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Title: The Lost Fruits of Waterloo


Author: John Spencer Bassett



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THE LOST FRUITS OF WATERLOO


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THE LOST FRUITS OF WATERLOO

by

JOHN SPENCER BASSETT, PH.D., LL.D.

Author of “Life of Andrew Jackson,” “A Short History
of the United States,” “The Middle Group
of American Historians,” “The
Federalist System,” etc.







New York
The Macmillan Company
1918
All rights reserved

Copyright, 1918
By the Macmillan Company

Set up and printed. Published April, 1918




PREFACE


This book was begun under the influence of the enthusiasm aroused by
President Wilson’s address to Congress on January 22, 1917. It was
then that he first gave definite utterance of his plan for a league,
or federation, of nations to establish a permanent peace. The idea
had long been before the world, but it was generally dismissed as too
impracticable for the support of serious minded men. By taking it
up the President brought it into the realm of the possible. In the
presence of the great world catastrophe that hung over us it seemed
well to dare much in order that we might avoid a repetition of existing
evils. And if the idea was worth trying, it was certainly worth a
careful examination in the light of history. It was with the hope of
making such a careful examination that I set to work on the line of
thought that has led to this book.

As my work has progressed the great drama has been unfolding itself
with terrible realism. New characters have come upon the stage,
characters not contemplated in the original cast of the play. At the
same time some of the old parts have undergone such changes that they
appear in new relations. I am not unmindful of the fact that events
now unforeseen may make other and radical changes in the _dramatis
personæ_ before this book is placed in the hand of the reader. But
always the great problem must be the same, the prevention of a return
to the present state of world madness. That end we must ever keep in
mind as we consider the arguments here advanced, and any inconsistency
discovered between the argument and the actual state of events will,
I hope, be treated with as much leniency as the transitions of the
situation seem to warrant.

As I write, many things indicate that the great conflict is approaching
dissolution. The exhaustion of the nations, the awakening voices of
the masses, the evident failure of militarism to lead Germany to world
empire, the rising spectre of the international solidarity of the
laborers, and many other portents seem to show that the world will soon
have to say “yes” or “no” to the plain question: “Shall we, or shall we
not, have a union of nations to promote permanent peace?”

The warning that they must answer the question is shouted to many
classes. Bankers are threatened with the repudiation of the securities
of the greatest nations, manufacturers may soon see their vast gains
swallowed up in the destruction of the forms of credit which hitherto
have seemed most substantial, churches and every form of intellectual
life that should promote civilization may have their dearest ideals
swept away in a rush toward radicalism, and even the German autocracy
is fighting for its life against an infuriated and despairing
proletariat. Are not these dangers enough to make us ask if the old
menace shall continue?

It is not my purpose to answer all the questions I ask. It is
sufficient to unfold the situation and show how it has arisen out of
the past. If the reader finds that mistakes were once made, he will
have to consider the means of correcting them. No pleader can compel
the opinions of intelligent men and women. It is enough if he lays
the case before clear and conscientious minds in an impersonal way.
More than this he should not try to do: as much as this I have sought
to do. If the world really lost the fruits of its victory over a world
conqueror at Waterloo, it is for the citizen of today to say in what
way the lost fruits can be recovered.

Many friends have aided me in my efforts to present my views to the
public, and among them Dr. Frederick P. Keppel, Dean of Columbia
University, deserves special acknowledgment. I am also under
obligation to Dean Ada C. Comstock, of Smith College, for very careful
proofreading. But for the opinions here expressed and the errors which
may be discovered I alone am responsible.

            JOHN SPENCER BASSETT.

  Northampton, Massachusetts,
      February 5, 1918.




