draw their humbler colleagues and were incapable of according
hospitality to any of the more or less revolutionary ideas floating in
the air, they were also utterly powerless to enforce their behests in
eastern Europe against serious opposition. Thus, although they kept
considerable Inter-Allied forces in Germany, they failed to impose their
decrees there, notwithstanding the circumstance that Germany was
disorganized, nearly disarmed, and distracted by internal feuds. The
Conference gave way when Germany refused to let the Polish troops
disembark at Dantzig, although it had proclaimed its resolve to insist
on their using that port. It allowed Odessa to be evacuated and its
inhabitants to be decimated by the bloodthirsty Bolsheviki. It ordered
the Ukrainians and the Poles to cease hostilities,[103] but hostilities
went on for months afterward. An American general was despatched to the
warring peoples to put an end to the fighting, but he returned
despondent, leaving things as he had found them. General Smuts was sent
to Budapest to strike up an agreement with Kuhn and the Magyar
Bolshevists, but he, too, came back after a fruitless conversation. The
Supreme Council's writ ran in none of those places.
About March 19th the Inter-Allied commission gave Erzberger twenty-four
hours in which to ratify the convention between Germany and Poland and
to carry out the conditions of the armistice. But Erzberger declined to
ratify it and the Allies were unable or unwilling to impose their will
on him. From this state of things the Rumanian delegates drew the
obvious corollary. Exasperated by the treatment they received, they
quitted the Conference, pursued their own policy, occupied Budapest,
presented their own peace conditions to Hungary, and relegated, with
courteous phrases and a polite bow to the Council, the directions
elaborated for their guidance to the region of pious counsels.
In these ways the well-meant and well-advertised endeavors to substitute
a moral relationship of nations for the state of latent warfare known as
the balance of power were steadily wasted. On the one side the subtle
skill of Old World diplomacy was toiling hard and successfully to revive
under specious names its lost and failing causes, while on the other
hand the New World policy, naïvely ignoring historical forces and
secular prejudices, was boldly reaching out toward rough and ready modes
of arranging things and taking no account of concrete circumstances.
Generous idealists were thus pitted against old diplomatic stagers and
both secretly strove to conclude hastily driven bargains outside the
Council chamber with their opponents. As early as the first days of
January I was present at some informal meetings where such transactions
were being talked over, and I afterward gave it as my impression that
"if things go forward as they are moving to-day the outcome will fall
far short of reasonable expectations. The first striking difference
between the transatlantic idealists and the Old World politicians lies
in their different ways of appreciating expeditiousness, on the one
hand, and the bases of the European state-system, on the other hand. A
statesman when dealing with urgent, especially revolutionary,
emergencies should never take his eyes from the clock. The politicians
in Paris hardly ever take account of time or opportunity. The overseas
reformers contend that the territorial and political balance of forces
has utterly broken down and must be definitely scrapped in favor of a
league of nations, and the diplomatists hold that the principle of
equilibrium, far from having spent its force, still affords the only
groundwork of international stability and requires to be further
intensified."[104]
Living in the very center of the busy world of destiny-weavers, who were
generously, if unavailingly, devoting time and labor to the fabrication
of machinery for the good government of the entire human race out of
scanty and not wholly suitable materials, a historian in presence of the
manifold conflicting forces at work would have found it difficult to
survey them all and set the daily incidents and particular questions in
correct perspective. The earnestness and good-will of the
plenipotentiaries were highly praiseworthy and they themselves, as we
saw, were most hopeful. Nearly all the delegates were characterized by
the spirit of compromise, so valuable in vulgar politics, but so
perilous in embodying ideals. Anxious to reach unanimous decisions even
when unanimity was lacking, the principal statesmen boldly had recourse
to ingenious formulas and provisional agreements, which each party might
construe in its own way, and paid scant attention to what was going on
outside. I wrote at the time:[105]
"But parallel with the Conference and the daily lectures which its
members are receiving on geography, ethnography, and history there are
other councils at work, some publicly, others privately, which represent
the vast masses who are in a greater hurry than the political world to
have their urgent wants supplied. For they are the millions of Europe's
inhabitants who care little about strategic frontiers and much about
life's necessaries which they find it increasingly difficult to obtain.
Only a visitor from a remote planet could fully realize the significance
of the bewildering phenomena that meet one's gaze here every day without
exciting wonder.... The sprightly people who form the rind of the
politico-social world ... are wont to launch winged words and coin witty
epigrams when characterizing what they irreverently term the efforts of
the Peace Conference to square the circle; they contrast the noble
intentions of the delegates with the grim realities of the workaday
world, which appear to mock their praiseworthy exertions. They say that
there never were so many wars as during the deliberations of these
famous men of peace. Hard fighting is going on in Siberia; victories and
defeats have just been reported from the Caucasus; battles between
Bolshevists and peace-lovers are raging in Esthonia; blood is flowing in
streams in the Ukraine; Poles and Czechs have only now signed an
agreement to sheath swords until the Conference announces its verdict;
the Poles and the Germans, the Poles and the Ukrainians, the Poles and
the Bolshevists, are still decimating each other's forces on territorial
fragments of what was once Russia, Germany, or Austria."
