THE PATH TO PEACE
The armistice of November 11, 1918, resulted directly from the military
defeat of German armies in France, following upon the collapse of Turkey,
Bulgaria, and Austria-Hungary. But there were many circumstances other
than military that led to Germany's downfall, and by no means of least
importance were the moral issues so constantly stressed by Wilson. His
speeches had been carefully distributed through the Central Empires; they
had done much to arouse the subject peoples of Austria-Hungary to revolt
for their freedom, and also to weaken the morale of the German people. The
value of Wilson's "verbiage drives" was questioned in this country.
Abroad, his insistence upon a peace of justice was generally reckoned a
vital moral force in the political movements that supplemented the
victories of Marshal Foch. Jugoslavs consented to coöperate with their
Italian enemies because they felt that "Wilson's justice" would guarantee
a fair court for their aspirations in the Adriatic; Magyars and Austrians
threw down their arms in the belief that his promise to "be as just to
enemies as to friends" secured a better future than they could hope for
through the continuance of the war; the leaders of the German Reichstag
demanded the Kaiser's abdication in November, under the impression that
Wilson had laid it down as a condition of peace.
From the time when the United States entered the war it was obvious that
Wilson placed less emphasis upon defeating Germany than upon securing a
just peace. Military victory meant nothing to him except as the road to
peace. In his first war speeches the President, much to the irritation of
many Americans, insisted that the United States was fighting the
government and not the people of Germany. "We have no quarrel," he said,
"with the German people. We have no feeling towards them but one of
sympathy and friendship." In his Flag Day address he was careful not to
attack "Germany" but only "the military masters under whom Germany is
bleeding." Certain effects of this attitude were to be seen in the
Reichstag revolt of July, 1917, led by that most sensitive of political
weathercocks, Matthias Erzberger, which was designed to take political
control out of the hands of the military clique. That crisis, however,
was safely survived by Ludendorff, who remained supreme. President Wilson
then returned to the attack in his reply to the Pope's peace proposals of
August. "The object of this war is to deliver the free peoples of the
world from the menace and the actual power of a vast military
establishment controlled by an irresponsible government.... This power is
not the German people. It is the ruthless master of the German people....
We cannot take the word of the present rulers of Germany as a guarantee
of anything that is to endure, unless explicitly supported by such
conclusive evidence of the will and purpose of the German people
themselves as the other peoples of the world would be justified in
accepting."
There was serpentine wisdom in these words, for their very vagueness
attracted German liberals. Wilson did not demand a republic; he did not
insist upon the Kaiser's abdication, for which Germany was not then
prepared; all that he asked was a government responsible to the people,
and more and more the Germans were demanding that themselves.
Furthermore, he again laid stress upon the fact that the Germans need not
fear vengeance such as the Allies had threatened. "Punitive damages, the
dismemberment of empires, the establishment of selfish and exclusive
economic leagues, we deem inexpedient." The appeal was fruitless in its
immediate effects, for the political party leaders were still dominated
by the military; but ultimately, in conjunction with a dozen other
appeals, its influence acted like a subtle corrosive upon the German will
to conquer.
Still less successful were the attempts to win Austria away from her ally
by secret diplomatic conversations. In these neither President Wilson nor
his personal adviser, Colonel House, placed great confidence. They had
been undertaken by the French through Prince Sixtus of Bourbon, and in
August, 1917, Major Armand of France discussed with the Austrian emissary,
Revertata, possible means of bringing about peace between Austria and the
Allies. Lloyd George enthusiastically approved this attempt to drive a
wedge between Austria and Germany, was anxious to send Lord Reading as
intermediary, and, upon the refusal of the latter to undertake the
mission, actually dispatched General Smuts to Switzerland. The Emperor
Carl seemed sincerely anxious to make sacrifices for peace and was urged
by liberal counselors, such as Förster and Lammasch, in whom the Allies
had confidence, to meet many of the demands of his discontented Slav
subjects by granting autonomy to the Czechs, Poles, and Jugoslavs.
Negotiations were hampered by the belief of the Italians that immediate
peace with Austria would prevent them from securing the territories they
coveted; by the sullen obstinacy of the Magyars, who were jealous of their
mastery over the Hungarian Slavs, and above all, as Colonel House had
foreseen, by Austria's fear of Germany. In fact it was a stern ultimatum
sent by Ludendorff that brought the wavering Carl back to his allegiance.