INTRODUCTION


The nations of Europe fought a great war to a finish a hundred and two
years ago, defeating a master leader of men and ending the ambitions
of a brilliantly organized nation. They were so well satisfied with
their achievement that they imagined that peace, won after many years
of suffering, was a sufficient reward for their sacrifices. To escape
impending subjugation seemed enough good fortune for the moment. They
forgot that it was a principle and not merely a man they had been
contending against, and when they had made sure that Napoleon was
beyond the possibility of a return to power, they thought the future
was secure. But the principle lived and has come to life again. It was
the inherent tendency to unification in government, a principle that
appeals to the national pride of most peoples when they find themselves
in a position to make it operate to the supposed advantage of their own
country. It has been seized upon by the Germans in our own generation,
to whom it has been as glittering a prize as it was to the Frenchmen of
the early nineteenth century. To conquer the world and win a place in
the sun is no mean ideal; and if the efforts of the _Entente_ allies
succeed in defeating it in its present form, it is reasonably certain
that it will appear again to distress the future inhabitants of the
earth, unless sufficient steps are taken to bind it down by bonds which
cannot be broken.

This conviction has led to the suggestion that when Germany is beaten,
as she must be beaten, steps should be taken, not only to insure that
she shall not again disturb the earth, but that no other power coming
after her shall lay the foundations and form the ambition which will
again put the world to the necessity of fighting the present war
over again. When the North broke the bonds of slavery in the South
in 1865 it was filled with a firm determination that slavery should
stay broken. In the same way, when the nations shall have put down the
menace of world domination now rampant in Europe, they should make it
their first concern to devise a means by which the menace shall stay
broken.

To kill a principle demands a principle equally strong and inclusive.
No one nation can keep down war and subjugation; for it must be so
strong to carry out that purpose that it becomes itself a conqueror.
It would be as intolerable to Germany, for example, to be ruled
by the United States as it would be to the United States if they
were ruled by Germany. The only restraint that will satisfy all the
nations will be exercised by some organ of power in which all have
fair representation and in which no nation is able to do things which
stimulate jealousy and give grounds for the belief that some are being
exploited by others. This suggestion does not demand a well integrated
federal government for all the functions of the state but merely the
adoption of a system of coöperation with authority over the outbreak
of international war and strong enough to make its will obeyed. It is
federation for only one purpose and such a purpose as will never be
brought into vital action as long as the federated will is maintained
at such a point of strength and exercised with such a degree of
fairness that individual states will not question that will.

This principle of federated action for a specific purpose was adopted
by the United States in 1789, and though hailed by the practical
statesmen of Europe as an experiment, it has proved the happiest form
of government that has yet been established over a vast territory in
which are divergent economic and social interests. In it is much more
integration than would exist in a federated system to prevent war,
where the action of the central authority would be limited to one main
object. If it could be formed and put into operation by the present
generation, who know so well what it costs to beat back the spectre of
world conquest it might pass through the preliminary critical stages
of its existence successfully. At any rate, the world is full of the
feeling that such things may be possible, and it would be unwise to
dismiss the suggestion without giving it fair and full consideration.

The discussion brings up what seems to be a law of human activities,
that as the ages run and as men develop their minds they combine in
larger and larger units for carrying on the particular thing they are
interested in. And they make these combinations by force or through
mutual agreement. We have before us the consideration of the most
important form of this unifying process, the unification of nations,
which has generally come through force, but sometimes has come through
agreement.

In recent industrial history is a parallel process so well illustrating
the point at issue that I can not refrain from mentioning it. In his
book, _My Four Years in Germany_, Mr. James W. Gerard contrasts great
industrial combinations in the United States and Germany. In one
country are trusts, in the other great companies known as cartels.
The development of the trust we know well. It came out of a process
of competitive war. Some large manufacturer who possessed ability for
war, formed an initial group of manufacturers with the prospect of
controlling a large part of the market. He was careful to see that
his own group had the best possible organization, central control,
and a loyal body of subordinates. Then he opened his attack on his
smaller rivals, and in most cases they were driven into surrender or
bankruptcy. It was a hard process, but it led to industrial unity with
its many advantages.

The cartel began with co-operation. All the persons or companies
manufacturing a given article were asked to unite in its creation. They
pooled their resources, adopted common buying and selling agencies,
and shared the returns amicably. They proved very profitable for the
shareholders, and they strengthened the national industry in its
competition against foreigners. In the United States the trust has been
unpopular, despite its many economic advantages. The reason is the
battle-like methods by which it destroyed its rivals. The result was
the enactment of laws to restrain its development, laws so contrary
to the trend of the times that they have been very tardily enforced.
The cartel, established with the co-operation of the whole group of
manufacturers, aroused no antagonism and obtained the approval of the
laws. It is not necessary to say which is the better of these two
methods of arriving at the same object.

