THE SUBMARINE
Early in the winter of 1914-1915 President Wilson apparently foresaw
something of the complications likely to arise from the measures and
counter-measures taken by the belligerents to secure control of overseas
commerce, and sent his personal adviser, Colonel House, across the
Atlantic to study the possibilities of reaching a _modus vivendi_. There
was no man so well qualified for the mission. Edward Mandell House was a
Texan by birth, but a cosmopolitan by nature. His hobby was practical
politics; his avocation the study of history and government. His
catholicity of taste is indicated by the nature of his library, which
includes numerous volumes not merely on the social sciences but also on
philosophy and poetry. His intellectual background was thus no less
favorable than his political for the post which he assumed as Wilson's
personal adviser. Disqualified by physical delicacy from entering the
political arena himself and consistently refusing office, he had for
years controlled the political stage in his own State; in 1912,
exercising strong influence in the national party organization, he had
done much to crystallize sentiment in favor of Wilson as presidential
candidate. Slight in stature, quiet in manner and voice, disliking
personal publicity, with an almost uncanny instinct for divining the
motives that actuate men, he possessed that which Wilson lacked--the
capacity to "mix," to meet his fellow mortals, no matter what their
estate, on a common ground.
Courteous and engaging, Colonel House was an unexcelled negotiator: he
had a genius for compromise, as perfect a control of his emotions as of
his facial expression, and a pacific magnetism that soothed into
reasonableness the most heated interlocutor. His range of acquaintance in
the United States was unparalleled. Abroad, previous to the war, he had
discussed international relations with the Kaiser and the chief statesmen
of France and England. His experience of American politics and knowledge
of foreign affairs, whether derived from men or from books, were matched
by an almost unerring penetration in the analysis of a political
situation, domestic or European. As a liberal idealist and pacifist, he
saw eye to eye with Wilson; his sense of political actualities, however,
was infinitely more keen.
But even the skill of Colonel House was not sufficient to induce Germany
to hold her hand, and, as spring advanced, it became increasingly clear
that she was resolved to carry her threats of unrestricted submarine
warfare into effect. The quality of Wilson's pacifism was about to be put
to the test. In March a British steamer, the _Falaba_, was sunk and an
American citizen drowned; some weeks later an American boat, the
_Cushing_, was attacked by a German airplane; and on the 1st of May,
another American steamer, the _Gulflight_, was sunk by a submarine with
the loss of two American lives. When was Wilson going to translate into
action his summary warning of "strict accountability?" Even as the
question was asked, we heard that the Germans had sunk the _Lusitania_.
On the 7th of May, 1915, at two in the afternoon, the pride of the
British merchant marine was struck by two torpedoes fired from a German
submarine. She sank in half an hour. More than eleven hundred of her
passengers and crew were drowned, among them one hundred and twenty-four
Americans, men, women, and children.
The cry that went up from America was one of anguish, but still more one
of rage. This attack upon non-combatant travelers, citizens of a neutral
state, had been callously premeditated and ruthlessly executed in cold
blood. The German Government had given frigid warning, in a newspaper
advertisement, of its intention to affront the custom of nations and the
laws of humanity. A wave of the bitterest anti-German feeling swept down
the Atlantic coast and out to the Mississippi; for the first time there
became apparent a definite trend of opinion demanding the entrance of the
United States into the war on the side of the Entente. On that day Wilson
might have won a declaration of war, so strong was popular sentiment; and
despite the comparative indifference of the Missouri valley and the Far
West, he might have aroused enthusiasm if not unity.
