THE GREAT DECLARATION
In October, 1916, during the Presidential campaign, while the President
was at Shadow Lawn, New Jersey, Ambassador Gerard, at the President's
invitation, paid a visit to him and reported in detail the general
situation in Germany as to the submarine warfare. He said that the
restrictions as to submarines imposed by Germany's acceptance of the
President's ultimatum after the Sussex affair, were growing burdensome and
intolerable to the military and naval masters of Germany and that they
were bringing all kinds of pressure to bear upon the leaders of the Civil
Government, notably Von Bethmann-Hollweg and Foreign Minister Von Jagow,
to repudiate the undertaking. From the critical situation in Germany,
arising out of the controversy over the question of unrestricted submarine
warfare, which Ambassador Gerard laid before him, the President was
convinced that we were now approaching a real crisis in our relations with
Germany and that unless peace could be quickly obtained, the European
struggle would soon enter upon a phase more terrible than any in the
preceding two years, with consequences highly dangerous to the interests
of our country. The passionate wish and deep desire of the President from
the beginning was that we could keep aloof and by conserving our energies
and remaining neutral, hold ourselves in reserve as the only mediating
influence for peace; but with each passing week some untoward event
brought about by the ruthlessness of Germany made the prospect for the
interposition of America's influence daily more unlikely.
The following memorandum prepared by me on January 4, 1916, of a
conversation between the President and myself, shortly after the sinking
of the _Persia_ by a submarine, imperfectly sets forth his idea with
reference to war with Germany:
About ten minutes to ten o'clock this morning I had a very interesting
conversation with the President at the White House, my purpose being
to bring to him the atmosphere of Washington and the country as far as
I could ascertain with reference to the sinking of the _Persia_ by a
submarine. The other purpose of my visit was to warn him that Senator
Stone might induce him to make some admission with reference to his
attitude which might embarrass the President in the future.
The President looked very well after his trip and seemed to be in a
fine mood, although it was plainly evident that the _Persia_ affair
rested heavily upon him. My attitude toward this matter was for
action, and action all along the line. This did not seem to meet with
a very hearty response from the President. He informed me that it
would not be the thing for us to take action against any government
without our government being in possession of all the facts. I replied
that that was my attitude, but I thought there should be action and
vigorous action as soon as all the facts were ascertained. He agreed
with me in this. When I began to tell him about the attitude of the
country and the feeling in the country that there was a lack of
leadership, he stiffened up in his chair and said: "Tumulty, you may
as well understand my position right now. If my rejection as President
depends upon my getting into war, I don't want to be President. I have
been away, and I have had lots of time to think about this war and the
effect of our country getting into it, and I have made up my mind that
I am more interested in the opinion that the country will have of me
ten years from now than the opinion it may be willing to express to-
day. Of course, I understand that the country wants action, and I
intend to stand by the record I have made in all these cases, and take
whatever action may be necessary, but I will not be rushed into war,
no matter if every last Congressman and Senator stands up on his hind
legs and proclaims me a coward." He continued, speaking of the
severance of diplomatic relations,--"You must know that when I
consider this matter, I can only consider it as the forerunner of war.
I believe that the sober-minded people of this country will applaud
any efforts I may make without the loss of our honour to keep this
country out of war." He said that if we took any precipitate action
right now, it might prevent Austria from coming across in generous
fashion.
The President, ten months later, was re-elected, on the slogan, "_He kept
us out of War_." If it was possible to continue at peace on terms that
would protect and conserve our national honour, he was determined to do
so. I recall how passionately he laid before Senator Tillman of South
Carolina, chairman of the Committee on Naval Affairs, his desire to keep
the nation out of war. At the conclusion of the talk with the Senator, he
said: "But, Senator, it rests with Germany to say whether we shall remain
at peace." Turning to the President, Senator Tillman said: "You are right,
Mr. President, we must not go around with a chip on our shoulder. I am for
peace, but I am not for peace at any damn price." This was really
expressive of the President's attitude. He earnestly desired peace, but he
was not willing to remain at peace at the price of the nation's honour.