In the autumn of 1917, however, talk of peace was in the air and a
definite demand for its consideration was made in a noteworthy speech by
Lord Lansdowne, a Conservative leader in England. Negotiations were
inaugurated between Germany and the new Bolshevik Government of Russia,
and for a few weeks at the beginning of the new year the war-weary world
seemed close to the possibility of a general understanding. For the first
time Lloyd George outlined in specific language the main terms that would
be considered by the Allies. It was President Wilson's opportunity.
Careless of securing an overwhelming military victory, indeed unwilling to
crush Germany, anxious to pledge the Entente to his programme in this
moment of their discouragement, he formulated on January 8, 1918, his
Fourteen Points, upon which he declared the final peace settlement should
be based. His speech was at once an appeal to the liberals and
peace-hungry of the Central Empires, a warning to the military clique in
Germany then preparing to enforce degrading terms upon Russia, and a
notification to the Allies that the United States could not be counted
upon to fight for selfish national interests. He reiterated the principles
which had actuated the United States when it entered the war: "What we
demand in this war, therefore, is nothing peculiar to ourselves. It is
that the world be made fit and safe to live in; and particularly that it
be made safe for every peace-loving nation which, like our own, wishes to
live its own life, determine its own institutions, be assured of justice
and fair dealing by the other peoples of the world as against force and
selfish aggression. All the peoples of the world are in effect partners in
this interest, and for our own part we see very clearly that unless
justice be done to others it will not be done to us."
Of the Fourteen Points into which he then divided his peace programme,
the first five were general in nature. The first insisted upon open
diplomacy, to begin with the approaching Peace Conference: "Open
covenants of peace, openly arrived at, after which there shall be no
private international understandings of any kind." Next came "absolute
freedom of navigation upon the seas ... alike in peace and in war." Then
"the removal, so far as possible, of all economic barriers and the
establishment of an equality of trade conditions among all the nations
consenting to the peace." There followed a demand for the reduction of
armaments "to the lowest point consistent with domestic safety." The
fifth point called for an "impartial adjustment of all colonial claims,
based upon ... the interests of the populations concerned" as well as
"the equitable claims of the government whose title is to be determined."
These generalizations were not so much God-given tables which must
determine the international law of the future as they were subtle
inducements to cease fighting; they were idealistic in tone, but
intensely practical in purpose. They guaranteed to any Germans who
wanted peace that there would be protection against British "navalism,"
against the threatened Allied economic boycott, as well as a chance of
the return of the conquered colonies. The force of their seductiveness
was proved, when, many months later, in October, 1918, defeated Germany
grasped at them as a drowning man at a straw. At the same time Wilson
offered to liberals the world over the hope of ending the old-style
secret diplomacy, and to business men and labor the termination of the
system of competitive armaments, with their economic and moral waste. No
one would suggest that Wilson did not believe in the idealism of these
first five points; no one should forget, however, that they were
carefully drafted with the political situation of the moment definitely
in view. They might be construed as a charter for future international
relations, but they were designed primarily to serve as a diplomatic
weapon for the present.
Each of the succeeding eight points was more special in character, and
dealt with the territorial and political problems of the warring states.
They provided for the evacuation and restoration of all conquered
territories in Europe, including Russia, Belgium, France, and the Balkan
States. The sovereignty of Belgium should be unlimited in future; the
"wrong done to France by Prussia in 1871 in the matter of Alsace-Lorraine
... should be righted"; Italian frontiers should be readjusted "along
clearly recognizable lines of nationality"; the peoples of Austria-Hungary
"should be accorded the freest opportunity of autonomous development"; the
relations of the Balkan States should be determined "along historically
established lines of allegiance and nationality"; nationalities under
Turkish rule should receive opportunity for security of life and
autonomous development, and the Dardanelles should be permanently opened
to all nations under international guarantees; an independent Polish state
should be erected to "include the territories inhabited by indisputably
Polish populations, which should be assured a free and secure access to
the sea."
