BALANCE OF POWER OR LEAGUE OF NATIONS?
Whatever mistakes President Wilson made at Paris, he did not greatly
underestimate the difficulties of his task when he set forth from the
United States. The liberal utterances of the Allied chiefs during the war
had never succeeded in winning his sincere confidence; more than once he
had even intimated that he did not consider their governments completely
representative of public opinion. He anticipated a struggle with
Clemenceau and Lloyd George over the amount of indemnity which was to be
demanded from Germany, as well as over the territory of which she was to
be deprived. Their formal approval of the Fourteen Points had been a cause
of intense satisfaction to him, but he realized definitely that they would
make every effort to interpret them in terms of purely national
self-interest. This he regarded as the greatest difficulty to be met at
Paris. The second difficulty lay in the extreme demands that were being
made by the smaller nationalities, now liberated from Teuton dominion or
overlordship. Poland, Rumania, Serbia, Greece, were all asking for
territory which could only be assigned to them on the ancient principle of
the division of spoils among the victors. The spirit of nationalism which
had played a rôle of so much importance in the antecedents of the war, as
well as in the downfall of the Central Empires, now threatened to ruin the
peace. As we have seen, it was partly because of this second danger that
Wilson agreed to the exclusion of the smaller states from the Supreme
Council of the Allies.
Upon the details of the treaties, whether of an economic or a territorial
character, the President did not at first lay great stress. He was
interested chiefly in the spirit that lay behind the treaties. The peace,
he insisted, must be one of justice and, if possible, one of
reconciliation. More concretely, the great point of importance was the
establishment of a League of Nations; for the President believed that
only through the building up of a new international system, based upon
the concert of all democratic states, could permanent justice and amity
be secured. Only a new system could suffice to prevent the injustice
that great states work upon small, and to stamp out the germs of future
war. It would be the single specific factor that would make this treaty
different from and better than treaties of the past. The ultimate origin
of the great war was less to be sought in the aspirations and malevolence
of Germany, he believed, than in the disorganized international system of
Europe. Unless that were radically reformed, unless a régime of
diplomatic coöperation were substituted for the Balance of Power, neither
justice nor peace could last. The old system had failed too often.
Wilson does not seem to have formulated definitely before he reached
Paris the kind of League which he desired to see created. He was opposed
to such intricate machinery as that proposed by the League to Enforce
Peace, and favored an extremely simple organization which might evolve
naturally to meet conditions of the future. The chief organ of a League,
he felt, should be an executive council, possibly composed of the
ambassadors to some small neutral power. If trouble threatened in any
quarter, the council was to interfere at once and propose a settlement.
If this proved unsuccessful, a commercial boycott might be instituted
against the offending state: it was to be outlawed, and, as Wilson said,
"outlaws are not popular now." He regarded it as important that the
German colonies should not be divided among the Allies, but should be
given to the League, to be administered possibly through some smaller
power; for an institution, he felt, is always stabilized by the
possession of property.
Such were, broadly speaking, the ideas which seemed uppermost in the
President's mind when he landed in France, and which he was determined
should form the basis of the peace. He anticipated opposition, and he was
in a measure prepared to fight for his ideals. But he failed adequately
to appreciate the confusion which had fallen upon Europe, after four
years and more of war, and which made the need of a speedy settlement so
imperative. If he had gauged more accurately the difficulties of his task
he would have been more insistent upon the drafting of a quick
preliminary peace, embodying merely general articles, and leaving all the
details of the settlement to be worked out by experts at their leisure.
He might thus have utilized his popularity and influence when it was at
its height, and have avoided the loss of prestige which inevitably
followed upon the discussion of specific issues, when he was compelled
to take a stand opposed to the national aspirations of the various
states. Such a general preliminary treaty would have gone far towards
restoring a basis for the resumption of normal political and economic
activity; it would have permitted Wilson to return to the United States
as the unquestioned leader of the world; it would have blunted the edge
of senatorial opposition; and finally it might have enabled him to avoid
the controversies with Allied leaders which compelled him to surrender
much of his original programme in a series of compromises.
