Britain, who had been ceaselessly working for the restoration of their
country, approached the British government with a request that the
opportunity should be utilized at once, and the new democratic Cabinet
in Petrograd requested to issue a proclamation recognizing the
independence of Poland. The reasons for this move having been propounded
in detail, orally and in writing, the Foreign Secretary despatched at
once a telegram to the Ambassador in the Russian capital, instructing
him to lay the matter before the Russian Foreign Minister and urge him
to lose no time in establishing the claim of the Polish provisional
government to the sympathies of the world, and the redress of its wrongs
by Russia. Sir George Buchanan called on Professor Milyukoff, then
Minister of Foreign Affairs and President of the Constitutional
Democratic party, and propounded to him the views of the British
government, which agreed with those of France and Italy, and hoped he
would see his way to profit by the opportunity. The answer was prompt
and definite, and within forty-eight hours of Mr. Balfour's despatch it
reached the Foreign Office. The gist of it was that the Minister of
Foreign Affairs regretted his inability to deal with the problem at that
conjuncture, owing to its great complexity and various bearings, and
also because of his apprehension that the Poles would demand the
incorporation of Russian lands in their reconstituted state. From this
answer many conclusions might fairly be drawn respecting persons,
parties, and principles on the surface of revolutionary Russia. But to
his credit, Mr. Balfour did not accept it as final. He again telegraphed
to the British Ambassador, instructing him to insist upon the
recognition of Poland, as the matter was urgent, and to exhort the
provisional government to give in good time the desired proof of the
democratic faith that is to save Russia. Sir George Buchanan
accomplished the task expeditiously. M. Milyukoff gave way, drafted and
issued the proclamation. Mr. Bonar Law welcomed it in a felicitous
speech in the House of Commons,[191] and the Entente press lauded to the
skies the generous spirit of the new Russian government. The Russian
people and their leaders have traveled far since then, and have rid
themselves of much useless ballast.
As Slavs the Poles might have been naturally predisposed to live in
amity with the Russians, were it not for the specter of the past that
stands between them. But now that Russia is a democracy in fact as well
as in name, this is much more feasible than it ever was before, and it
is also indispensable to the Russians. In the first place, it is
possible that Poland may have consolidated her forces before her mighty
neighbor has recovered the status corresponding to her numbers and
resources. If the present estimates are correct, and the frontiers, when
definitely traced, leave Poland a republic with some thirty-five million
people, such is her extraordinary birth-rate and the territorial scope
it has for development, that in the not far distant future her
population may exceed that of France. Assuming for the sake of argument
that armies and other national defenses will count in politics as much
as hitherto, Poland's specific weight will then be considerable. She
will have become not indeed a world power (to-day there are only two
such), but a European Great Power whose friendship will be well worth
acquiring.
In the meanwhile Polish statesmen--the Poles have one in Roman
Dmowski--may strike up a friendly accord with Russia, abandoning
definitely and formally all claims to so-called historic Poland,
disinteresting themselves in all the Baltic problems which concern
Russia so closely, and envisaging the Ukraine from a point of view that
harmonizes with hers. And if the two peoples could thus find a common
basis of friendly association, Poland would have solved at least one of
her Sphinx questions.
As for the internal development of the nation, it is seemingly hampered
with as many hindrances as the international. It may be likened to the
world after creation, bearing marks of the chaos of the eve. The German
Poles differ considerably from the Austrian, while the Russian Poles are
differentiated from both. The last-named still show traces of recent
servitude in their everyday avocations. They lack the push and the
energy of purpose so necessary nowadays in the struggle for life. The
Austrian Poles in general are reputed to be likewise easy-going, lax,
and more brilliant than solid, while their administrative qualities are
said to be impaired by a leaning toward Oriental methods of transacting
business. The Polish inhabitants of the provinces hitherto under Germany
are people of a different temperament. They have assimilated some of the
best qualities of the Teuton without sacrificing those which are
inherent in men of their own race. A thorough grasp of detail and a gift
for organization characterize their conceptions, and precision,
thoroughness, and conscientiousness are predicated of their methods. If
it be true that the first reform peremptorily called for in the new
republic is an administrative purge, it follows that it can be most
successfully accomplished with the whole-hearted co-operation of the
German Poles, whose superior education fits them to conform their
schemes to the most urgent needs of the nation and the epoch.
The next measure will be internal colonization. There are considerable
tracts of land in what once was Russian Poland, the population of which,
owing to the havoc of war, is abnormally sparse. Some districts, like
that of the Pripet marshes, which even at the best of times had but five
persons to the kilometer, are practically deserts. For the Russian army,
when retreating before the Germans, drove before it a huge population
computed at eight millions, who inhabited the territory to the east of
Brest-Litovsk and northward between Lida and Minsk. Of these eight
millions many perished on the way. A large percentage of the survivors
never returned.[192] Roughly speaking, a couple of millions (mostly
Poles and Jews) went back to their ruined homes. Now the Poles, who are
one of the most prolific races in Europe, might be encouraged to settle
on these thinly populated lands, which they could convert into
ethnographically Polish districts within a relatively short span of
time. These, however, are merely the ideas of a friendly observer, whose
opinion cannot lay claim to any weight.
