VON JAGOW, ZIMMERMANN, AND GERMAN-AMERICANS
Our train drew into the Berlin station on the evening of February 2,
1916. The date is worth mentioning, for that marked an important crisis
in German-American relations. Almost the first man I met was my old
friend and colleague, Ambassador James W. Gerard. Mr. Gerard told me
that he was packing up and expected to leave Berlin at any moment, for
he believed that a break between Germany and the United States was a
matter only of days, perhaps of hours. At that time Germany and the
United States were discussing the settlement of the _Lusitania_ outrage.
The negotiations had reached a point where the Imperial Government had
expressed a willingness to express her regrets, pay an indemnity, and
promise not to do it again. But the President and Mr. Lansing insisted
that Germany should declare that the sinking of the _Lusitania_ had been
an illegal act. This meant that Germany at no time in the future could
resume submarine warfare without stultifying herself and doing something
which her own government had denounced as contrary to international law.
But our government would accept nothing less and the two nations were,
therefore, at loggerheads.
“I can do nothing more,” said Mr. Gerard. “I want to have you talk with
Zimmermann and Von Jagow, and perhaps you can give them a new point of
view.”
I soon discovered, from my many callers, that the atmosphere in Berlin
was tense and exceedingly anti-American. Our country was regarded
everywhere as practically an ally of the Entente, and I found that the
most absurd ideas prevailed concerning the closeness of our relations
with England. Thus it was generally believed that Sir Cecil Spring-Rice,
the British Ambassador in Washington, met regularly with President
Wilson’s Cabinet and was consulted on all our national policies.
At three o’clock Mr. Gerard took me to Von Jagow’s house and we spent
more than an hour there with the Foreign Minister. Von Jagow was a
small, slight man of nervous disposition. He lighted cigarette after
cigarette during our interview. He was apparently greatly worried over
the American situation. Let us not suppose that the German Government
regarded lightly a break with the United States. At that time their
newspapers were ridiculing and insulting us, and making fun of the idea
that Uncle Sam would go to war. The contrast between these journalistic
vapourings and the anxiety, even the fear, which this high German
official displayed, much impressed me. The prospect of having our men
and our resources thrown on the side of the Entente he did not regard
indifferently, whatever the Berlin press might say.
“It seems to us a shame that Mr. Lansing should insist that we declare
the _Lusitania_ sinking illegal,” Von Jagow began. “He is acting like a
technical lawyer.”
“If you want the real truth,” I replied, “I do not think that the United
States is particular or technical about the precise terms that you use.
But you must give definite assurances that you are sorry for the act,
say that you regard it as an improper one, and that it will not occur
again. Unless you do this, the United States will not be satisfied.”
“We cannot do that,” he answered. “Public opinion in Germany would not
permit it. If we should make a declaration such as you outline, the
present Cabinet would fall.”
“But I thought that you had public opinion here well under control?” I
answered. “It may take a little time but certainly you can change public
sentiment so that it would approve such a settlement.”
“As far as the newspapers are concerned,” said Von Jagow, “that is true.
We can absolutely control them. However, that will take some time. The
newspapers cannot reverse themselves immediately; they will have to do
it gradually, taking two or three weeks. We can manage them. But there
are members of Parliament whom we can’t control and they would make so
much trouble that we would all have to resign.”
“Yet it seems to me,” I rejoined, “that you could get these members
together, explain to them the necessity of keeping the United States out
of the war, and that they would be convinced. The trouble is that you
Germans don’t understand conditions in my country. You don’t think that
the United States will fight. You don’t understand President Wilson; you
think that he is an idealist and a peace man, and that, under no
circumstances, will he take up arms. You are making the greatest and
most costly mistake that any nation could make. The President has two
sides to his nature. Do not forget that he has Scotch-Irish blood in
him. Up to the present you have seen only the Scotch side of him. That
makes him very cautious, makes him weigh every move, makes him patient
and long-suffering. But he has also all the fire and combativeness of
the Irish. Let him once set his jaws and it takes a crowbar to open them
again. If he once decides to fight, he will fight with all his soul and
to the bitter end. You can go just so far with your provocations but no
farther. You are also greatly deceived because certain important members
of Congress, perhaps even a member of the Cabinet, have been for peace.
But there is one man who is going to settle this matter--that is the
President. He will settle it as he thinks right and just, irrespective
of what other people may say or do.”
Von Jagow said that I had given him a new impression of the President.
But he still had one more reason to believe that the United States would
not go to war.
“How about the German-Americans?” he asked.