It is only fair to Wilson to remember that his original plan, in
November, was to secure such a preliminary treaty, which was to embody
merely the general lines of a territorial settlement and the disarmament
of the enemy. The delays which postponed the treaty were not entirely his
fault. Arriving in France on the 13th of December, he expected that the
Conference would convene on the seventeenth, the date originally set. But
days passed and neither the French nor the British took steps toward the
opening of negotiations. They had not even appointed their delegates.
Lloyd George sent messages of welcome from across the Channel, but
explained that domestic affairs detained him in England. Conscious of the
struggle that was likely to arise between the "practical" aspirations of
Europe and the "idealism" of America, the Allied leaders evidently were
in no hurry to give to the exponent of the ideal the advantage of the
popular support that he enjoyed during the early days following his
arrival upon European shores. Hence it was not until the second week of
January that the delegations began to assemble at Paris. In the interval
Wilson had become involved in various detailed problems and he had lost
the opportunity, if indeed it ever offered, to demand immediate agreement
on preliminary terms of peace.
Notwithstanding the delays, the President secured an early triumph in the
matter which he had closest at heart, namely, a League of Nations and its
incorporation in the Treaty. Clemenceau had taken issue publicly with
Wilson. When the President, in the course of his English speeches,
affirmed that this was the first necessity of a world which had seen the
system of alliances fail too often, the French Premier replied in the
Chamber of Deputies, on the 29th of December, that for his part he held
to the old principle of alliances which had saved France in the past and
must save her in the future, and that his sense of the practical would
not be affected by the "_noble candeur_" of President Wilson. The polite
sneer that underlay the latter phrase aroused the wrath of the more
radical deputies, but the Chamber gave Clemenceau an overwhelming vote of
confidence as he thus threw down the gage. In the meantime Lloyd George
had shown himself apparently indifferent to the League and much more
interested in what were beginning to be called the "practical issues."
With the opening of the Conference, however, it soon became apparent that
Wilson had secured the support of the British delegates. It is possible
that a trade had been tacitly consummated. Certain it is that the
"freedom of the seas," which the British delegates were determined should
not enter into the issues of the Peace Conference and which had
threatened to make the chief difficulty between British and Americans,
was never openly discussed. Had Wilson decided to drop or postpone this
most indefinite of his Fourteen Points, on the understanding that the
British would give their support to the League? At all events, the League
of Nations was given an important place on the programme of
deliberations, and at the second of the plenary sessions of the
Conference, held on January 25, 1919, the principle of a League was
approved without a dissentient voice; it was also decided that the
League should be made an integral part of the Treaty. Wilson, in addition
to acquiring British support had won that of the Italians, to whom he had
promised his aid in securing the Brenner frontier in the Tyrol.
Clemenceau, according to an American delegate, "had climbed on the
band-wagon."
The President's victory was emphasized when he also won the Europeans and
the representatives of the British overseas Dominions to acceptance of
the principle of "mandatories," according to which the German colonies
were not to be distributed as spoils amongst the victors, but to become
the property of the League and to be administered by the mandatory
states, not for their own benefit but for that of the colonies. The
victory was not complete, since Wilson's first intention had been that
the mandatory states should not be the great powers, but such states as
Holland or one of the Scandinavian nations. He was compelled to admit the
right of the British and French to take over the colonies as mandatories.
Even so, the struggle over the issue was intense, Premier Hughes of
Australia leading the demand that the German colonies should be given
outright to the Allies and the British self-governing Dominions. Again
the support of Lloyd George brought success to the American policy.