But a declaration of war then would, in all probability, have been a
mistake. Entrance into the war at that time would have been based upon
neither judgment nor ideals, but merely upon emotion. The American people
were in no way prepared to bring material aid to the cause of justice,
nor did the nation yet appreciate the moral issues involved. It would
have been a war of revenge for American lives lost. The President was by
temperament disinclined to listen to the passionate demands for
intervention, and, as historian, he must have had in mind the error
committed by McKinley when he permitted the declaration of war on Spain,
after the sinking of the _Maine_ in 1898. Sober afterthought has
generally agreed that Wilson was right. But he was himself led into a
serious error that produced consequences which were not soon to be
dissipated. Speaking three days after the event, when the world looked to
him to express the soul of America, and dealing with the spirit of
Americanism, he permitted an unfortunate phrase to enter his address and
to cloud his purpose. "There is such a thing," he said, "as a man being
too proud to fight." The phrase was by no means essential to the main
points of his address; it was preceded by one of greater importance,
namely that "the example of America must be a special example ... of
peace because peace is the healing and elevating influence of the world
and strife is not." It was followed by another of equal importance, that
a nation may be so much in the right "that it does not need to convince
others by force that it is right." These two phrases expressed what was
in the President's mind clearly and definitely: the United States was
consecrated to ideals which could not be carried into effect through
force, unless every other method dictated by supreme patience had failed.
But the world did not notice them. All that it remembered was that the
United States was "too proud to fight." What did this mean to the average
man except that the country was afraid to fight? The peoples of the
Entente powers were contemptuous; Germans were reassured; Americans were
humiliated.
Wilson the phrase-maker was betrayed by a phrase, and it was to pursue him
like a Fury. The chorus of indignation and shame aroused by this phrase
covered completely the determination and skill with which he entered upon
the diplomatic struggle with Germany. His purpose was definite. He had
gone on record in February that the United States Government would protect
the rights of American citizens, and he was bound to secure from Germany a
promise that merchant ships should not be torpedoed without warning or
assuring the lives of crew and passengers. And yet by virtue of his
pacific principles this promise could not be forcibly extracted until
every other possible method had been attempted in vain. Unquestionably he
was supported in his policy by many, perhaps most, thoughtful people,
although wherever support was given him in the East it was generally
grudging. Such a representative and judicial mind as that of ex-President
Taft favored cool consideration and careful action. But the difficulties
encountered by the President were tremendous. On the one hand he met the
bitter denunciations of the group, constantly increasing in numbers, which
demanded our immediate intervention on the side of the Entente. Led by
Roosevelt, who no longer felt as in the previous September, that the
United States had no immediate interest in the war, this group included
influential men of business and many writers. They had lost patience with
Wilson's patience. His policy was, in their opinion, that of a coward. On
the other hand, Wilson was assailed by pro-Germans and die-hard pacifists;
the former believed that the British blockade justified Germany's
submarine warfare; the latter were afraid even of strong language in
diplomatic notes, lest it lead to war. At the very outset of the
diplomatic controversy with Germany, before the second _Lusitania_ note
was dispatched, the Secretary of State, William Jennings Bryan, resigned,
in the belief that the President's tone was too peremptory. For Bryan was
willing to arbitrate even Germany's right to drown American citizens on
the high seas. The defection of this influential politician a year
previous would have weakened Wilson seriously, but by now the President
had won secure control of the party. He was, indeed, strengthened
diplomatically by Bryan's resignation, as the latter, in a conversation
with the Austrian Ambassador, had given the impression that American
protests need not be taken over-seriously. His continuance in office might
have encouraged German leaders to adopt a bolder tone.
From the very beginning of his attempts to obtain from Germany a disavowal
for the sinking of the _Lusitania_ and a promise not to sink without
warning, the President took his stand upon high ground. Not merely did he
insist upon the rights guaranteed to neutrals by the law of nations; he
took the controversy out of the class of ordinary subjects of diplomatic
discussion and contended "for nothing less high and sacred than the rights
of humanity." To this he recurred in each of his notes. Germany avoided
the issue. At first she insisted that the _Lusitania_ was armed, carrying
explosives of war, transporting troops from Canada, and thus virtually
acting as a naval auxiliary. After the falsity of this assertion was
shown, she adduced the restrictions placed by Great Britain on neutral
trade as excuse for submarine operations, and contended that the
circumstances of naval warfare in the twentieth century had so changed
that the principles of international law no longer held good.