Turning to the subject with which we are here chiefly concerned, it
is interesting to note that Germany has undertaken in the last years
to carry forward her world expansion by methods that are entirely
different. While she has federated in industrial life she appears in
her foreign relations as a true representative of the spirit that
built up the trusts. She means to unify her competitor states, not as
she has united her industries, but as the American trusts secured the
whole field of operations. First she forms a small group with herself
at the head. In the group are Germany, Austria, Turkey, and, later on,
Bulgaria. At this stage of her progress she has gone as far as the
Standard Oil Company had gone when Mr. Rockefeller had perfected the
idea of the “trust” in 1882. Her next step was to attack her rivals.
France she would crush at a blow, first lulling Great Britain to
inactivity by feigned friendship and the promise of gains in the Near
East. Then she would do what she would with Russia. With these two
nations disposed of, Britain, the unready, could be easily brought to
terms, and the United States would then be at her mercy. The mass of
German people had not, perhaps, reasoned the process out in this way;
but it was so easily seen that it could not have escaped the minds of
the leaders of the German military party. No trust builder ever made
fairer plans for the upbuilding of his enterprise than these gentlemen
made for putting through their combination, before which they saw in
their minds the states of the world toppling. So well were the plans
made and so efficient were the strokes that the utmost efforts of the
rest of the world have become necessary to defeat the German hopes.

The United States have approached the problem of world relations in
another spirit. Rejecting the spirit of the trust magnate, which
Germany accepted, we have turned to coöperation as the means of
avoiding international competition and distrust. President Wilson’s
repeated suggestions of a federated peace are couched in the exact
spirit of the cartel. He asks that war may be replaced by coöperation,
pointing out the tremendous advantage to all if the machinery of
competition can be discarded.

Viewed in its largest aspects, therefore, the present struggle has
resolved itself into a debate over the amount of unity that shall in
the future exist between states. It does not seem possible that Austria
will ever be a thoroughly sovereign state again, nor that Turkey will
escape from the snare in which her feet are caught. What degree of
unity this will engender between France and Great Britain, if the old
system of international relations continues, it is not hard to guess.
And as for the small states of Europe, their future is very perplexing.

This much rests on the assumption that Germany and her allied
neighbours are going to make peace without defeat and without victory.
If they should be able to carry off a triumph, which now seems
impossible, it would not be hard to tell in what manner unification
would come. However the result, the separateness of European states
will probably be diminished, and their interdependence, either in two
large groupings or in some more or less strong general grouping, will
be increased.

No wise man will undertake to say which form of interdependence will
be the result. But it seems certain that we stand today with two roads
before us, each leading to the same end, a stronger degree of unity.
One goes by way of German domination, the other by way of equal and
mutual agreement. I do not need to say which will be pleasanter to
those who travel. We cannot stand at the crossing forever: some day we
shall pass down one of the roads. It is said that the world is not yet
ready to choose the second road, and that it must go on in the old way,
fighting off attempts at domination, until it learns the advantages of
co-operation. It may be so; but meanwhile it is a glorious privilege to
strike a blow, however weak, in behalf of reason.