Generally speaking these stipulations seemed to guarantee the moderate
war aims of the Entente and corresponded closely to the demands made by
Lloyd George; they certainly repudiated the extreme purposes attributed
to German imperialists. And yet these eight points were so vague and
capable of such diverse interpretation that, like the first five general
points, they might prove not unattractive to liberals in Germany and
Austria. France was not definitely promised Alsace-Lorraine; any hint at
the dismemberment of Austria-Hungary was carefully avoided; the
readjustment of Italian frontiers might mean much or little. What were
"historically established lines of allegiance and nationality" in the
Balkans? And if Poland were to include only populations "indisputably
Polish," was it possible to assure them "free and secure access to the
sea"? The political advantage in such generalities was obvious. But there
was also great danger. The time might come when both belligerent camps
would accept the Fourteen Points and would still be uncertain of their
meaning and application. The struggle for definite interpretation would
be the real test. The President's fourteenth and last point, however, was
unmistakable and expressed the ideal nearest his heart: "A general
association of nations must be formed under specific covenants for the
purpose of affording mutual guarantees of political independence and
territorial integrity to great and small states alike."
Later events have magnified the significance of this notable speech of
the 8th of January. It was a striking bid for peace, which indeed was not
far away and it ultimately formed the general basis of the peace terms
actually drafted. But it contained nothing new. Its definition of the
conditions of peace was vague; its formulation of principles followed
exactly along the lines developed by President Wilson ever since he had
adopted the idea of a League of Nations founded upon international
justice. His summing up of the main principle underlying his whole policy
was merely the echo of his speeches for the past twelve-month: "The
principle of justice to all peoples and nationalities, and their right to
live on equal terms of liberty and safety with one another, whether they
be strong or weak." The importance of the speech does not lie in its
novelty but in its timeliness. It came at a moment when the world was
anxiously listening and the undeniable idealism of its content assured to
President Wilson, at least temporarily, the moral leadership of mankind.
Unfortunately as the event proved, it promised more than could ever be
secured by any single man. The President was to pay the price for his
leadership later when he encountered the full force of the reaction.
As a step toward immediate peace the speech of the Fourteen Points
failed. What might have been the result had von Hertling, Chancellor of
Germany, and Czernin, in Austria, possessed full powers, it is difficult
to say. But the military masters of Germany could not resist the
temptation which the surrender of Russia brought before their eyes. By
securing the eastern front and releasing prisoners as well as troops
there, they would be able to establish a crushing superiority in the
west; France would be annihilated before the American armies could count,
if indeed they were ever raised. Hence the heavy terms of Brest-Litovsk
and Bucharest and the preparations for the great drive of March. As
Wilson said, "The tragical circumstance is that this one party in Germany
is apparently willing and able to send millions of men to their death to
prevent what all the world now sees to be just." Thus Germany lost her
last chance to emerge from the war uncrushed.
The ruthless policy followed by Ludendorff and his associates gave the
President new opportunities to appeal to the peoples of the Central
Empires. He incorporated in his speeches the phrases of the German
Socialists. "Self-Determination" and "No annexations and no indemnities"
were phrases that had been made in Germany before Russia imported them;
and when they formed the text of presidential addresses, many Germans,
despite themselves, doubtless felt a twinge of sympathy. Coupled with
these appeals went the President's warnings that if they persisted in
tying up their fortunes with those of their rulers, they must share the
penalties. If Germany insisted upon making force alone the deciding
element, then he must accept the challenge and abide the issue. "There
is, therefore, but one response possible from us: Force, Force to the
utmost, Force without stint or limit, the righteous and triumphant Force
which shall make Right the law of the world and cast every selfish
dominion down in the dust." Neither the appeals nor the warnings of
Wilson had any effect apparent at the moment, and yet the seed was sown.
During the victorious German drives of March, April, and May, opinion to
the east of the Rhine seemed to have rallied firmly behind the Teuton
Government; but with the first slight setbacks of the following month the
process of crumbling began. An American economist and banker, Henry C.
Emery, then prisoner in Germany, tells of the pessimism prevalent as
early as June and the whispers of the approaching fall of the Kaiser. In
his memoirs Ludendorff lays the failure of the German armies in August to
the complete breakdown of the national spirit.