Each time Wilson returned to his point that the "rights of neutrals are
based upon principle, not upon expediency, and the principles are
immutable. Illegal and inhuman acts ... are manifestly indefensible when
they deprive neutrals of their acknowledged rights, particularly when
they violate the right to life itself. If a belligerent cannot retaliate
against an enemy without injuring the lives of neutrals, as well as their
property, humanity, as well as justice and a due regard for the dignity
of neutral powers should dictate that the practice be discontinued."
Wilson terminated his third note to Germany with a warning, which had the
tone, if not the form, of an ultimatum: there must be a scrupulous
observance of neutral rights in this critical matter, as repetition of
"acts in contravention of those rights must be regarded by the Government
of the United States, when they affect American citizens, as deliberately
unfriendly."
The exchange of notes consumed much time and proved a severe test for
American patience. The first _Lusitania_ note was sent on the 13th of
May and it was not until the 1st of September that the German Government
finally gave a pledge that was acceptable to Wilson. In the meantime
there had been continued sinkings, or attempts to sink, in clear
violation of the principles for which the President was contending. The
_Nebraskan_, the _Armenian_, the _Orduna_, were subjected to submarine
attacks. On the 19th of August the _Arabic_ was sunk and two Americans
lost. The ridicule heaped upon the President by the British and certain
sections of the American press, for his writing of diplomatic notes, was
only equaled by the sense of humiliation experienced by pro-Entente
elements in this country. _Punch_ issued a cartoon in which Uncle Sam
pointed to Wilson as having outstripped the record made by Job for
patience. Nevertheless Wilson obtained the main point for which he was
striving. On September 1, 1915, the German Government gave the definite
pledge that "Liners will not be sunk by our submarines without warning
and without safety of the lives of non-combatants, provided that the
liners do not try to escape or offer resistance." Wilson had sought to
safeguard a principle by compelling from Germany a written acknowledgment
of its validity. So much he had won and without the exercise of force.
Even those whose nerves were most overwrought by the long-drawn-out
negotiations, admitted that it was a diplomatic victory.
The victory was not clean-cut, for Germany had not yet disavowed the
sinking of the _Lusitania_, nor did the category "liners" seem to include
all merchant vessels. How real was even the partial victory remained to
be seen. Within three days of the German pledge the _Hesperian_ was sunk
and an American citizen drowned. On the 7th of November the _Ancona_ was
torpedoed in the Mediterranean by an Austrian submarine with the loss of
more American lives. It is true that after each case a disavowal was made
and a renewal of promises vouchsafed. But it seemed obvious that Germany
was merely playing for time and also that she counted upon pro-German and
pacifist agitation in this country. For a brief period it appeared as if
her hopes were not to be entirely disappointed. British merchant vessels,
following long-established custom, had for some months been armed for
purposes of defense. The German Government on February 10, 1916,
announced that henceforward such armed merchantmen would be regarded as
auxiliary cruisers and would be sunk without warning. It was unfortunate
that Robert Lansing, who had succeeded Bryan as Secretary of State, had
proposed on January 18, 1916, to the diplomatic representatives of the
Allied forces that they cease the arming of merchantmen as a means of
securing from Germany a pledge which would cover all merchantmen as well
as passenger liners; this proposal gave to Germany a new opportunity for
raising the issue of the submarine. But either Lansing's proposal had
been made without Mr. Wilson's sanction or the President changed his
mind, since on the 10th of February Wilson declared that he intended to
recognize the right of merchantmen to arm for purposes of defense. Once
more he insisted that the rules of war could not be changed during war
for the advantage of one side.
His declaration led at once to something like a revolt of Congress.