Sinister rumors were spread from time to time in Paris, London, and
elsewhere, which, wherever they were credited, tended to shake public
confidence not only in the dealings of the Supreme Council with the
smaller countries, but also in the nature of the occult influences that
were believed to be occasionally causing its decisions to swerve from
the orthodox direction. And these reports were believed by many even in
Conference circles. Time and again I was visited by delegates
complaining that this or that decision was or would be taken in response
to the promptings not of land-grabbing governments, but of wealthy
capitalists or enterprising captains of industry. "Why do you suppose
that there is so much talk now of an independent little state centering
around Klagenfurt?" one of them asked me. "I will tell you: for the sake
of some avaricious capitalists. Already arrangements are being pushed
forward for the establishment of a bank of which most of the shares are
to belong to X." Another said: "Dantzig is needed for
politico-commercial reasons. Therefore it will not be made part of
Poland.[106] Already conversations have begun with a view to giving the
ownership of the wharves and various lucrative concessions to
English-speaking pioneers of industry. If the city were Polish no such
liens could be held on it because the state would provide everything
needful and exploit its resources." The part played in the Banat
Republic by motives of a money-making character is described elsewhere.
A friend and adviser of President Wilson publicly affirmed that the
Fiume problem was twice on the point of being settled satisfactorily for
all parties, when the representatives of commercial interests cleverly
interposed their influence and prevented the scheme from going through
in the Conference. I met some individuals who had been sent on a secret
mission to have certain subjects taken into consideration by the Supreme
Council, and a man was introduced to me whose aim was to obtain through
the Conference a modification of financial legislation respecting the
repayment of debts in a certain republic of South America. This
optimist, however, returned as he had come and had nothing to show for
his plans. The following significant passage appeared in a leading
article in the principal American journal published in Paris[107] on the
subject of the Prinkipo project and the postponement of its execution:
"From other sources it was learned that the doubts and delays in the
matter are not due so much to the declination [_sic_] of several of the
Russian groups to participate in a conference with the Bolshevists, but
to the pulling against one another of the several interests represented
by the Allies. Among the Americans a certain very influential group
backed by powerful financial interests which hold enormously rich oil,
mining, railway, and timber concessions, obtained under the old régime,
and which purposes obtaining further concessions, is strongly in favor
of recognizing the Bolshevists as a _de facto_ government. In
consideration of the _visa_ of these old concessions by Lenin and
Trotzky and the grant of new rights for the exploitation of rich mineral
territory, they would be willing to finance the Bolshevists to the tune
of forty or fifty million dollars. And the Bolshevists are surely in
need of money. President Wilson and his supporters, it is declared, are
decidedly averse from this pretty scheme."
That President Wilson would naturally set his face against any such
deliberate compromise between Mammon and lofty ideals it was superfluous
to affirm. He stood for a vast and beneficent reform and by exhorting
the world to embody it in institutions awakened in some people--in the
masses were already stirring--thoughts and feelings that might long have
remained dormant. But beyond this he did not go. His tendencies, or,
say, rather velleities--for they proved to be hardly more--were
excellent, but he contrived no mechanism by which to convert them into
institutions, and when pressed by gainsayers abandoned them.
An economist of mark in France whose democratic principles are well
known[108] communicated to the French public the gist of certain curious
documents in his possession. They let in an unpleasant light on some of
the whippers-up of lucre at the expense of principle, who flocked around
the dwelling-places of the great continent-carvers and lawgivers in
Paris. His article bears this repellent heading: "Is it true that
English and American financiers negotiated during the war in order to
secure lucrative concessions from the Bolsheviki? Is it true that these
concessions were granted to them on February 4, 1919? Is it true that
the Allied governments played into their hands?"[109]
The facts alleged as warrants for these questions are briefly as
follows: On February 4, 1919, the Soviet of the People's Commissaries in
Moscow voted the bestowal of a concession for a railway linking
Ob-Kotlass-Saroka and Kotlass-Svanka, in a resolution which states "(1)
that the project is feasible; (2) that the transfer of the concession to
representatives of foreign capital may be effected if production will be
augmented thereby; (3) that the execution of this scheme is
indispensable; and (4) that in order to accelerate this solution of the
question the persons desirous of obtaining the concession shall be
obliged to _produce proofs of their contact with Allied_ and neutral
enterprises, and of their capacity to financing the work and supply the
materials requisite for the construction of the said line." On the other
hand, it appears from an _official_ document bearing the date of June
26, 1918, that a demand for the concession of this line was lodged by
two individuals--the painter A.A. Borissoff (who many years ago received
from me a letter of introduction to President Roosevelt asking him to
patronize this gentleman's exhibition of paintings in the United
States), and Herr Edvard Hannevig. Desirous of ascertaining whether
these petitioners possessed the qualifications demanded, the Bolshevist
authorities made inquiries and received from the Royal Norwegian
Consulate at Moscow a certificate[110] setting forth that "citizen
Hannevig was a co-associate of the large banks Hannevig situated in
London and in America." Consequently negotiations might go forward. The
document adds: "In October Borissoff and Hannevig renewed their request,
whereupon the journals _Pravda_, _Izevestia_, and _Ekonomitsheskaya
Shizn_ discussed the subject with animation. At a sitting held on
October 12th the project was approved with certain modifications, and on
February 1, 1919, the Supreme Soviet of National Economy approved it
anew."
