The Treaty of Versailles, which imposed the terms of peace upon Germany
and her Allies after their complete surrender, was the direct cause of
all the troubles that beset us after the war. It violated the hopes
of all moderate minded people, who believed that the world, after its
frightful lesson, was ready for a new chapter of civilisation in which
militarism might be overthrown as the greatest curse of life, and in
which the common folk of nations might be made secure in their homes
and work by a code of international law and arbitration. The statesmen
who presided over the Peace Conference—Clemenceau, Wilson, Lloyd
George—had the fate of the world in their hands. Waiting for their
decisions, their new plan of Europe, was a world of emotionalised men
and women, ready and eager then, for a little while, to respond to a
generous idealism which would lift all peoples above the morass of
hatred and misery into which they had fallen. The German and Austrian
peoples, starved and defeated, without a rag of pride left to cover
their humiliation, fierce with anger against their war lords—their
Junkers and their politicians of the old brutal caste—were ready
also, for a little while, to join hands with the world democracy in
a new order of life. They were conscience-stricken, ready to make
amends, resigned to an awful price of defeat—provided they were given
their chance of recovery and the liberty of their national life. They
clung desperately to the words of President Wilson who, before their
surrender, had in his Fourteen Points and other messages to the world
outlined a peace which would be generous to the defeated if they
overthrew their old gods, and would be based on justice, the rights of
peoples, and the commonwealth of nations rather than upon vengeance and
hatred.
Fair words, holding out prodigious hopes of a new and better world!
But when the terms of the Peace Treaty were made known they struck a
knock-out blow not only to German hopes but to all the ideals of people
who had looked for something nobler and more righteous by which the
peace of the world should be assured. It was a peace of vengeance.
It reeked with injustice. It was incapable of fulfilment. It sowed
a thousand seeds from which new wars might spring. It was as though
the Devil, in a jester’s cap-and-bells, had sat beside Clemenceau in
his black gloves, and whispered madness into the ear of Wilson, and
leered across the table at Lloyd George, and put his mockery into
every clause. In that Hall of Mirrors at Versailles the ideals for
which millions of men had fought and died—liberty, fair-play, a war to
end war, justice—were mocked and outraged, not by men of evil, but by
good men, not by foul design, but with loyalty to national interests.
Something blinded them.
The Territorial clauses of the Treaty, based theoretically upon “the
self determination of peoples,” created a dozen Alsace Lorraines when
one had been a sore in Europe. The old Austrian Empire was broken
to bits—that was inevitable—but Austria, with its great capital of
Vienna, was cut off from its old source of life, condemned to enormous
mortality—which happened—and many of its people were put under the rule
of their ancient enemies. The Austrian Tyrol is now the Italian Tyrol.
Austrian property and populations are now in the hands of Czechs and
Slovaks and Serbians. Hungary was parcelled out without consideration
of nationality or economic life. Lines were drawn across its waterways,
its railway system and its roads. Its factories, forests and mines
were taken from it. Many of its folk were handed over to Roumanians
and other hostile peoples. The German colonies in Africa were divided
between Great Britain, France and Belgium, although it is a biological
necessity that Germany should have some outlet for the energy and
expansion of her population if another war may be avoided. The Danzig
corridor was made between one part of Germany and another. Greece was
given an Empire in Asia Minor and Thrace, over Turkish populations
which she could only hold by the power of the sword at the cost of a
future war—which she has already fought and lost, abandoned by the
Governments which yielded to her claims.
The resurrection of Poland, by which one of the greatest crimes in
history was blotted out and national liberty given to the peoples of
Esthonia, Latvia and Lithuania, stand to the credit of the peacemakers,
although these new nations have no security in the future if Europe
relies upon force rather than law. Other frontiers drawn carelessly
across the new map of Europe will be blotted out in blood if ever again
the passions stirring from the Rhine to the Volga rise against the
barriers imposed upon them in this uncertain peace.