The end came with extraordinary speed. Already in September, after the
defection of Bulgaria and the startling success of Foch's converging
movement on Sedan, Germany knew that she was defeated. The Berlin
Government turned to Wilson and on the 5th of October requested an
armistice. At the same time Austria-Hungary made a similar request
offering to negotiate on the basis of the Fourteen Points. Wilson's
position was delicate. He knew in September that the end was near and
prepared for the situation in some degree by sending Colonel House abroad
to be ready to discuss armistice terms with the Allies. But the sudden
character of the German collapse had intoxicated public opinion to such
an extent that the political idealism which he had voiced ran the risk of
becoming swamped. If Germany were indeed helpless and the Allies
triumphant, there was the danger that, in the flush of victory, all the
promises of a just peace would be forgotten. He must provide against such
a contingency. On the other hand he must secure guarantees that Germany
had indeed thrown off her militaristic cloak, as Prince Max of Baden, the
new Chancellor, insisted; and also that under cover of an armistice she
might not effect a withdrawal of her defeated armies, only to renew the
struggle under more favorable conditions on her own borders. He was
caught between the danger of German fraud and Allied exuberance.
There ensued a month of negotiations, during which the military victory of
the Allies was further assured, as described in the preceding pages. The
German Government was first asked by Wilson if it accepted the Fourteen
Points and the similar stipulations made by the President in subsequent
addresses. Replying in the affirmative, Prince Max then promised to
acquiesce in armistice terms that would leave the military situation
unchanged, and further agreed to order a cessation of unrestricted
submarine warfare and of the wanton destruction caused by the German
armies in their retreat. Finally he declared in answer to Wilson's demand,
that the request for an armistice and peace came from a government "which
is free from any arbitrary and irresponsible influence, and is supported
by the approval of an overwhelming majority of the German people." The
President then formally transmitted the correspondence to the Allies, and
Colonel House entered upon discussions to establish with them the
understanding that the basis of the peace negotiations would be the
Wilsonian programme. He was successful; and the Fourteen Points, with
reservation of the second, "Freedom of the seas," were accepted by the
Allied governments. The Allies, on the other hand, secured President
Wilson's approval of the principle that "compensation will be made by
Germany for all damage done to the civilian population of the Allies and
their property by the aggression of Germany by land, by sea, and from the
air." Upon this understanding the details of the armistice were left to
the military leaders. The terms as fixed reflected the military situation
on the fighting front and the political situation in Germany and placed
Germany entirely in the power of the victors without possibility of
renewing the war. The conditions laid down were so stringent that until
the last moment a refusal by the German delegates seemed imminent; but on
the 11th of November, just before the expiration of the time limit allowed
them, they accepted the inevitable.
It is a mistake to regard the armistice as forced upon the Allies by
President Wilson. Many persons abroad, as in this country, felt, it is
true, that it was wrong to permit the peaceful withdrawal of the German
armies, even though the full military advantages of victory were secured
by the armistice conditions; the Allies ought, they argued, to impress
on the Germans the magnitude of their defeat on the field of battle, and
this could not be done so long as German soil had been free from warfare.
General Pershing was strongly opposed to the granting of an armistice.
The Allied chiefs knew, however, that although the continuation of the
fighting would lead to the surrender of a great German force, every day
would cost the victorious armies a heavy toll of killed and wounded, and
the advantage to be gained thereby was at least questionable. This fact
was emphasized even by Marshal Foch. They hesitated, certainly, to accept
the Fourteen Points as the basis for peace, for they feared lest the
interpretation put upon them at the Peace Conference might rob them of
what they believed to be the just fruits of victory. In both France and
England there was, it is true, a body of liberal opinion which would not
brook open repudiation of the ideals that Wilson had sponsored during the
war and to which Allied ministers had themselves paid tribute. In each
country there was another group demanding a "peace of annihilation," with
the payment of all war costs by the defeated, but Lloyd George and
Clemenceau feared at the moment to raise this issue. Both England and
France were dependent upon American assistance for the immediate future
as they had been during the war. They needed American food, raw
materials, and money. A break with Wilson, who for the moment was the
popular hero of Europe, taken in conjunction with an economic crisis,
might be the signal for domestic disturbances if not revolution.
Thus with Germany helpless and the Allies at least outwardly accepting
his peace programme, Woodrow Wilson seemed to be master of the situation.