To-day Poland's hope is not, as it has been hitherto, the nobleman, the
professor, and the publicist, but the peasant. The members of this class
are the nucleus of the new nation. It is from their midst that Poland's
future representatives in politics, arts, and science will be drawn.
Already the peasants are having their sons educated in high-schools and
universities, of which the republic has a fair number well supplied with
qualified teachers,[193] and they are resolute adversaries of every
movement tainted with Bolshevism.
Thus the difficulties and dangers with which new Poland will have to
contend are redoubtable. But she stands a good chance of overcoming them
and reaching the goal where lies her one hope of playing a noteworthy
part in reorganized Europe. The indispensable condition of success is
that the current of opinion and sentiment in the country shall buoy up
reforming statesmen. These must not only understand the requirements of
the new epoch and be alive to the necessity of penetrating public
opinion, but also possess the courage to place high social aims at the
head of their life and career. Statesmen of this temper are rare to-day,
but Poland possesses at least one of them. Her resources warrant the
conviction which her chiefs firmly entertain that she may in a
relatively near future acquire the economic leadership of eastern
Europe, and in population, military strength, and area equal France.
Parenthetically it may be observed that the enthusiasm of the Poles for
British institutions and for intimate relations with Great Britain has
perceptibly cooled.
In the limitations to which she is now subjected, her more optimistic
leaders discern the temporarily unavoidable condition of a beneficent
process of working forward toward indefinite amelioration. Their
people's faith, that may one day raise the country above the highest
summit of its past historical development, if it does not reconcile them
to the present, may nerve them to the effort which shall realize that
high consummation in the future.
FOOTNOTES:
[190] Most of my articles written during the last half of the war, and
some during the armistice, were held back on grounds which were
presumably patriotic. I share with those who were instrumental in
keeping them from the public the moral portion of the reward which
consists in the assumption that some high purpose was served by the
suppression.
[191] On April 26, 1917.
[192] Mainly White Russians.
[193] The Poles have universities in Cracow, Warsaw, Lvoff (Lemberg),
Liublin, and will shortly open one in Posen. One Polish statesman
entertains a novel and useful idea which will probably be tested in the
University of Posen. Noticing that the greater the progress of technical
knowledge the less is the advance made in the knowledge of men, which is
perhaps the most pressing need of the new age, this statesman proposes
to create a new type of university, where there would be two principal
sections, one for the study of natural sciences and mathematics, and the
other for the study of men, which would include biology, psychology,
ethnography, sociology, philology, history, etc.
VIII
ITALY
Of all the problems submitted to the Conference, those raised by Italy's
demands may truly be said to have been among the easiest. Whether placed
in the light of the Fourteen Points or of the old system of the rights
of the victors, they would fall into their places almost automatically.
But the peace criteria were identical with neither of those principles.
They consisted of several heterogeneous maxims which were invoked
alternately, Mr. Wilson deciding which was applicable to the particular
case under discussion. And from his judgment there was no appeal.
It is of the essence of statesmanship to be able to put oneself in the
place--one might almost say in the skin--of the foreign peoples and
governments with which one is called upon to deal. But the feat is
arduous and presupposes a variety of conditions which the President was
unable to fulfil. His conception of Europe, for example, was much too
simple. It has been aptly likened to that of the American economist who
once remarked to the manager of an English railway: "You Britishers are
handicapped by having to build your railway lines through cities and
towns. We go to work diligently: we first construct the road and create
the cities afterward."
And Mr. Wilson happened just then to be in quest of a fulcrum on which
to rest his idealistic lever. For he had already been driven by
egotistic governments from several of his commanding positions, and
people were gibingly asking whether the new political gospel was being
preached only as a foil for backslidings. Thus he abandoned the freedom
of the seas ... on which he had taken a determined stand before the
world. Although he refused the Rhine frontier to France, he had
reluctantly given way to M. Clemenceau in the matter of the Saar Valley,
assenting to a monstrous arrangement by which the German inhabitants of
that region were to be handed over to the French Republic against their
expressed will, as a set-off for a sum in gold which Germany would
certainly be unable to pay.[194] He doubtless foresaw that he would also
yield on the momentous issue of Shantung and the Chino-Japanese secret
treaty. In a word, some of his more important abstract tenets professed
in words were being brushed aside when it came to acts, and his position
was truly unenviable. Naturally, therefore, he seized the first
favorable occasion to apply them vigorously and unswervingly. This was
supplied by the dispute between Italy and Jugoslavia, two nations which
he held, so to say, in the hollow of his hand.