Early in May, 1916, the President and I had conferred regarding the
European situation and had discussed the possibility of our suggesting to
both sides that they consider the United States as a mediating influence
to bring about a settlement. Early in May, 1916, I had addressed the
following letter to the President with reference to the matter:
THE WHITE HOUSE,
WASHINGTON
May 16, 1916.
MY DEAR GOVERNOR:
As I have discussed with you on frequent occasions, it seems to me
that the time is now at hand for you to act in the matter of _Peace_.
The mere process of peace negotiations may extend over a period of
months. Why should we wait until the moment of exhaustion before ever
beginning a discussion? Everybody admits that the resources of the
nations involved cannot last through another year without suffering of
an untold character. It is now May. Let us assume that everybody
accepts your offer. It would be physically impossible to get
commissioners from various parts of the world, including Japan, in
less than two months. Then the discussion would perhaps last until the
fall, no matter what conclusion might be reached. Therefore, allowing
for the time that might be consumed in persuading all the parties that
the time is now ripe, the whole business will require almost a year in
itself, during which time the hostilities would be continuing and
certainly the chance of getting a truce would be better after the
discussion had been in progress for some time. Similarly, as the time
for the winter campaign approached, the inducement to agree on a truce
on any terms would become more powerful each day.
Let us look at it from the point of view of postponement. If we waited
until the fall and the negotiations stretched out through the winter,
the temptation for making new drives in the spring, with the
preparations made throughout the winter, would incline the
militaristic element in the various countries involved to block peace
negotiations. _It seems, therefore, that the time to act is now when
these drives are spending their force._
As to the Procedure:
It seems that no belligerent should be put in the position by your
note of weakening or of suing for peace, for we must keep in mind the
pride and sensibilities of all. The initiative must be ours--to all
nations, on equal terms. One way to do this would be to send a note,
saying that from the German note and from statesmen representing the
Entente powers the Government of the United States assumes that the
belligerent powers are willing at least to discus suggestions for
peace, each only reserving to itself liberty of action. The United
States can, therefore, announce that it is willing to meet at The
Hague a commission sent by the respective governments to discuss means
for making peace, _and for establishing a world court or international
tribunal to safeguard the peace of the world after the close of the
war_.
In the latter, namely, _world peace_, the United States has a direct
interest. The United States can in the note assume that commissioners
will meet with it and hopes to be advised if there is any feeling to
the contrary.
My idea is to go ahead with the plan on the theory that all the
belligerents are in accord with the idea, so that in answering our
note they will not have accepted anything but our proposals to
discuss, first, the suggestion of peace, and, secondly, the idea of a
world court.
The President should say, in order to elicit the sympathy of the world
and mankind in general, that the note of the United States suggesting
a meeting between the powers will be made public within a few days and
after its receipt by the respective powers. This will give each
government not only its own public opinion to reckon with, but the
public opinion of the civilized world. The nation that objects to a
discussion of peace will by no means be in an enviable position.
I hope you will read the article I am sending you by Mr. Strunsky,
"Post Impressions," especially that part I have indicated in the
margin. It is from this article that I got the idea of suggesting the
alternative proposition of a world court. Your note setting forth your
position in this matter should be an appeal to the heart and to the
conscience of the world.
TUMULTY.
Evidently the President seriously had been considering this very matter as
was shown by the following reply to my note:
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON
DEAR TUMULTY:
Thank you for the memorandum about peace suggestions. I have read it
very carefully and find my own thoughts travelling very much the same
route. You may be sure I am doing a great deal of serious thinking
about it all.
Faithfully,
W. W.
The President, through the State Department and various instrumentalities
to which he had access for information, was keeping in touch with the
German situation and understood from the beginning what the German game
was with reference to peace, and to the various offers which he was
making. He knew that the German peace offers were merely an attempt on the
part of the civil government of Germany to avert a resumption of
ruthlessness at sea; that they were mere gestures on the part of the
German Government made to bolster up the morale of the German people and
that these German offers did not indicate the real desire for peace on
equitable terms, as subsequent events showed, but that they were the terms
of peace of a nation which thought itself the victor, and, therefore, in a
position ruthlessly to dictate a final settlement.