In order to assure his victory in the foundation of a League of Nations,
it was necessary that before returning home Wilson should see some
definite scheme elaborated. Until the 14th of February he labored with
the special committee appointed to draft a specific plan, which included
much of the best political talent of the world: Lord Robert Cecil,
General Smuts, Venizelos, Léon Bourgeois. In order to avoid the criticism
that consideration of a League was delaying the preparation of peace
terms, the commission met in the evenings so as not to interrupt the
regular meetings of the Council of Ten. It was a _tour de force_, this
elaboration of a charter for the new international order, in less than
three weeks. At times the task seemed hopeless as one deadlock after
another developed. Wilson, who presided over the commission, lacked the
skill and courage displayed by Clemenceau in his conduct of the plenary
sessions, and proved unable to prevent fruitless discussion; possibly he
feared lest he be regarded as autocratic in pushing his pet plan. At all
events precious moments were dissipated in long speeches, and general
principles threatened to be lost in a maze of details. With but two days
left before the plenary session of the Conference and the date set for
Wilson's sailing, the commission had approved only six of the
twenty-seven articles of the Covenant. Fortune intervened. The presence
of Wilson was demanded at the Council of Ten and his place as chairman
was taken by Lord Robert Cecil. The latter showed himself effective. Ably
seconded by Colonel House, he passed over all details and pushed the
final stages of the report through at top speed; on the 14th of February
the Covenant of the League was completed. It was sanctioned by the
plenary session of the Conference that afternoon, and in the evening
Wilson left for America with the document in his pocket. Doubtless it
seemed to him that the major portion of his task had been accomplished.
The mechanism of the League thus proposed is said to have been largely
evolved by Smuts and Cecil, but it coincided roughly with the ideas that
Wilson had already conceived. Much of the language of the Covenant is
Wilson's; its form was mainly determined by the British and American
legal experts, C. J. B. Hurst and D. H. Miller. It provided for an
executive council representing nine powers, and a deliberative assembly
of all the members of the League. The Council must meet annually and
take under advisement any matters threatening to disturb international
peace. Its recommendations must be unanimous. The Assembly was entirely
without executive power. The members of the League were to agree not to
make war without first submitting the matter under dispute to arbitration
or to the consideration of the Council. Failure to abide by this
agreement would constitute an act of war against the League, which upon
recommendation of the Council, might boycott the offending state
economically or exercise military force against it. The Covenant declared
it "to be the friendly right of each Member of the League to bring to the
attention of the Assembly or of the Council any circumstance whatever
affecting international relations which threatens to disturb
international peace or the good understanding between nations upon which
peace depends." The members of the League, furthermore, undertook "to
respect and preserve as against external aggression the territorial
integrity and existing independence of all members of the League. In case
of any such aggression the Council shall advise upon the means by which
this obligation shall be fulfilled" (Article X). These two provisions
embodied the particular contributions of Wilson to the Covenant, who
believed that the capacity of the League to preserve justice and peace
depended chiefly upon them. The Covenant also provided in some measure
for military and naval disarmament by giving to the Council the right to
recommend the size of the force to be maintained by each member of the
League, and it attacked secret diplomacy by abrogating previous
obligations inconsistent with the Covenant and by providing that every
future treaty must be registered and published.
If the President expected to be hailed at home as conquering hero, he was
destined to bitter disappointment. He must now pay the price for those
tactical mistakes which had aroused opinion against him in the previous
autumn. The elements which he had antagonized by his war-policies, by his
demand for a Democratic Congress, by his failure to coöperate with the
Senate in the formulation of American policy and in the appointment of
the Peace Commission, and which had opposed his departure in person to
Paris--all those elements now had their chance. Having won a difficult
victory over reactionary forces in Europe, Wilson was now compelled to
begin the struggle over again at home. And whereas at Paris he had
displayed some skill in negotiation and an attitude of conciliation even
when firm in his principles, upon his return he adopted a tone which
showed that he had failed to gauge the temper of the people. He probably
had behind him the majority of the independent thinkers, even many who
disliked him personally but who appreciated the importance and the value
of the task he was trying to carry through. The mass of the people,
however, understood little of what was going on at Paris. The situation
abroad was complex and it had not been clarified adequately by the press.
Opinion needed to be educated. It wanted to know why a League was
necessary and whether its elaboration was postponing peace and the return
of the doughboys. Why must the League be incorporated in the Treaty? And
did the League put the United States at the mercy of European politicians
and would it involve our country in a series of European wars in which we
had no interest?