The latter state, still in the making, depended for its frontiers
entirely on the fiat of the American President backed by the Premiers of
Britain and France. And of this backing Mr. Wilson was assured. Italy,
although more powerful militarily than Jugoslavia, was likewise
economically dependent upon the good-will of the two English-speaking
communities, who were assured in advance of the support of the French
Republic. If, therefore, she could not be reasoned or cajoled into
obeying the injunctions of the Supreme Council, she could easily be made
malleable by other means. In her case, therefore, Mr. Wilson's ethical
notions might be fearlessly applied. That this was the idea which
underlay the President's policy is the obvious inference from the calm,
unyielding way in which he treated the Italian delegation. In this
connection it should be borne in mind that there is no more important
distinction between all former peace settlements and that of the Paris
Conference than the unavowed but indubitable fact that the latter rests
upon the hegemony of the English-speaking communities of the world,
whereas the former were based upon the balance of power. So immense a
change could not be effected without discreetly throwing out as useless
ballast some of the highly prized dogmas of the accepted political
creeds, even at the cost of impairing the solidarity of the Latin races.
This was effected incidentally. As a matter of fact, the French are not,
properly speaking, a Latin race, nor has their solidarity with Italy or
Spain ever been a moving political force in recent times. Italy's
refusal to fight side by side with her Teuton allies against France and
her backers may conceivably be the result of racial affinities, but it
has hardly ever been ascribed to that sentimental source. Sentiment in
politics is a myth. In any case, M. Clemenceau discerned no pressing
reason for making painful efforts to perpetuate the Latin union, while
solicitude for national interests hindered him from making costly
concessions to it.
Naturally the cardinal innovation of which this was a corollary was
never invoked as the ground for any of the exceptional measures adopted
by the Conference. And yet it was the motive for several, for although
no allusion was made to the hegemony of Anglo-Saxondom, it was ever
operative in the subconsciousness of the two plenipotentiaries. And in
view of the omnipotence of these two nations, they temporarily
sacrificed consistency to tactics, probably without conscientious
qualms, and certainly without political misgivings. That would seem to
be a partial explanation of the lengths to which the Conference went in
the direction of concessions to the Great Powers' imperialist demands.
France asked to be recognized and treated as the personification of that
civilization for which the Allied peoples had fought. And for many
reasons, which it would be superfluous to discuss here, a large part of
her claim was allowed. This concession was attacked by many as connoting
a departure from principle, but the deviation was more apparent than
real, for under all the wrappings of idealistic catchwords lay the
primeval doctrine of force. The only substantial difference between the
old system and the new was to be found in the wielders of the force and
the ends to which they intended to apply it. Force remains the granite
foundation of the new ordering, as it had been of the old. But its
employment, it was believed, would be different in the future from what
it had been in the past. Concentrated in the hands of the
English-speaking peoples, it would become so formidable a weapon that it
need never be actually wielded. Possession of overwhelmingly superior
strength would suffice to enforce obedience to the decrees of its
possessors, which always will, it is assumed, be inspired by equity. An
actual trial of strength would be obviated, therefore, at least so long
as the relative military and economic conditions of the world states
underwent no sensible change. To this extent the war specter would be
exorcised and trying abuses abolished.
That those views were expressly formulated and thrown into the clauses
of a secret program is unlikely. But it seems to be a fact that the
general outlines of such a policy were conceived and tacitly adhered to.
These outlines governed the action of the two world-arbiters, not only
in the dictatorial decrees issued in the name of political idealism and
its Fourteen Points, which were so bitterly resented as oppressive by
Italy, Rumania, Jugoslavia, Poland, and Greece, but likewise in those
other concessions which scandalized the political puritans and gladdened
the hearts of the French, the Japanese, the Jugoslavs, and the Jews. The
dictatorial decrees were inspired by the delegates' fundamental aims,
the concessions by their tactical needs--the former, therefore, were
meant to be permanent, the latter transient.
All other explanations of the Italian crisis, however well they may fit
certain of its phases, are, when applied to the pith of the matter,
beside the mark. Even if it were true, as the dramatist, Sem Benelli,
wrote, that "President Wilson evidently considers our people as on the
plane of an African colony, dominated by the will of a few ambitious
men," that would not account for the tenacious determination with which
the President held to his slighted theory.
Italy's position in Europe was in many respects peculiar. Men still
living remember the time when her name was scarcely more than a
geographical expression which gradually, during the last sixty years,
came to connote a hard-working, sober, patriotic nation. Only little by
little did she recover her finest provinces and her capital, and even
then her unity was not fully achieved. Austria still held many of her
sons, not only in the Trentino, but also on the other shore of the
Adriatic. But for thirty years her desire to recover these lost children
was paralyzed by international conditions. In her own interests, as well
as in those of peace, she had become the third member of an alliance
which constrained her to suppress her patriotic feelings and allowed her
to bend all her energies to the prevention of a European conflict.