“I can tell you all about them,” I answered, “because I am one of them
myself. I was born in Germany and spent the first nine years of my life
here. I have always loved many things German, such as its music and its
literature. But my parents left this country because they were
dissatisfied and unhappy here. The United States gave us a friendly
reception and a home, and made us prosperous and happy. There are many
millions just like us; there is no business opportunity and no social
position that is not open to us. I do not believe that there is a more
contented people in the world than the German-Americans.” I could not
reveal to him my own state of mind, as I was still ambassador, but I
could and did say:
“Take my own children. Their sympathies all through this war have been
with England and her allies. My son is here with me; he tells me that,
if the United States goes to war, he will enlist immediately. Do you
suppose, in case we should go to war with Germany, that they would side
with you? The idea is simply preposterous. And the overwhelming mass of
German-Americans feel precisely the same way.”
“But I am told,” said Von Jagow, “that there will be an insurrection of
German-Americans if your country makes war on us.”
“Dismiss any such idea from your mind,” I replied. “The first one who
attempts it will be punished so promptly and so drastically that such a
movement will not go far. And I think that the loyal German-Americans
themselves will be the first to administer such punishment.”
“We wish to avoid a rupture with the United States,” said Von Jagow.
“But we must have time to change public sentiment here. There are two
parties here, holding diametrically opposed views on submarine warfare.
One believes in pushing it to the limit, irrespective of consequences to
the United States or any other power. The present Cabinet takes the
contrary view; we wish to meet the contentions of your President. But
the militaristic faction is pushing us hard. They will force us out of
office if we declare the _Lusitania_ sinking illegal or improper. I
think that President Wilson should understand this. We are working with
him, but we must go cautiously. I should suppose that Mr. Wilson, since
he wishes to avoid a break, would prefer to have us in power. Why should
he take a stand that will drive us out of office and put in here men
who will make war inevitable between Germany and the United States?”
“Do you wish Washington to understand,” I asked, “that your tenure of
office depends on your not making this declaration?”
“We certainly do,” replied Von Jagow. “I wish that you would telegraph
Washington to that effect. Tell the President that, if we are displaced
now, we shall be succeeded by men who advocate unlimited submarine
warfare.”
He expressed himself as amazed at my description of President Wilson and
his willingness to fight. “We regard him,” said Von Jagow, “as
absolutely a man of peace. Nor do we believe that the American people
will fight. They are far from the scene of action, and, what, after all,
have they to fight for? Your material interests are not affected.”
“But there is one thing that we will fight for,” I replied, “and that is
moral principle. It is quite apparent that you do not understand the
American spirit. You do not realize that we are holding off, not because
we have no desire to fight, but because we wish to be absolutely fair.
We first wish to have all the evidence in. I admit that we are reluctant
to mix in foreign disputes, but we shall insist upon our right to use
the ocean as we see fit and we don’t propose to have Germany constantly
interfering with that right and murdering our citizens. The American is
still perhaps a great powerful youth, but once he gets his mind made up
that he is going to defend his rights, he will do so irrespective of
consequences. You seem to think that Americans will not fight for a
principle; you apparently have forgotten that all our wars have been
over matters of principle. Take the greatest of them all--the Civil War,
from 1861 to ’65. We in the North fought to emancipate the slaves; that
was purely a matter of principle; our material interests were not
involved. And we fought that to the end, although we had to fight our
own brothers.”
“We don’t want to be on bad terms with the United States,” Von Jagow
replied. “There are three nations on whom the peace of the world
depends--England, the United States, and Germany. We three should get
together, establish peace, and maintain it. I thank you for your
explanation; I understand the situation much better now. But I still
don’t see why your Government is so hard on Germany and so easy with
England.”
I made the usual explanation that we regarded our problem with each
nation as a distinct matter and could not make our treatment of Germany
in any way conditional on our treatment of England.
“Oh, yes,” replied Von Jagow, rather plaintively. “It reminds me of two
boys playing in a yard. One is to be punished first and the other is
waiting for his turn. Wilson is going to spank the German boy first,
and, after he gets through, then he proposes to take up England.”
“However,” he concluded, “I wish you would cable the President that you
have gone over the matter with me and now understand the German point of
view. Won’t you please ask him to do nothing until you have reached the
other side and explained the whole thing personally?”
I made this promise, and Mr. Gerard and I cabled immediately.
At four-thirty o’clock I had an engagement to take tea with Dr.