What followed must be counted as little less than a tragedy. The man of
academic antecedents with masterly powers of exposition, who had voiced
popular thought during the years of the war so admirably, now failed
completely as an educator of opinion. The President might have shown that
the League Covenant, instead of postponing peace, was really essential to
a settlement, since it was to facilitate solutions of various territorial
problems which might otherwise hold the Conference in debate for months.
He could have demonstrated with a dramatic vigor which the facts made
possible, the anarchical condition of Europe and the need for some sort of
international system of coöperation if a new cataclysm was to be avoided,
and he might have pictured the inevitable repercussive effect of such a
cataclysm upon America. He might have shown that in order to give effect
to the terms of the Treaty, it was necessary that the League Covenant
should be included within it. He could have emphasized the fact that the
Covenant took from Congress no constitutional powers, that the Council of
the League, on which the United States was represented, must be unanimous
before taking action, and then could only make recommendations. But the
President failed to explain the situation in terms comprehensible to the
average man. However adequate his addresses seemed to those who understood
the situation abroad, they left the American public cold. His final speech
in the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City was especially
unfortunate, for his statement that he would bring back the Treaty and the
League so intertwined that no one could separate them sounded like a
threat. At the moment when he needed the most enthusiastic support to curb
the opposition of the Senate, he alienated thousands and lost the chance
to convince tens of thousands.
These developments did not pass unnoticed in Europe. Clemenceau and Lloyd
George had yielded to Wilson during the first weeks of the Conference
because they could not afford to separate their fortunes from the United
States, upon whom they depended for economic support, and because an open
break with Wilson would weaken their own position with liberals in France
and England. But now it became apparent to them that Wilson's position at
home was so unstable that they might be justified in adopting a stronger
tone. Each of them could point to the tangible evidence of victorious
elections and votes of confidence. President Wilson could not. The party
in the Senate which, after the 4th of March, would hold the majority,
expressly repudiated Wilson's policy. When the President returned to
Paris, on the 14th of March, he found a different atmosphere. The League
was no longer the central topic of discussion. Concrete questions were
uppermost. How much should Germany pay? What territory should be taken
from her? How was the Kaiser to be punished? Wilson had been given the
satisfaction of securing approval for the principle of the League. Now he
must permit the Conference to satisfy the practical aspirations of
France, England, and Italy.
It is a tribute to the personality of Wilson that by his presence at this
critical juncture, when the attitude of the Allies differed but slightly,
if at all, from that of the powers at the Congress of Vienna, he was able
to bring back something of the spirit of justice which had been so
frequently and loudly declaimed before the armistice, and to repress at
least in some degree the excessive claims which demanded satisfaction in
the treaties. The plans which, during his absence, had been evolved for
the separation of the Covenant from the Treaty and for its postponement,
and which had received the hearty support of several French and British
diplomats, were quickly dropped. Wilson was able to announce without
contradiction, that the Covenant would be an integral part of the Treaty,
as decided on the 25th of January. Far more difficult was the situation
that resulted from French and British plans for indemnities from Germany,
and from the French territorial claims on the Rhine. In each of these
matters Wilson could secure nothing better than a compromise.
From the day when peace dawned upon Europe, the question that had touched
Allied peoples most closely was, How much will Germany pay? It was not so
much the shout of the brutal victor greedy for loot, as the involuntary
cry of nations which had seen their homes and factories pulverized, their
ships sunk, the flower of their youth killed and maimed, and which now
faced years of crushing taxation. They had carried the load of war
gallantly and they would enter the struggle for recuperation courageously.
But they would not endure that the enemy, which had forced these miseries
upon them, should not make good the material damage that had been done.