And yet his power was more apparent than real. Apart from that moral
influence which he exercised over the European liberals and which among
some of the working classes was so extreme that candles were burnt before
his picture, but which also was inevitably unstable and evanescent,
Wilson's power rested upon the fact that he was President of the United
States. But the nation was no longer united behind him or his policy, if
indeed it had ever been so. That hatred and distrust which had marked the
electoral campaign of 1916, and which, stifled for the moment by entrance
into the war, had flamed out early in 1918 in the attack upon his war
administration, now in the autumn threatened an explosion of popular
disapprobation in some parts of the country. Men had long whispered
"autocrat" but had generally been silenced during the war by the
admonition not to weaken the government by factious criticism. Now they
began to shout it from the house-tops. Because of his inability to grasp
the importance of either tact or tactics, the President made the way of
his opponents easy for them.
Shortly before the Congressional elections of November, at the moment
when he felt the need of national support in order to strengthen his
position with the Allies, the President was prevailed upon to issue an
appeal to the electors, asking them to vote for Democratic candidates on
the ground that the nation ought to have unified leadership in the coming
moment of crisis, and that a Republican Congress would divide the
leadership. There was nothing novel in such an appeal; in 1898, McKinley
had begged for a Republican Congress on the ground that "this is no time
for divided councils," the same ground as that taken by Wilson in 1918.
Roosevelt in the same year (1898) had said: "Remember that whether you
will or not your votes this year will be viewed by the nations of Europe
from one standpoint only.... A refusal to sustain the President this year
will, in their eyes, be read as a refusal to sustain the war and to
sustain the efforts of the peace commission." Wilson's appeal in 1918 was
merely an echo of Roosevelt's in 1898. Yet it was a mistake in tactics.
It enabled the Republicans to assert that, whereas they had sunk partisan
differences during the war in order to secure the victory of the nation,
Wilson was now capitalizing the war and foreign problems to win a
partisan advantage. The result of the elections was Republican success,
assuring to that party a slight majority in the Senate and a goodly
majority in the House after March 4, 1919.
The President made other tactical mistakes. Instead of taking the Senate
into his confidence by entering upon numerous conferences with its
leaders, he stood upon the letter of the Constitution and gave the clear
impression that he would conduct the peace negotiations himself without
Senatorial assistance, leaving the Senators merely their constitutional
privilege of "advice and consent" when a treaty should be laid before
them. He would have done better to remember a remarkable passage in one of
his own lectures, delivered ten years before. Speaking of the difficulty
of bringing pressure to bear upon the Senate, he had said that there is a
"course which the President may follow, and which one or two Presidents
of unusual political sagacity have followed, with the satisfactory
results that were to have been expected. He may himself be less stiff and
offish, may himself act in the true spirit of the Constitution and
establish intimate relations of confidence with the Senate on his own
initiative, not carrying his plans to completion and then laying them in
final form before the Senate to be accepted or rejected, but keeping
himself in confidential communication with the leaders of the Senate while
his plans are in course, when their advice will be of service to him and
his information of the greatest service to them, in order that there may
be veritable counsel and a real accommodation of views, instead of a final
challenge and contest." Had Wilson in 1918, and after, followed his own
advice, the outcome might have been different. But nothing describes so
perfectly the exact opposite of his attitude as the passage quoted above.
The President might at least have assuaged the sense of injury that
rankled in the hearts of the Senators by asking for their advice in the
appointment of the Peace Commission. Instead he kept his own counsel. He
decided to go to Paris himself as head of the Commission, and chose for
his associates men who were not qualified to win for him the support
that he needed in the Senate or in the country. Robert Lansing, as
Secretary of State, was a necessary appointment. Colonel House was
probably the best-fitted man in America for the approaching negotiations,
alike by his temperament, by the breadth of his knowledge of foreign
questions, and by his intimacy with foreign statesmen. But at least two
places on the Commission should have been given to eminent Republicans
and to men universally known and respected. If Wilson was unwilling to
select members of the Senate, he might have heeded public opinion which
called definitely for William Howard Taft and Elihu Root. Both were
pledged to the most important item of Wilson's programme, the League of
Nations; both exercised wide influence in the country and in the
Republican party. The Senate, with a Republican majority, would almost
certainly ratify any treaty which they had signed. But the President, for
reasons of a purely negative character, passed them over and with what
looked to the public like mere carelessness, chose General Tasker Howard
Bliss and Henry White, formerly Ambassador to Rome and Paris under
Presidents Roosevelt and Taft. Both were men of ability and experience,
but neither enjoyed the particular confidence of the American people;
and what Americans chiefly wanted was the assurance of persons they knew
and trusted, that the peace was right. In the existing state of public
opinion, the assurance of the President was not in itself sufficient.
