britain, which they fear would sacrifice their
interests to Moslem public opinion as long as she controls hundreds of
millions of that faith. Others fear Britain’s imperialistic policy and
her habit of staying where she hoists her flag.
For a mandatory America is not only the first choice of all the peoples
of the Near East, but of each of the great powers, after itself.
American power is adequate; its record clean; its motives above
suspicion.
7. The mandatory would be self-supporting after an initial period of not
to exceed five years. The building of railroads would offer
opportunities to our capital. There would be great trade advantages not
only in the mandatory region, but in the proximity to Russia, Roumania,
etc.
America would clean this hot-bed of disease and filth as she has in Cuba
and Panama.
8. Intervention would be a liberal education for our people in world
politics; give outlet to a vast amount of spirit and energy and would
furnish a shining example.
9. It would definitely stop further massacres of Armenians and other
Christians, give justice to the Turks, Kurds, Greeks and other peoples.
10. It would increase the strength and prestige of the United States
abroad and inspire interest at home in the regeneration of the Near
East.
11. America has strong sentimental interests in the region; our missions
and colleges.
12. If the United States does not take responsibility in this region, it
is likely that international jealousies will result in a continuance of
the unspeakable misrule of the Turk.
13. “And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel, thy brother? And he
said: ‘I know not; am I my brother’s keeper?’”
Better millions for a mandate than billions for future wars.
Reasons Against
1. The United States has prior and nearer foreign obligations, and ample
responsibilities with domestic problems growing out of the war.
2. This region has been a battle ground of militarism and imperialism
for centuries. There is every likelihood that ambitious nations will
still maneuver for its control. It would weaken our position relative to
the Monroe Doctrine and probably eventually involve us with a
reconstituted Russia. The taking of a mandate in this region would bring
the United States into politics of the Old World, contrary to our
traditional policy of keeping free of affairs in the Eastern Hemisphere.
3. Humanitarianism should begin at home. There is a sufficient number of
difficult situations which call for our action within the
well-recognized spheres of American influence.
4. The United States has in no way contributed to and is not responsible
for the conditions, political, social, or economic, that prevail in this
region. It will be entirely consistent to decline the invitation.
5. American philanthropy and charity are world wide. Such policy would
commit us to a policy of meddling or draw upon our philanthropy to the
point of exhaustion.
6. Other powers, particularly Great Britain and Russia, have shown
continued interest in the welfare of Armenia. Great Britain is fitted by
experience and government, has great resources in money and trained
personnel, and though she might not be as sympathetic to Armenian
aspirations, her rule would guarantee security and justice.
The United States is not capable of sustaining a continuity of foreign
policy. One Congress can not bind another. Even treaties can be
nullified by cutting off appropriations. Non-partisanship is difficult
to attain in our Government.
7. Our country would be put to great expense, involving probably an
increase of the Army and Navy. Large numbers of Americans would serve in
a country of loathsome and dangerous diseases. It is questionable if
railroads could for many years pay interest on investments in their very
difficult construction. Capital for railways would not go there except
on Government guaranty.
The effort and money spent would get us more trade in nearer lands than
we could hope for in Russia and Roumania.
Proximity and competition would increase the possibility of our becoming
involved in conflict with the policies and ambitions of states which now
our friends would be made our rivals.
8. Our spirit and energy can find scope in domestic enterprises, or in
lands south and west of ours. Intervention in the Near East would rob us
of the strategic advantage enjoyed through the Atlantic which rolls
between us and probable foes. Our reputation for fair dealing might be
impaired. Efficient supervision of a mandate at such distance would be
difficult or impossible. We do not need or wish further education in
world politics.
9. Peace and justice would be equally assured under any other of the
great powers.
10. It would weaken and dissipate our strength which should be reserved
for future responsibilities on the American continents and in the Far
East. Our line of communication to Constantinople would be at the mercy
of other naval powers, and especially of Great Britain, with Gibraltar
and Malta, etc., on the route.
11. These institutions have been respected even by the Turks throughout
the war and the massacres; and sympathy and respect would be shown by
any other mandatory.
12. The Peace Conference has definitely informed the Turkish Government
that it may expect to go under a mandate. It is not conceivable that the
League of Nations would permit further uncontrolled rule by that
thoroughly discredited government.
13. The first duty of America is to its own people and its nearer
neighbours.
Our country would be involved in this adventure for at least a
generation and in counting the cost Congress must be prepared to advance
some such sums, less such amount as the Turkish and Transcaucasian
revenues could afford, for the first five years.
The Harbord Commission constituted itself attorney for both sides to the
controversy, and expected the people of America to act as the jury to
determine this question.
My own opinion as to the duties of the United States toward Turkey is
elaborately outlined in an article on “Mandates or War?” which I
contributed to the New York _Times_ on November 9, 1919, and which
appears in the appendix of this volume, and I hope that those of my
readers who are really interested in this problem will take the trouble
to read it.