Already some of those who especially feared intervention had been
suffering from an attack of panic as a result of Wilson's recent decision
to support the preparedness movement. They were further terrified by the
possibility that some American citizen traveling on an armed merchantman
might lose his life and that the demand for entrance into the war might
thus become irresistible. Bryanites, pro-German propagandists, and Irish
combined against the President, and were reinforced by all the
discontented elements who hoped to break Wilson's control of the
Democratic party. The combination seemed like a new cave of Adullam.
Resolutions were introduced in the Senate by Thomas P. Gore and in the
House by Jeff McLemore, based upon suggestions made by Bryan nine months
before, that American citizens should be warned not to travel on armed
merchant vessels. Senator Stone, of the Foreign Relations Committee,
supported these resolutions and it appeared probable that Germany would
find her strongest support in the American Congress.
Wilson struck sharply. Not merely his leadership of the party and the
country was at stake, but also that moral leadership of neutral nations
and the world toward which the struggle with Germany was to take him.
Refusing to receive Senator Stone, he sent him a letter in which the
cardinal points of his position were underlined. "Once accept a single
abatement of right," he insisted, "and many other humiliations would
certainly follow, and the whole fine fabric of international law might
crumble under our hands piece by piece. What we are now contending for in
this matter is the very essence of the things that have made America a
sovereign nation. She cannot yield them without conceding her own
impotency as a Nation and making virtual surrender of her independent
position among the nations of the world." This definite enunciation was
in effect an appeal to the American people, which came as a relief to
those who had suffered from presidential patience under German outrages.
The storm of public feeling aroused against the rebellious Congressmen
was such that Wilson's victory became assured. Demanding concrete
justification of his stand, he insisted that the resolutions be put to
the vote. The issue was somewhat confused in the Senate so that the vote
was not decisive; but in the House the McLemore resolution was defeated
by a vote of 276 to 142.
And yet the submarine issue was not finally closed. Less than a month
after the rights of American citizens were thus maintained, the British
passenger steamer _Sussex_, crossing the English Channel, was torpedoed
without warning. It was the clearest violation of the pledge given by the
German Government the previous September. Once again Wilson acted without
precipitancy. He waited until the Germans should present explanations
and thereafter took more than a week in which to formulate his decision.
Finally, on April 19, 1916, he called the two houses of Congress in joint
session to lay before them his note to Germany. Unlike his _Lusitania_
notes, this was a definite ultimatum, clearly warranted by the undeniable
fact that Germany had broken a solemn pledge. After recounting the long
list of events which had so sorely tried American patience, Wilson
concluded that "unless the Imperial German Government should now
immediately declare and effect an abandonment of its present methods of
warfare against passenger and freight carrying vessels this Government
can have no choice but to sever diplomatic relations with the Government
of the German Empire altogether." The force of the ultimatum was
emphasized by the general tone of the note, in which, as in the
_Lusitania_ notes, the President spoke not so much for the legal rights
of the United States, as in behalf of the moral rights of all humanity.
He stressed the "principles of humanity as embodied in the law of
nations," and excoriated the "inhumanity of submarine warfare"; he
terminated by stating that the United States would contemplate a
diplomatic break with reluctance, but would feel constrained to take the
step "in behalf of humanity and the rights of neutral nations." This note
of emphasis upon America's duty to mankind rather than to herself formed
the main theme of a speech delivered two days previous: "America will
have forgotten her traditions whenever upon any occasion she fights
merely for herself under such circumstances as will show that she has
forgotten to fight for all mankind. And the only excuse that America can
ever have for the assertion of her physical force is that she asserts it
in behalf of the interests of humanity."
Germany yielded before Wilson's ultimatum, though with bad grace, and
promised that no more merchant ships would be sunk "without warning and
without saving human lives." But she also tried to make her promise
conditional upon the cessation by Great Britain of methods of warfare
which Germany called illegal, implying that her pledge might be withdrawn
at her pleasure: "the German Government ... must reserve itself complete
liberty of action." This condition Wilson, in taking note of Germany's
pledge, definitely waved aside: "the Government of the United States
notifies the Imperial Government that it cannot for a moment entertain,
much less discuss, a suggestion that respect by German naval authorities
for the rights of American citizens upon the high seas should in any way
or in the slightest degree be made contingent upon the conduct of any
other government affecting the rights of neutrals and non-combatants.