President Wilson's decision to go to Paris as a member of the Commission
aroused still fiercer opposition, but had reasons infinitely more cogent.
He knew that there would be great difficulty in translating his ideals
into fact at the Peace Conference. He believed that he could count upon
the support of liberal opinion in Europe, but realized that the leading
politicians had not yet been won sincerely to his policy. The pledge they
had given to accept the Fourteen Points might mean much or little;
everything depended upon interpretation. A peace of justice and a League
of Nations still hung in the balance. At this moment, with Germany clearly
helpless, opinion abroad appeared to be tending, naturally enough, toward
the old-style division of the spoils among the victors. More than one
influential French and British newspaper began to sound the cry _Væ
victis_. Moreover, in America broke forth a chorus of encouragement to the
Allies to pay no attention to Wilsonian idealism. On the 27th of
November, shortly before the Commission sailed, Roosevelt wrote: "Our
Allies and our enemies and Mr. Wilson himself should all understand that
Mr. Wilson has no authority whatever to speak for the American people at
this time. His leadership has just been emphatically repudiated by
them.... Mr. Wilson and his Fourteen Points and his four supplementary
points and his five complementary points and all his utterances every
which way have ceased to have any shadow of right to be accepted as
expressive of the will of the American people.... Let them [the Allies]
impose their common will on the nations responsible for the hideous
disaster which has almost wrecked mankind." It was frank encouragement to
the Allies, coming from the American who, with Wilson, was best-known
abroad, to divide the spoils and to disregard all promises to introduce a
new international order, and it must have brought joy to Clemenceau and
Sonnino.
Wilson feared that having won the war the United States might lose the
peace: not by softness towards Germany--as yet there was no danger of
that--but by forgetting the ideals for which it had entered the war, by
forgetting that a peace of injustice sows the seeds of the next war, and
by a relapse into the old bankrupt system of the Balance of Power. He
realized that the peoples of France, England, and Italy had felt the
pinch of war as the American people had never done, and that it was
demanding too much of human nature to expect that their attitude would be
one of moderation. He knew that in the negotiations Clemenceau and
Sonnino would be definitely opposed to his programme and that he could
not count upon Lloyd George. He decided therefore that he must himself go
to Paris to fight for his ideals. The decision was one of tremendous
significance. At the moment when domestic problems of reconstruction
would be most acute, an American President was going to leave the country
because of the interest of America in European affairs. The United States
was now so much a part of the world system that domestic issues seemed of
less importance than the danger that Europe might fall back into the old
international system which had proved unable to keep the peace. The
President's voyage to France was the clearest manifestation yet
vouchsafed of the settled position of the United States as a world power.
If the justice of his policy and the necessity of full participation in
the peace as in the war be admitted, Wilson was probably right in going
to Paris. No one else could have secured so much of his programme. No
one else was possessed of the political power or the personal prestige
which belonged to him. The history of the Conference was to show that
when he absented himself in February and after he left Paris in June, his
subordinates found great difficulty in meeting Allied opposition. But the
decision of the President to attend the Peace Conference furnished fresh
material for criticism at home. It was a new thing in our history; people
did not understand the importance of the issues involved and attributed
his voyage to vanity. Unquestionably it weakened Wilson in America as
much as it strengthened him abroad. When on the 4th of December, the
presidential ship, _George Washington_, sailed out of New York harbor,
saluted by the wild shrieks of a thousand sirens and the showers of
glittering white papers streaming from the windows of the skyscrapers,
preceded by the battleship _Pennsylvania_, flanked by destroyers, with
acrobatic airplanes and a stately dirigible overhead, external enthusiasm
was apparently at its height. But Wilson left behind him glowing embers
of intense opposition which, during the next six months, were to be
fanned into a dangerous flame.