CONTENTS


                                                   PAGE

  INTRODUCTION                                         ix

  CHAPTER

     I  THE QUESTION OF PERMANENT PEACE                 1

    II  EARLY ADVOCATES OF UNIVERSAL PEACE             23

   III  PROBLEMS OF THE NAPOLEONIC WARS                43

    IV  EUROPE UNDER THE CONCERT OF THE POWERS         65

     V  THE LATER PHASES OF THE CONCERT OF EUROPE      83

    VI  THE BALKAN STATES                             103

   VII  GERMAN IDEALS AND ORGANIZATION                132

  VIII  THE FAILURE OF THE OLD EUROPEAN SYSTEM        154

    IX  IF THE SUBMARINES FAIL                        184

     X  OBSTACLES TO AN ENDURING PEACE                205

    XI  ARGUMENTS FOR A FEDERATION OF STATES          229

   XII  A FEDERATION OF NATIONS                       254




THE LOST FRUITS OF WATERLOO




CHAPTER I

THE QUESTION OF PERMANENT PEACE


When war broke over the world three years ago many ministers and other
people declared that Armageddon had come. They had in mind a tradition
founded on a part of the sixteenth chapter of Revelations, in which
the prophet was supposed to describe a vision of the end of the world.
In that awful day seven angels appeared with seven vials of wrath, and
the contents of each when poured out wiped away something that was dear
to the men of the earth. The sixth angel poured out on the waters of
the river Euphrates, and they were dried up; and then unclean spirits
issued from the mouths of the dragons and of other beasts and from the
mouth of the false prophet, and they went into the kings of the earth,
then the political rulers of mankind, and induced them to bring the
people together “to the battle of that great day of God Almighty.” And
the armies met at Armageddon and fought there the last battle of time.
This striking figure made a deep impression on the early Christians,
and out of it arose the belief that some day would come a great and
final war, in which the nations of the earth would unite for their
mutual destruction, after which the spirit of righteousness would
establish a millennial reign of peace. And so when most of the nations
of the world came together in war in 1914, many persons pronounced the
struggle the long expected Armageddon.

It was easy to say in those days of excitement that this war was going
to be the last. Madness it certainly was, and surely a mad world would
come back to reasonableness after a season of brutal destruction.
Common sense, humanity, and the all powerful force of economic interest
would bring the struggle to an end, and then by agreement steps would
be taken to make a recurrence of the situation impossible.

It was in the days when we still had confidence in civilization.
Humanity, we said, had developed to such an extent that it could not
return to the chaos that an age of war would imply. International law
was still considered a binding body of morality, if not of actual law.
International public opinion was believed to have power to punish
national wrong-doers. We who teach said as much to our classes many
times in those days of innocence. In all sincerity we felt that a
nation could not do this or that thing because public opinion would not
tolerate it. How far distant seem now the days of early summer in 1914!

We had adopted many specific rules to restrain needless barbarity in
war. For example, we would not use dum-dum bullets, nor drop bombs
on non-combatants, nor shell the homes of innocent dwellers on the
seashore. It was considered an achievement of the civilized spirit
that an army occupying enemy territory would respect the rights of the
non-combatant inhabitants, set guards over private property, protect
women and children from injury, and permit civilians to go about their
business as long as they did not intermeddle with military matters.
In three and a half horrible years we have drifted a long way from
these protestations. Those of us who once studied the elements of
international law may well study them again when the war is over, if,
indeed, international law is still thought worth studying.

In the vision the angel poured out his vial on the great river, to the
early men of Mesapotamia the symbol of the great waters. In our own
day we have seen strange engines of wrath placed in the great waters,
foul spirits that destroy men and ships in disregard of the rules of
fair fighting. And out of the mouths of dragons and other loathsome
beasts, and of false prophets as well, evil spirits have issued in
these sad days. They have taken their places in the hearts and minds of
self-willed men and made beasts of them; so that the rest of humanity
have had to fight against them and suffer themselves to be killed by
them, in order that the wicked shall not triumph over the whole earth.

The war has been gruesome beyond the imagination of man. No other
recorded experience has told us of so much killing, and of so many
different ways of killing. Men have been slain with swords, cannon,
great howitzers, rifles, machine guns, tanks, liquid fire, electrified
wires, and finally with the germs of disease deliberately planted.
Nothing that science could invent for destroying human life has been
omitted, except, possibly, dum-dum bullets; and in view of the use of
much more cruel means we may well ask, “Why not dum-dums also?”

We must admit that if the author of the Book of Revelations had
prophetic insight and foresaw the world struggle that now is, he did
not overpaint its terrors. And so, asks the man of faith, if the first
part of the vision comes true, why may not the second part likewise
come true? If the seer could foresee the war and its horrors, may he
not also have spoken truly when he foretold that after Armageddon wars
would be no more; for God would wipe away the desire for them from the
hearts of men?