Responsibility in such matters is single, not joint; absolute, not
relative." By its silence the German Government seemed to acquiesce and
the crisis was over. The country had been close to war, but intervention
might yet be avoided if Germany kept her word. That, however, was a
condition upon which people were learning not to rely.
It is obvious that by the early summer of 1916 President Wilson's
attitude on foreign affairs had undergone a notable transformation from
that parochial spirit of 1914 which had led him to declare that the war
was no concern of America; he had given over completely the tradition
that if we keep our own hands clean we fulfill our duty. He had begun to
elaborate an idealistic policy of service to the world, not unreminiscent
of the altruistic schemes of Clay and Webster for assisting oppressed
republicans in Europe during the first third of the nineteenth century.
Wilson, like those statesmen, had always felt that the position of the
United States in the world was of a special sort, quite different from
that of the European states, and circumstances were forcing him to take
the stand that the nation must assume the lead in the world in order to
ensure the operation of the principles that Americans believe in. "We are
in some sort and by the force of circumstances the responsible spokesman
of the rights of humanity." He still opposed active intervention in the
war; the mission of the United States was a higher one than could
adequately be fulfilled through war; the kind of service we could best
give was not fighting. Yet he was brought to admit, even before the
_Sussex_ crisis (February 26, 1916), that in the last instance war might
be necessary if the American people were to assume the rôle of champion
of liberty in the world at large, as they had championed it in the
Americas; for the rights of humanity must be made secure against menace:
"America ought to keep out of this war ... at the expense of everything
except this single thing upon which her character and history are
founded, her sense of humanity and justice.... Valor withholds itself
from all small implications and entanglements and waits for the great
opportunity, when the sword will flash as if it carried the light of
heaven upon its blade." Thus the possibility of ultimate force was
implied. Eighteen months previous, peace had been for Wilson an end in
itself. Now it was subordinated to the greater end implied in maintaining
the principle of justice in the world.
During this period popular sentiment also underwent a notable
development. Americans reacted sharply to German threats and outrages,
and were thrown off their comfortable balance by the events which touched
American honor and safety so closely. Like Wilson, they were shaken out
of that sense of isolation which enveloped them in 1914, and they were
thus prepared for the reception of broader ideals. The process of
education was slow and difficult. It was hampered by the confusion of
foreign issues. Propagandists took advantage of the controversy with
Great Britain in order to obscure the principles upon which the
discussions with Germany were based. The increasing stringency of British
control of commerce and the blacklisting of various American firms by the
British authorities resulted in numerous American protests and to some
warmth of feeling. Wilson was no particular friend of the British, but he
rightly insisted upon the distinction between the dispute with Germany,
which involved the common right of humanity to life, and that with Great
Britain, which involved merely rights of property. Nevertheless that
distinction was blurred in the minds of many Americans, and their
perception of the new ideals of foreign policy was necessarily confused.
The education of the American people to the significance of the issue was
also hampered by the material change that came over the country during
the latter part of 1915 and the spring of 1916. The influx of gold and
the ease with which fortunes were accumulated could not but have
widespread effects. The European war came at a moment when the United
States was passing through a period of comparatively hard times.
Stringency was naturally increased by the liquidation of foreign
investments in 1914 and the closing of European markets to American
commerce. Business was dull. But this condition was rapidly altered
through the placing of large contracts by the Entente Governments and the
most extensive buying by foreign purchasers. New markets were found among
the neutral states, which were unable to buy in Europe. Naturally there
developed a rapid extension of industrial activities. New manufacturing
concerns grew up, large and small, as a result of these adventitious
conditions, which paid enormous returns. Activities upon the stock market
were unparalleled. New and sudden fortunes were made; millionaires
became common. The whole world was debtor to America and a golden stream
flowed across the Atlantic. Prices rose rapidly and wages followed.