The magnitude of the concession may be inferred from the circumstance
that one of its clauses conceded "_the exploitation of eight millions of
forest land_ which even to-day, _despite existing conditions, can bring
in a revenue of three hundred million rubles a year_."
What it comes to, therefore, assuming that these official documents are
as they seem, based on facts, is that from June 26th, that is to say
during the war, the Bolshevist government was petitioned to accord an
important railway concession and also the exploitation of a forest
capable of yielding three hundred million rubles a year to a Russian
citizen who alleged that he was acting on behalf of English and American
capitalists, and that Edvard Hannevig, having proved that he was really
the mandatory of these great allied financiers, the concession was
first approved by two successive commissions[111] and then definitely
conferred by the Soviet of the People's Commissaries.[112]
The eminent author of the article proceeds to ask whether this can
indeed be true; whether English and American capitalists petitioned the
Bolsheviki for vast concessions during the war; whether they obtained
them while the Conference was at its work and soldiers of their
respective countries were fighting in Russia against the Bolsheviki who
were bestowing them. "Is it true," he makes bold to ask further, "that
that is the explanation of the incredible friendliness displayed by the
Allied governments toward the Bolshevist bandits with whom they were
willing to strike up a compromise, whom they were minded to recognize by
organizing a conference on the Princes' Island?... Many times already
rank-smelling whiffs of air have blown upon us; they suggested the
belief that behind the Peace Conference there lurked not merely what
people feared, but something still worse or an immense political Panama.
If this is not true, gentlemen, deny it. Otherwise one day you will
surely have an explosion."[113]
Whether these grave innuendoes, together with the statement made by Mr.
George Herron,[114] the incident of the Banat Republic and the
ultimatum respecting the oil-fields unofficially presented to the
Rumanians suffice to establish a _prima facie_ case may safely be left
to the judgment of the public. The conscientious and impartial
historian, however firm his faith in the probity of the men representing
the powers, both of unlimited and limited interests, cannot pass them
over in silence.
One of the shrewdest delegates in Paris, a man who allowed himself to be
breathed upon freely by the old spirit of nationalism, but was capable
withal of appreciating the passionate enthusiasm of others for a more
altruistic dispensation, addressed me one evening as follows: "Say what
you will, the Secret Council is a Council of Two, and the Covenant a
charter conferred upon the English-speaking peoples for the government
of the world. The design--if it be a design--may be excellent, but it is
not relished by the other peoples. It is a less odious hegemony than
that of imperialist Germany would have been, but it is a hegemony and
odious. Surely in a quest of this kind after the most effectual means of
overcoming the difficulties and obviating the dangers of international
intercourse, more even than in the choice of a political régime, the
principle of self-determination should be allowed free play. Was that
not to have been one of the choicest fruits of victory? But no; force is
being set in motion, professedly for the good of all, but only as their
good is understood by the 'all-powerful Two.' And to all the others it
is force and nothing more. Is it to be wondered at that there are so
many discontented people or that some of them are already casting about
for an alternative to the Anglo-Saxon hegemony misnamed the Society of
Nations?"
It cannot be gainsaid that the two predominant partners behaved
throughout as benevolent despots, to whom despotism came more easily
than benevolence. As we saw, they kept their colleagues of the lesser
states as much in the dark as the general public and claimed from them
also implicit obedience to all their behests. They went farther and
demanded unreasoning acquiescence in decisions to be taken in the
future, and a promise of prompt acceptance of their injunctions--a
pretension such as was never before put forward outside the Catholic
Church, which, at any rate, claims infallibility. Asked why he had not
put up a better fight for one of the states of eastern Europe, a
sharp-tongued delegate irreverently made answer, "What more could you
expect than I did, seeing that I was opposed by one colleague who looks
upon himself as Napoleon and by another who believes himself to be the
Messiah."