To this question I answer: If a man is left in the world when this
conflict is ended who glories in deliberate war, he is too bad to live
in civilized society. Certain it is that the vast majority of men and
women are already convinced that the desire for war, henceforth and
forever, is wiped out of their hearts. In the stress of actual battle
or in the preparations to sustain those who fight they may forget the
fundamental folly of the whole thing for the time; but it is always at
the bottom of their hearts. What is the human power of reasoning worth,
if it is not able to devise some way to escape from this obsession of
self-slaughter?

Do not be deceived by the strut of Mars. His _Day_ has come with a
vengeance. He has shot up rapidly, like a jimson-weed, and blossomed
like a cactus. We may have laughed at him in the days of peace, but we
now look to him for protection. We cannot decry the men who are dying
for us, dying in the best sportsmanslike manner. But we do not like
their business as a business, and we wish at the bottom of our hearts
that it were abolished as a peril to humanity. And we believe that
of all who hate war, none hate it more than those who are actually
fighting in this struggle. Let us give Mars his _Day_ and all the glory
that belongs to it, but let us not forget peace while we serve war.

Nor should we be deceived by the pallid pacifist. He has his
counterpart in every struggle; and in general he serves some good
purpose in a multitude of opinions. But the day of stress and world
crisis is not his _Day_; and the practical world loses little time in
putting him in his place. The pacifist does not represent the peace
movement in its freest and most significant form. The advocates of
peace today who are best serving its promotion are those who are out in
the armies bent on putting down that nation who is the most dangerous
enemy of peace.

These men are not mere pieces of machinery in a great driving process.
They are thinking men with political power in their hands, either
actually or potentially. War is a great schoolteacher. It has lasted
in our own time nearly as long as a course in college. The soldiers
who survive from the beginning of this conflict may now be considered
as more than half through their senior year. They know what war is
and what it means, and they know something about the necessary form
of coöperation that must exist in any society before the will of the
people can be carried into effect. They knew little about war four
years ago: they now know all the professors know. Behind the lines and
here in our homes one never sees man nor woman who does not admit that
it would be a blessing to make war impossible; but few of us have any
idea how to go about getting it made impossible. Many of us think we
shall never get people to act together in such a cause. But it seems
unreasonable to expect that men who have raided through “No Man’s
Land,” captured trenches and defeated great armies through organization
and initiative should quail before the inertia of opinion, perhaps the
chief obstacle confronting those who labor for a coöperative peace.

The example of the Russians is a useful point in this connection. At
the beginning of the war their armies were as machine-like as any
armies could be. The privates were generally peasants who did not know
why they fought, and who certainly had nothing to say about the origin
of the war. They were typical “cannon-fodder,” and as unthinking as
any modern soldier can be. They have learned much from less than three
years of war. They slowly acquired purpose, a sense of organization,
and leaders whom they follow. Having made this progress they overthrew
the imperial government, drove away the great nobles, put an ensign in
the place of a former grand duke and two exiles in the seats of the
highest officials, and stripped the highest born army officers of their
titles and insignia.

At the present writing they are holding out against all attempts to
overthrow them, they are playing the diplomatic game with Germany
without discredit,[1] and they are reported to be shaking the
foundations of autocracy in Austria. At any rate, it must be confessed
that a small group of the Russian “cannon-fodder” have made commendable
progress in the process of education during the last ten months. The
process seems to have been under the direction of the socialists, a
small but well organized group of intelligent persons who do not lack
initiative. It is they who are educating the Russian peasants into
political self-expression.

    [1] Since the above was written events have occurred in
        Russia which seem to discredit the diplomacy of the
        revolutionists; but the general situation is so unsettled
        that no conclusions can be drawn at this time, February 27,
        1918.

The possible results of this incident are tremendous. Nowhere else in
the world have the agricultural classes fallen into one party with
vigorous and trained leaders. If Russia is now embarking on an era of
representative government, as seems probable, she is passing through
a stage in which political parties are being crystallized. So far,
it does not appear that any considerable party is organized in the
vast empire on what we should call a conservative basis. It will be
an interesting experiment in political history if Russia has a great
peasant party in control of the administration.