What was the meaning of the word justice, if the innocent victors were to
emerge from the war with keener sufferings and more gloomy future than the
guilty defeated? Another question stirred the mind of every Frenchman. For
generations the eastern frontier of France had lain open to the invasion
of the Teuton hordes. The memory of Prussian brutality in 1814 had been
kept alive in every school; the horrors of 1870 had been told and retold
by participants and eye-witnesses; and the world had seen the German
crimes of 1914. From all France the cry went up, How long? It would be the
most criminal stupidity if advantage were not taken of the momentary
helplessness of the inevitable enemy in order to make that vulnerable
frontier secure. This was not the end. Some day the struggle would be
renewed. Already, within two months of the armistice, the French General
Staff were considering mobilization plans for the next war. France must be
made safe while she had the chance.
These feelings had such a hold on the people that the statesmen of Europe
would have been over-thrown on the day they forgot them. Popular
sentiment was reënforced by practical considerations less justifiable.
Crushing indemnities would not merely ease the load of Allied taxation
and furnish capital for rapid commercial development; they would also
remove Germany as an economic competitor. French control of all territory
west of the Rhine would not only assure France against the danger of
another German invasion, but would also provide her capitalists with a
preponderating economic advantage in regions by no means French in
character. Such selfish interests the Americans strove to set aside,
although they never forgot their desire to secure as complete justice
for the Allies as seemed compatible with a stable and tranquil
settlement.
In the matter of indemnities, or reparations as they came to be called,
the experts of the various powers soon established the fact that Germany
would be unable to pay the total bill of reparation, even at the most
conservative reckoning. There was a long discussion as to whether or not
the costs of war, aside from material damage done, that had been incurred
by the Allies, should be included in the amount that Germany was to pay.
It was finally determined, in accordance with the arguments of the
American financial delegates who were warmly supported by President
Wilson, that such war costs should be excluded. On the other hand it was
agreed that pensions might properly be made part of Germany's reparation
bill. The two items of damages and pensions were calculated by the
American experts as amounting to a total figure of not less than
$30,000,000,000 present capital sum, which Germany ought to pay.
The next step was to determine how much Germany could be made to pay. By
drafting too severe terms German trade might be destroyed completely and
Germany left without the economic capacity to make the money that was to
pay the bill. It was obvious to careful students that the total amount
which she could turn over to the Allies could not be much more than the
excess of her exports over imports; and that even if payments were
extended over twenty or thirty years their value for purposes of
reparation would probably not much exceed twenty-five billion dollars.
Lloyd George in his election pledges had promised that the complete
reparations account would be settled by the enemy; neither he nor
Clemenceau dared to confess that the sum which could be exacted from
Germany would fall far below their early promises. The British experts,
Sumner and Cunliffe, continued to encourage Lloyd George in his belief
that Germany could afford to pay something in the neighborhood of a
hundred billion dollars, and the French Finance Minister, Klotz, was
equally optimistic. At first, accordingly, Allied demands on Germany
seemed likely to be fantastic.
The Americans, on the other hand, were infinitely more conservative in
their estimates of what Germany could pay. Even after certain Allied
experts, including Montagu and Loucheur, affirmed the necessity of scaling
down the suggested sum of reparations, the difference between the
American proposals and those of the Allies was serious.[13] Political
considerations, however, interposed, and preventing the settling of a
definite total sum which Germany must pay. Neither Lloyd George nor
Clemenceau dared to go to their constituents with the truth, namely that
Germany could not possibly pay the enormous indemnities which the
politicians had led the people to expect. (Lloyd George, for example, had
stated the sum that Germany must pay at about $120,000,000,000.) Both the
chiefs of state asserted that they were almost certain to be turned out of
office as a result, with consequent confusion in the Peace Conference, and
a prolongation of the crisis. The only escape seemed to be in a
postponement of the problem by not naming any definite sum which Germany
must pay, but requiring her to acknowledge full liability. The
disadvantages of this method were apparent to the President and his
financial advisers, for it was clear that the economic stability of the
world could not be restored until the world knew how much Germany was
going to pay.
[Footnote 13: At first the French and British refused to name any
specific sum that might be collected from Germany, requesting the
Americans to submit estimates. The latter named $5,000,000,000 as
representing a sum that might be collected prior to May 1, 1921, and
thereafter a capital sum as high as $25,000,000,000, always provided that
the other clauses in the treaty did not too greatly drain Germany's
resources. After some weeks of discussion the French experts stated that
if the figures could be revised up to $40,000,000,000 they would
recommend them to their chiefs. The British refused to accept a figure
below $47,000,000,000.]