Many of the advisers of the President suggested that he should ignore
these offers. But the President was wiser than those around him in
accepting the German bid at its face value, and he finally called upon
Germany to state the practical terms upon which she was willing to
consider a settlement for peace. There was another reason for the
President's patience. Foreseeing an inevitable crisis with Germany over
the frequent sinking of our ships, he was fully conscious that he could
not draw the whole country with him in aggressive action if before he took
the step leading to war he had not tried out every means of peace. While
his enemies denounced his meekness and apparent subservience to German
diplomacy, and while some went so far as to characterize his conduct as
cowardly, he serenely moved on and forced Germany to a show-down. He not
only asked Germany to state her terms, but he frankly asked the Allies to
give to the world their statement of what they considered the basis of
peace.
One of the phrases in his note to the Allies which caused great irritation
was that "neither side had stated the object for which the war had been
started." While he was criticized for this at the time, it did just what
he intended it to do. It forced Germany openly to avow what she believed
to be the basis of peace, and gave the Allies their chance, as if they
were being forced to do it by the American President, to say what they
thought would be a just settlement.
In the latter part of January Germany announced to the United States that
she was going to begin, on February first, unrestricted submarine warfare
in the zone around the British Isles, and undertook to specify the route
which a restricted number of American ships might take through this zone.
I vividly recall the day the Associated Press bulletin reached the White
House. I took it immediately to the President who was at his desk in his
private office. As I entered, he looked up from his writing, casual
inquiry in his eyes. Without comment I laid the fateful slip of paper on
his desk, and silently watched him as he read and then re-read it. I
seemed to read his mind in the expressions that raced across his strong
features: first, blank amazement; then incredulity that even Germany could
be guilty of such perfidy; then gravity and sternness, a sudden grayness
of colour, a compression of the lips and the familiar locking of the jaw
which always characterized him in moments of supreme resolution. Handing
the paper back to me, he said in quiet tones: "This means war. The break
that we have tried so hard to prevent now seems inevitable."
On February 4th, he addressed Congress, announcing the severance of
diplomatic relations with Germany, and stating his hope that Germany would
pause before it was too late. On February 26th, the steamship. _Aneona_,
with Americans on board, was sunk, and on the next day the President
addressed Congress, suggesting the proclamation of armed neutrality as a
final effort to apply pressure to the Government of Germany, to show that
the United States was in earnest and would protect its rights against
lawless attacks at sea; but these measures failed. Germany seemed bent
upon a break with us, and on April 6, 1917, in response to a memorable
address delivered by the President on April second, the Congress of the
United States declared solemnly that a state of war existed between the
United States and the Imperial German Government.
In concluding his war message, the President said:
It is a fearful thing to lead this great, peaceful people into war,
into the most terrible and disastrous of all wars, civilization itself
seeming to be in the balance. But the right is more precious than
peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have always carried
nearest our hearts, for democracy, for the right of those who submit
to authority to have a voice in their own governments, for the rights
and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by
such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all
nations and make the world itself at last free. To such a task we can
dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and
everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day
has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might
for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace
which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no other.
I accompanied the President to Capitol Hill on the day of the delivery of
his war message, and on that fateful day I rode with him from the Capitol
back to the White House, the echo of applause still ringing in my ears.
For a while he sat silent and pale in the Cabinet Room. At last he said:
"Think what it was they were applauding" [he was speaking of the people
who were lined along the streets on his way to the Capitol]. "My message
to-day was a message of death for our young men. How strange it seems to
applaud that."
That simple remark is one key to an understanding of Woodrow Wilson. All
politicians pretend to hate and to dread war, but Woodrow Wilson really
hates and dreads it in all the fibres of his human soul; hates it and
dreads it because he has an imagination and a heart; an imagination which
shows his sensitive perception the anguish and the dying which war
entails; a heart which yearns and aches over every dying soldier and
bleeds afresh with each new-made wound.
I shall never forget that scene in the Cabinet Room between the President
and myself. He appeared like a man who had thrown off old burdens only to
add new ones.