When hostilities broke out, the attitude of the Italian government was a
matter of extreme moment to France and the Entente. Much, perhaps the
fate of Europe, depended on whether they would remain neutral or throw
in their lot with the Teutons. They chose the former alternative and
literally saved the situation. The question of motive is wholly
irrelevant. Later on they were urged to move a step farther and take an
active part against their former allies. But a powerful body of opinion
and sentiment in the country was opposed to military co-operation, on
the ground that the sum total of the results to be obtained by
quiescence would exceed the guerdon of victory won by the side of the
Entente. The correctness of this estimate depended upon many
incalculable factors, among which was the duration of the struggle. The
consensus of opinion was that it would be brief, in which case the terms
dangled before Italy's eyes by the Entente would, it was believed by the
Cabinet, greatly transcend those which the Central Powers were prepared
to offer. Anyhow they were accepted and the compact was negotiated,
signed, and ratified by men whose idealism marred their practical sense,
and whose policy of sacred egotism, resolute in words and feeble in
action, merely impaired the good name of the government without bringing
any corresponding compensation to the country. The world struggle lasted
much longer than the statesmen had dared to anticipate; Italy's
obligations were greatly augmented by Russia's defection, she had to
bear the brunt of all, instead of a part of Austria's forces, whereby
the sacrifices demanded of her became proportionately heavier.
Altogether it is fair to say that the difficulties to be overcome and
the hardships to be endured before the Italian people reached their goal
were and still are but imperfectly realized by their allies. For the
obstacles were gigantic, the effort heroic; alone the results shrank to
disappointing dimensions.
The war over, Italian statesmen confidently believed that those
supererogatory exertions would be appropriately recognized by the
Allies. And this expectation quickly crystallized into territorial
demands. The press which voiced them ruffled the temper of
Anglo-Saxondom by clamoring for more than it was ever likely to concede,
and buoyed up their own nation with illusory hopes, the non-fulfilment
of which was certain to produce national discontent. Curiously enough,
both the government and the press laid the main stress upon territorial
expansion, leaving economic advantages almost wholly out of account.
It was at this conjuncture that Mr. Wilson made his appearance and threw
all the pieces on the political chessboard into weird confusion. "You,"
he virtually said, "have been fighting for the dismemberment of your
secular enemy, Austria. Well, she is now dismembered and you have full
satisfaction. Your frontiers shall be extended at her expense, but not
at the expense of the new states which have arisen on her ruins. On the
contrary, their rights will circumscribe your claims and limit your
territorial aggrandizement. Not only can you not have all the additional
territory you covet, but I must refuse to allot even what has been
guaranteed to you by your secret treaty. I refuse to recognize that
because the United States government was no party to it, was, in fact,
wholly unaware of it until recently. New circumstances have transformed
it into a mere scrap of paper."
This language was not understood by the Italian people. For them the
sacredness of treaties was a dogma not to be questioned, and least of
all by the champion of right, justice, and good faith. They had welcomed
the new order preached by the American statesman, but were unable to
reconcile it with the tearing up of existing conventions, the
repudiation of legal rights, the dissolution of alliances. In particular
their treaty with France, Britain, and Russia had contributed
materially to the victory over the common enemy, had in fact saved the
Allies. "It was Italy's intervention," said the chief of the Austrian
General Staff, Conrad von Hoetzendorff, "that brought about the
disaster. Without that the Central Empires would infallibly have won the
war."[195] And there is no reason to doubt his assertion. In truth Italy
had done all she had promised to the Allies, and more. She had
contributed materially to save France--wholly gratuitously. It was also
her neutrality, which she could have bartered, but did not,[196] that
turned the scale at Bucharest against the military intervention of
Rumania on the side of the Teutons.[197] And without the neutrality of
both these countries at the outset of hostilities the course of the
struggle and of European history would have been widely different from
what they have been. And now that the Allies had achieved their aim they
were to refuse to perform their part of the compact in the name, too, of
a moral principle from the operation of which three great Powers were
dispensed. That was the light in which the matter appeared to the
unsophisticated mind of the average Italian, and not to him alone.
Others accustomed to abstract reasoning asked whether the best
preparation for the future régime of right and justice, and all that
these imply, is to transgress existing rights and violate ordinary
justice, and what difference there is between the demoralizing influence
of this procedure and that of professional Bolshevists. There was but
one adequate answer to this objection, and it consisted in the
whole-hearted and rigid application of the Wilsonian tenets to all
nations without exception. But even the author of these tenets did not
venture to make it.