Among the many epigrammatic sayings current in Paris about the
Conference, the most original was ascribed to the Emir Faissal, the son
of the King of the Hedjaz. Asked what he thought of the world's
areopagus, he is said to have answered: "It reminds me somewhat of one
of the sights of my own country. My country, as you know, is the desert.
Caravans pass through it that may be likened to the armies of delegates
and experts at the Conference--caravans of great camels solemnly
trudging along one after the other, each bearing its own load. They all
move not whither they will, but whither they are led. For they have no
choice. But between the two there is this difference: that whereas the
big caravan in the desert has but one leader--a little ass--the
Conference in Paris is led by two delegates who are the great Ones of
the earth." In effect, the leaders were two, and no one can say which
of them had the upper hand. Now it seemed to be the British Premier, now
the American President. The former scored the first victory, on the
freedom of the seas, before the Conference opened. The latter won the
next, when Mr. Wilson firmly insisted on inserting the Covenant in the
Treaty and finally overrode the objections of Mr. Lloyd George and M.
Clemenceau, who scouted the idea for a while as calculated to impair the
value of both charters. There was also a moment when the two were
reported to have had a serious disagreement and Mr. Lloyd George, having
suddenly quitted Paris for rustic seclusion, was likened to Achilles
sulking in his tent. But one of the two always gave way at the last
moment, just as both had given way to M. Clemenceau at the outset. When
the difference between Japan and China cropped up, for example, the
other delegates made Mr. Wilson their spokesman. Despite M. Clemenceau's
resolve that the public should not "be apprized that the head of one
government had ever put forward a proposal which was opposed by the head
of another government," it became known that they occasionally disagreed
among themselves, were more than once on the point of separating, and
that at best their unanimity was often of the verbal order, failing to
take root in identity of views. To those who would fain predicate
political tact or statesmanship of the men who thus undertook to set
human progress on a new and ethical basis, the story of these
bickerings, hasty improvisations, and amazing compromises is
distressing. The incertitude and suspense that resulted were
disconcerting. Nobody ever knew what was coming. A subcommission might
deliver a reasoned judgment on the question submitted to it, and this
might be unanimously confirmed by the commission, but the Four or Three
or Two or even One could not merely quash the report, but also reverse
the practical consequences that followed. This was done over and over
again.
And there were other performances still more amazing. When, for example,
the Polish problem became so pressing that it could not be safely
postponed any longer, the first delegates were at their wits' ends.
Unable to agree on any of the solutions mooted, they conceived the idea
of obtaining further data and a lead from a special commission. The
commission was accordingly appointed. Among its members were Sir Esmé
Howard, who has since become Ambassador in Rome, the American General
Kernan, and M. Noulens, the ex-Ambassador of France in Petrograd. These
envoys and their colleagues set out for Poland to study the problem on
the spot. They exerted themselves to the utmost to gather data for a
serious judgment, and returned to Paris after a sojourn of some two
months, legitimately proud of the copious and well-sifted results of
their research. And then they waited. Days passed and weeks, but nobody
took the slightest interest in the envoys. They were ignored. At last
the chief of the commission, M. Noulens, taking the initiative, wrote
direct to M. Clemenceau, informing him that the task intrusted to him
and his colleagues had been achieved, and requesting to be permitted to
make their report to the Conference. The reply was an order dissolving
the commission unheard.
Once when the relations between Messrs. Wilson and Lloyd George were
somewhat spiced by antagonism of purpose and incompatibility of methods,
a political friend of the latter urged him to make a firm stand. But the
British Premier, feeling, perhaps, that there were too many
unascertained elements in the matter, or identifying the President with
the United States, drew back. More than once, too, when a certain
delegate was stating his case with incisive emphasis Mr. Wilson, who
was listening with attention and in silence, would suddenly ask, "Is
this an ultimatum?" The American President himself never shrank from
presenting an ultimatum when sure of his ground and morally certain of
victory. On one such occasion a proposal had been made to Mr. Lloyd
George, who approved it whole-heartedly. But it failed to receive the
_placet_ of the American statesman. Thereupon the British Premier was
strongly urged to stand firm. But he recoiled, his plea being that he
had received an ultimatum from his American colleague, who spoke of
quitting France and withdrawing the American troops unless the point
were conceded. And Mr. Wilson had his way. One might have thought that
this success would hearten the President to other and greater
achievements. But the leader who incarnated in his own person the
highest strivings of the age, and who seemed destined to acquire
pontifical ascendancy in a regenerated world, lacked the energy to hold
his own when matters of greater moment and high principle were at stake.