It was apparent in his talk with me that he felt deeply wounded at the
criticism that for months had been heaped upon him for his seeming
unwillingness to go to war with Germany. As he discussed the step he had
just taken, it was evident to me that he keenly felt the full solemnity
and tragedy of it all. Turning to me, he said: "Tumulty, from the very
beginning I saw the end of this horrible thing; but I could not move
faster than the great mass of our people would permit. Very few understood
the difficult and trying position I have been placed in during the years
through which we have just passed. In the policy of patience and
forbearance I pursued I tried to make every part of America and the varied
elements of our population understand that we were willing to go any
length rather than resort to war with Germany. As I told you months ago,
it would have been foolish for us to have been rushed off our feet and to
have gone to war over an isolated affair like the _Lusitania_. But now we
are certain that there will be no regrets or looking back on the part of
our people. There is but one course now left open to us. Our consciences
are clear, and we must prepare for the inevitable--a fight to the end.
Germany must be made to understand that we have rights that she must
respect. There were few who understood this policy of patience. I do not
mean to say this in a spirit of criticism. Indeed, many of the leading
journals of the country were unmindful of the complexities of the
situation which confronted us."
The President then took out of his pocket an old and worn newspaper
clipping, saying: "I wish to read you an analysis of my position and my
policy by a special writer for the _Manchester Guardian_, who seemed,
without consulting me or ever conferring with me, to know just what I am
driving at."
This special writer, commenting upon the Wilson policy, had said:
Mr. Wilson's patience, now derided and criticized, will inevitably be
the means by which he will lead his people by easy stages to the side
of the Allies. By his methods of patience and apparent subservience to
Germany, he will convince the whole American people that no other
course save war is possible. This policy of Wilson's, now determined
on, will work a complete transformation in his people. It will not
evidence itself quickly or overnight. The moral preachment of Wilson
before and after war will be the cause that will finally bring his
people to the side of the Allies.
Again turning to me, the President said: "Our course from this time on is
clear. The whole business of war that we are now engaged upon is fraught
with the gravest difficulties. There will be great enthusiasm in the
country from this day. I trust it will not slacken or weaken as the
horrors of the war and its tragedies are disclosed. Of course our motives
will be misconstrued, our purposes misunderstood; some of our best friends
will misinterpret what we seek to do. In carrying on the war we will be
obliged to do certain unusual things, things that will interfere with the
lives and habits of our people, which will bring down upon us a storm of
criticism and ridicule. Our life, therefore, until this thing is over, and
God only knows when it will be over, will be full of tragedy and
heartaches."
As he spoke, he was no longer Woodrow Wilson, the protagonist of peace,
but Woodrow Wilson, the stern warrior, now grimly determined to pursue the
great cause of America to the end.
The President continued talking to me. He said: "It has not been easy to
carry these burdens in these trying times. From the beginning I saw the
utter futility of neutrality, the disappointment and heartaches that would
flow from its announcement, but we had to stand by our traditional policy
of steering clear of European embroilments. While I have appeared to be
indifferent to the criticism which has been my portion during these
critical days, a few have tried to understand my purpose and have
sympathized throughout with what I sought to do."
Then, as he lowered his voice, he said: "There is a fine chap in
Springfield, Massachusetts, editor of a great paper there, who understood
my position from the beginning and who has sympathized with me throughout
this whole business." For a moment he, paused, and then went on: "I want
to read you the letter I received from this fine man." As he read, the
emotion he felt at the tender sympathy which the words conveyed gripped
him. The letter is as follows:
Springfield, Massachusetts,
March 28, 1917.
MY DEAR MR. PRESIDENT:
In acknowledging your very kind and appreciative note of March 22nd, I
must say at once that the note has given me the greatest possible
pleasure. I prize this word from you all the more because after the
political experience and conflicts of the past few years, I am
conscious of a very real yet peculiar feeling of having summered and
wintered with you, in spite of the immeasurable and rather awful
distance that separates our respective places in the life and work of
our time. Your note, for the moment, suddenly annihilates the distance
and brings to me what I recognize as a very human touch.
There is summering and wintering to come,--with more wintering perhaps
than we shall enjoy;--even so, I shall hope to be of timely service,
as opportunity favours me.
I have the honour to be your admirer and friend.
Most sincerely,
(Signed) WALDO L. COOK.
"That man understood me and sympathized." As he said this, the President
drew his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away great tears that stood
in his eyes, and then laying his head on the Cabinet table, sobbed as if
he had been a child.