Alexander and his wife at their home. I had been there about fifteen
minutes when Zimmermann was announced! He was a different kind of man
from Von Jagow. He impressed me as much stronger, mentally and
physically. He was tall, even stately in his bearing, masterful in his
manner, direct and searching in his questions, but extremely pleasing
and insinuating.
Zimmermann, discussing the German-American situation, began with a
statement which I presume he thought would be gratifying to me. He told
me how splendidly the Jews had behaved in Germany during the war and how
deeply under obligations the Germans felt to them.
“After the war,” he said, “they are going to be much better treated in
Germany than they have been.”
Zimmermann told me that Von Jagow had told him about our talk and asked
me to repeat part of it. He was particularly interested, he said, in my
statements about the German-Americans, and he wished to learn from me
himself the facts upon which I based my conclusions. Like most Germans,
he regarded the Germanic elements in our population as almost a part of
Germany.
“Are you sure that the mass of German-Americans would be loyal to the
United States in case of war?” he asked. “Aren’t their feelings for the
Fatherland really dominant?”
“You evidently regard those German-Americans as a distinct part of the
population,” I replied, “living apart from the rest of the people and
having very little to do with American life as a whole. You could not
make a greater mistake. You can purchase a few here and there, who will
make a big noise and shout for Germany, but I am talking about the
millions of Americans of German ancestry. These people regard themselves
as Americans and nothing else. The second generation particularly resent
being looked upon as Germans. It is practically impossible to make them
talk German; they refuse to speak anything but English. They do not read
German newspapers and will not go to German schools. They even resent
going to Lutheran churches where the language is German. We have more
than a million German-Americans in New York City, but it has been a
great struggle to keep alive one German theatre; the reason is that
these people prefer the theatres where English is the language. We have
a few German clubs, but their membership is very small. The
German-Americans prefer to belong to the clubs of general membership and
there is not a single one in New York, even the finest, where they are
not received upon their merits. In the political and social life of New
York there are few German-Americans who, as such, have acquired any
prominent position, though there are plenty of men of distinguished
position who are German in origin. If the United States and Germany go
to war, you will not only be surprised at the loyalty of our German
people, but the whole world will be. Another point; if the United States
goes in, we shall fight to the end, and it will be a very long and a
very determined struggle.”
After three years I have no reason to be ashamed of either of these
prophecies. I sometimes wonder what Zimmermann now thinks of my
statements.
After the explanation Zimmermann began to talk about Turkey. He seemed
interested to find out whether the Turks were likely to make a separate
peace. I bluntly told him that the Turks felt themselves to be under no
obligations to the Germans. This gave me another opportunity.
“I have learned a good deal about German methods in Turkey,” I said. “I
think it would be a great mistake to attempt similar tactics in the
United States. I speak of this because there has been a good deal of
sabotage there already. This in itself is solidifying the
German-Americans against you and is more than anything else driving the
United States into the arms of England.”
“But the German Government is not responsible,” said Zimmermann. “We
know nothing about it.”
Of course I could not accept that statement on its face value--recent
developments have shown how mendacious it was--but we passed to other
topics. The matter of the submarine came up again.
“We have voluntarily interned our navy,” said Zimmermann. “We can do
nothing at sea except with our submarines. It seems to me that the
United States is making a serious mistake in so strongly opposing the
submarine. You have a long coast line and you may need the U-boat
yourself some day. Suppose one of the European Powers, or particularly
Japan, should attack you. You could use the submarine to good purpose
then. Besides, if you insist on this proposed declaration in the
_Lusitania_ matter, you will simply force our government into the hands
of the Tirpitz party.”
Zimmermann now returned again to the situation in Turkey. His questions
showed that he was much displeased with the new German Ambassador, Graf
Wolf-Metternich. Metternich, it seemed, had failed in his attempt to
win the good will of the ruling powers in Turkey and had been a trial to
the German Foreign Office. Metternich had shown a different attitude
toward the Armenians from Wangenheim, and he had made sincere attempts
with Talaat and Enver to stop the massacres. Zimmermann now told me that
Metternich had made a great mistake in doing this and had destroyed his
influence at Constantinople. Zimmermann made no effort to conceal his
displeasure over Metternich’s manifestation of a humanitarian spirit. I
now saw that Wangenheim had really represented the attitude of official
Berlin, and I thus had confirmation, from the highest German authority,
of my conviction that Germany had acquiesced in those deportations.
* * * * *
In a few days we had taken the steamer at Copenhagen, and, on February
22, 1916, I found myself once more sailing into New York harbour--and
home.
THE END
[Illustration]
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
End of Project Gutenberg's Ambassador Morgenthau's Story, by Henry Morgenthau