Equally difficult was the problem of the French frontier. The return of
Alsace-Lorraine to France was unanimously approved. The French claimed in
addition, the districts of the Saar, with their valuable coal-fields, a
portion of which had been left to France after the first abdication of
Napoleon but annexed to Prussia after his defeat at Waterloo; and they
contended that if the German territories west of the Rhine were not to be
annexed to France, they must at least be separated from Germany, which
had secured a threatening military position mainly through their
possession. American experts had felt inclined to grant a part of the
Saar region to France as compensation for the wanton destruction of
French mines at Lens and Valenciennes by the Germans; but both Wilson and
Lloyd George were opposed to absolute annexation of the district which
the French demanded, including, as it did, more than six hundred thousand
Germans and no French. Wilson was definitely hostile to any attempt to
separate from the Fatherland such purely German territory as that on the
left bank of the Rhine. The Allies, as well as himself, had given
assurances that they did not aim at the dismemberment of Germany, and it
was on the basis of such assurances that the Germans had asked for an
armistice. Wilson admitted that from the point of view of military
strategy the argument of Foch was unanswerable, under the old conditions;
but he insisted that the League of Nations would obviate the necessity of
the strategic protection asked for.
The struggle over these issues nearly broke the back of the Conference.
If Clemenceau had yielded in January when the League was demanded by
Wilson, it was with the mental reservation that when the "practical"
issues came up, the victory should be his. The French press were not slow
to give support to their Government, and within a short time the
President, so recently a popular idol, found himself anathematized as a
pro-German and the sole obstacle to a speedy and satisfactory peace. The
more noisy section of the British press followed suit. Liberals were
silenced and American idealism was cursed as meddlesome myopia. For some
days the deadlock appeared interminable and likely to become fatal. In a
contest of obstinacy even Wilson could be matched by Clemenceau. The
increasing bitterness of French attacks upon the Americans began to tell
upon Wilson; for the first time his physical strength seemed likely to
collapse under the strain. Matters were brought to a head by a bold
stroke, on the 7th of April, when Wilson ordered the _George Washington_
to sail for Brest. The inference was plain: the President would leave the
Conference unless the Allies abated their claims.
The week of strain was followed by one of adjustment. Fearing an open
break with America, Allied leaders showed themselves anxious to find a
compromise, and Wilson himself was willing to meet them part way, since
he realized that without France and England his new international system
could never operate. Colonel House found opportunity for his tested skill
and common sense as a mediator, and he was assisted by Tardieu, who
proved himself to be fertile in suggestions for a practical middle
course. As in the case of all compromises, the solutions satisfied no one
completely. But clearly some sort of treaty had to be framed, if the
world were to resume normal life and if the spread of social revolution
were to be checked. At least the compromises had the virtue of winning
unanimity, without which Europe could not be saved.
The indemnity problem was settled, at least for the moment, by postponing
a final definite statement of the total amount that Germany must pay. It
was decided that the sum of five billion dollars (twenty billion gold
marks), in cash or kind, should be demanded from Germany as an initial
payment, to be made before May 1, 1921. Certain abatements were to be
permitted the Germans, since this sum was to include the expenses of the
army of occupation, which were reckoned as in the neighborhood of a
billion dollars; and supplies of food and raw materials, which Germany
might need to purchase, could be paid for out of that sum. In the second
place, Germany was required to deliver interest-bearing bonds to a further
amount of ten billions; and, if the initial payment of cash fell short of
five billions by reason of permitted deductions, the amount of bonds was
to be so increased as to bring the total payments in cash, kind, or bonds,
up to fifteen billions by May 1, 1921. If a Reparations Commission, the
decisions of which Germany must agree to accept, should be satisfied that
more yet could be paid, a third issue of bonds, amounting to a further ten
billions might be exacted. Even this total of twenty-five billions was not
to be regarded as final, if Germany's capacity to pay more were determined
by the Reparations Commission. Germany was required to acknowledge full
liability, and the total sum which she might theoretically have to pay was
reckoned by a British expert as between thirty-two and forty-four
billions. The Reparations Commission, however, was given the power to
recommend abatements as well as increased payments; upon the wisdom of its
members the practical application of the treaty would obviously
depend.[14]
[Footnote 14: The proposal of a permanent commission for handling the
whole matter of reparations was made first by an American financial
adviser, John Foster Dulles. The idea was accepted by Lloyd George and
Clemenceau as an efficacious method of enabling them to postpone the
decision of a definite sum to be paid by Germany until the political
situation in France and Great Britain should be more favorable.]