The party that now controls Russia is committed to the idea of
a peace through the coöperation of the nations. It is true that
internationalism goes further than mere federation of nations; for it
also implies the socialization of industry, the equal distribution of
property. In short, it is the internationalism and unification of the
industrial classes in all nations for a combined opposition to capital.
With these aims we shall, probably, not be pleased. But they imply the
destruction of war; and it now seems possible that Russia will stand
before the world, at least until the radical elements fall before
conservatives, as the most prominent champion of coöperative peace.

As to the socialistic purpose of the internationalists, it stands
apart logically from that feature of their doctrine that relates
to the mere coöperation of nations. They would say, probably, that
coöperation is but incidental to their main desire, the unification of
the workers of the world. But it is right to expect that they would
support coöperation among the nations to obtain the destruction of
war, since it would make it easier for the world to accept their other
ideals. On the other hand the man who opposes internationalism as such,
could accept the aid of a radical Russia in obtaining federated peace,
without feeling that in doing so he was necessarily contributing to the
promotion of the socialistic features of internationalism.

This remarkable shifting of power in Russia has had its counterpart on
a less impressive scale in other countries. Whether it comes to the
point of explosion or not, there is in the minds of all--the thoughtful
people, the working-men, and all intermediate classes--a growing belief
that a new idea should rule the relations of nations among themselves.
From an age of international competition they are turning to the hope
of an era of international agreement; and it does not appear that their
influence will be unheeded when men come to face steadily the problems
the war is sure to leave behind it.

Most notable influence of all in behalf of a federated peace is the
position taken by President Wilson. In the beginning of this conflict
he had the scholar’s horror of warfare, and he has taken more than one
opportunity to suggest the formation of a league of nations to prevent
the outbreak of future wars. His address to Congress on January 22,
1917, was a notable presentation of the idea to the world. Enthusiastic
hearers pronounced the occasion a turning-point in history. Whether a
league of nations is established or not, according to the president’s
desires, his support of the idea has given it a great push forward.
He has taken it out of the realm of the ideal and made it a practical
thing, to be discussed gravely in the cabinets of rulers.

A year after the question has been brought forward, it should be
possible to form an opinion of the attitude of European nations in
regard to the suggestion. From all of them, including Germany and
Austria, have come courteous allusions to the idea of the president;
and the pope has given it his support. But it is not clear that all
are sincerely in favor of a logically constituted league that will
have power to do what it is expected to do. That President Wilson will
continue to urge steps in this direction is to be taken as certain. The
measure of his success will be the amount of hearty and substantial
support he has from that large class of people who still ask: “Can’t
something be done to stop war forever?”

When this page is being written the newspapers are full of a discussion
of the two speeches that came from the central powers on January 25,
1918, one from Chancellor von Hertling of Germany, and the other from
Count Czernin, of Austria. In the former is the following utterance:

  “I am sympathetically disposed, as my political activity shows,
  toward every idea which eliminates for the future a possibility or
  a probability of war, and will promote a peaceful and harmonious
  collaboration of nations. If the idea of a bond of nations, as
  suggested by President Wilson, proves on closer examination really
  to be conceived in a spirit of complete justice and complete
  impartiality toward all, then the imperial government is gladly
  ready, when all other pending questions have been settled, to begin
  the examination of the basis of such a bond of nations.”

This very guarded utterance means much or little, as the German rulers
may hereafter determine. By offering impossible conditions of what
they may pronounce “complete justice and complete impartiality to all”
they may be able to nullify whatever promise may be incorporated in
it. On the other hand, the sentiment, if accepted in a fair spirit
and without exaggerated demands, may be a real step toward realizing
President Wilson’s desires. If, for example, Germany should insist,
as a condition for the formation of a “bond of nations,” that Great
Britain give up her navy, or dismantle Gibraltar, while she herself
retained her immense Krupp works and her power to assemble her army at
a moment’s notice, it is hardly likely the demand would be granted. We
can best know what Germany will do in this matter when we see to what
extent she is willing to acknowledge that her war is a failure and
that her military policy is a vast and expensive affair that profits
nothing. Moreover, there is a slight sneer in the chancellor’s words,
as though he does not consider the president’s idea entirely within
the range of the diplomacy of experienced statesmen; and this is not
very promising for the outcome--unless, indeed, the logic of future
events opens his eyes to the meaning of the new spirit that the war has
aroused.