Inevitably materialism conquered, at least for the moment. The demand for
luxuries was only equaled by the craze for entertainment. Artisans and
shopgirls invaded the jewelry stores of Fifth Avenue. Metropolitan life
was a succession of luncheons and teas, where fertile brains were busied
with the invention of new dancing steps rather than the issues of the
European war. Cabarets were crowded and seats for midnight beauty shows
must be secured well in advance or by means of gargantuan tips to
plutocratic head waiters. Much of the materialism was simply external. In
every town American women by the thousand gave lavishly of their time and
strength to knit and roll bandages for the fighters and wounded overseas.
America was collecting millions for the relief of Belgium, Serbia, and
for the Red Cross. The American Ambulance in France was served by men
imbued with the spirit of sacrifice. Thousands of American youths
enlisted in the Canadian forces. The general atmosphere of the country,
however, was heavy with amusement and money-making. Not yet did America
fully realize that the war was a struggle of ideals which must concern
every one closely. In such an atmosphere the idealistic policy of Wilson
was not easily understood.
The President himself cannot escape a large share of the blame for
America's blindness to the issue. During the first twelve months of the
war, when the country looked to him for leadership, he had, purposely or
otherwise, fostered the forces of pacifism and encouraged the advocates
of national isolation. He had underlined the separation of the United
States from everything that went on in Europe and insisted that in the
issues of the war the American people had no interest. In deference to
the spirit of pacifism that engrossed the Middle West, he had opposed the
movement for military preparedness. When, late in 1915, Wilson changed
his attitude and attempted to arouse the country to a sense of American
interest in world affairs and to the need of preparing to accept
responsibility, he encountered the opposition of forces which he himself
had helped to vitalize.
Popular education, especially upon the Atlantic coast, was further
hampered by the personal irritation which the President aroused. Disliked
when inaugurated, he had attracted bitter enmity among the business men
who dominate opinion in New England and the Eastern States. They accused
him of truckling to labor. They were wearied by his idealism, which
seemed to them all words and no deeds. They regarded his handling of
foreign affairs, whether in the Mexican or submarine crises, as weak and
vacillating. He was, in Rooseveltian nomenclature, a "pussyfooter." Hence
grew up the tradition, which was destined to endure among many elements
of opinion, that everything advocated by Wilson must, simply by reason of
its authorship, be essentially wrong. The men of Boston, New York, and
Philadelphia were beginning to give over their attitude of isolation and
admit with Roosevelt that the United States ought to stand with the
Entente. The Wilsonian doctrine of service to the world, however, was not
to their taste, partly because they did not like Wilson.
It was to the rural districts of the upper Mississippi and to the South
that the President looked most eagerly for support of his new policy.
These were the regions where indifference to and ignorance of foreign
affairs had been most conspicuous, but they were also the regions where
the President's personal influence was strongest; finally they were the
districts where extreme pacifism was most deeply embedded. If Wilson's
championship of the rights of liberty throughout the world could be
accomplished by pacific methods, they would follow him; but if it meant
war, no one could guarantee what their attitude might be. Bryan was
popular in those parts. As yet Wilson, while he had formulated his policy
in broad terms, had not indicated the methods or mechanism by which his
principles were to be put into operation. He would without question
encounter strong opposition among the German-Americans; he would find the
attitude of the Irish foes of the Entente hostile; he would find the
Pacific coast more interested in Japanese immigration than in the ideals
of the European war. Fortunately events were to unify the heterogeneous
elements of the country, at least for the moment, in a way that
simplified greatly the President's problem. Not the least of the unifying
forces was to be found in German psychology, which led the Imperial
Government to believe that the United States could be rendered helpless
through the intrigues of German spies.