In truth the reparations clauses of the treaty, which compelled Germany
to hand over what was practically a blank check to the Allies,
represented no victory for Wilson. But he had at least prevented the
imposition of the crushing indemnities that had been proposed, and which
must have been followed by political and economic consequences hardly
short of disastrous. As for the eastern frontier of France, it was agreed
that the right of property in the coal mines of the Saar district should
be given outright to France, as partial but immediate compensation for
the damage done at Lens and elsewhere. But the district itself was to be
placed under the League of Nations and a plebiscite at the end of fifteen
years was to determine its final destiny. The territory on the left bank
of the Rhine was left to Germany, but it was to be demilitarized
entirely, a condition which also applied to a zone fifty kilometers broad
to the east of the Rhine. The bridgeheads on the Rhine, as well as the
German districts to the west of the river, were to be occupied for
periods extending from five to fifteen years, in order to ensure the
execution of the treaty by the Germans. The French press contended that
Clemenceau had made over-great concessions, protesting that the League
would be utterly unable to protect France against sudden attack,
especially since the Covenant had not provided for a general military
force. In return for these concessions by Clemenceau, Wilson gave an
extraordinary _quid pro quo_. He who had declaimed vigorously against all
special alliances now agreed that until the League was capable of
offering to France the protection she asked, there should be a separate
treaty between France, Great Britain, and the United States, according to
which the two latter powers should promise to come to the defense of
France in case of sudden and unprovoked attack by Germany. The treaty
did not, according to Wilson, constitute a definite alliance but merely
an "undertaking," but it laid him open to the charge of serious
inconsistency.
Thus was passed, by means of compromise, the most serious crisis of the
Conference. In France Wilson never recovered the popularity which he then
lost by his opposition to French demands. In many quarters of Great
Britain and the United States, on the other hand, he was attacked by
liberals for having surrendered to the forces of reaction. In the
Conference, however, he had maintained his prestige, and most moderates
who understood the situation felt that he had done as well as or better
than could be expected. He had by no means had his way in the matter of
reparations or frontiers, but he had gone far towards a vindication of
his principles by avoiding a defeat under circumstances where the odds
were against him. More he probably could not have obtained and no other
American at that time could have secured so much. The sole alternative
would have been for the American delegates to withdraw from the
Conference. Such a step might have had the most disastrous consequences.
It was true, or Europe believed it to be true, that the Conference
represented for the moment the single rallying-point of the elements of
social order on the Continent. The withdrawal of the Americans would have
shattered its waning prestige, discouraged liberals in every country, and
perhaps have led to its dissolution. Nearly every one in Paris was
convinced that the break-up of the Conference would be the signal for
widespread communistic revolt throughout central Europe. By his broad
concessions President Wilson had sacrificed some of his principles, but
he had held the Conference together, the supreme importance of which
seemed at the time difficult to over-emphasize. Having weathered this
crisis the Conference could now meet the storms that were to arise from
the demands of the Italians and the Japanese.
Wilson himself was to be encouraged in the midst of those difficulties by
the triumph accorded him on the 28th of April. On that day the plenary
session of the Conference adopted without a word of dissent the revised
Covenant of the League of Nations, including the amendment that formally
recognized the validity of the Monroe Doctrine.