Among our own allies the suggestion of our president has found a
kinder reception. Mr. Lloyd George has announced his general support
of the proposition, and Lord Bryce and others have given it cordial
indorsement. It seems that if the United States urges the formation of
a league of peace, she will have the coöperation of Great Britain. As
to the position of France and Italy, the matter is not so clear. They
probably are too deeply impressed by the danger they will ever face
from powerful neighbors to feel warranted in dismissing their armies,
unless the best assurance is given that Germany and Austria accept
federated peace in all good faith.

As the contending nations approach that state of exhaustion which
presages an end of the war, the question of such a peace becomes
increasingly important. Everything points to the conclusion that the
time has arrived to debate this subject. If the hopes of August, 1914,
that Armageddon would be succeeded by an era of permanent peace are to
be realized, they will not come without the serious thought of men who
are willing to dare something for their ideals. And if they come out
of the present cataclysm it is time to be up and doing. The sentiment
that exists in this country, and in other countries, must be organized
and made effective at the critical moment. There is nothing more
dispiriting to the student of history than to observe as he reads how
many favorable moments for turning some happy corner in the progress
of humanity were allowed to pass without effort to utilize them. It
has been a hundred years since the world had another opportunity like
this that faces us, and if it is not now tried out to the utmost
possibility, there is little hope that the next century will be as
bloodless as the past has been, even with the present conflict included.

Every general war in Europe since the days of the Roman Empire has
brought humanity there to a state of exhaustion similar to that which
now exists. So it was with the Thirty Years’ War, with the wars
inaugurated by Louis XIV to establish the predominance of France,
and with the Napoleonic wars a century ago. Each of these struggles,
it will be observed, extended to a larger portion of Europe than its
predecessor; and it was because the common interests of nations were
progressively stronger; for it was ever becoming so that what concerned
one state concerned others. In the present war the interrelations of
nations is such that Japan and the United States have been brought into
the conflict, along with China and several of the smaller American
states. If the conflict recurs in the future it may be expected to
involve a still wider area.

There is evidence that in each of these struggles the humane men then
living were filled with the same longing for permanent peace that
many men feel today.[2] The feeling was especially strong during
the last stages of the Napoleonic wars and immediately after they
ended. Singularly enough it was strongest in Russia, due, however
to the accident that an enthusiastic and idealistic tsar was ruling
in that country. He had received his ideals from a French tutor who
was deeply imbued with the equality theories of the revolution that
swept over his own country. The tsar accepted them with sincerity and
spent several years of conscientious effort in his attempts to have
them adopted. More singularly still, they found their only sincere
indorsement, among the rulers who had the right to indorse or reject,
with the king of Prussia, who at that time was a very religious man.
Most peculiar of all they found very strong opposition in England,
where practical statesmen were in power. As I read the history of that
day and reflect on what has been the train of events from the battle of
Waterloo to the invasion of Belgium in 1914, it is hard to keep from
wishing that a better effort had been made in 1815 to carry out the
suggestion which the tsar urged on his royal brothers in Europe.

    [2] See below, pp. 46-62.

The defeat of Napoleon was purchased at immense sacrifices. To the
people of the day the most desirable thing in the world seemed to be
a prevention of his reappearance to trouble mankind. They took the
greatest care to keep his body a prisoner until he was dead; but they
did not seriously try to lay his ghost. Probably they did not think,
being practical men, that his spirit would walk again in the earth.
They were mistaken; for not only has the ghost come back, but it has
come with increased power and subtlety. In fact, it was an old ghost,
and having once inhabited the bodies of Louis XIV, Augustus Cæsar, and
Alexander of Macedon, as well as that of Napoleon I, it knew much more
than the grave gentlemen who undertook to arrange the future of Europe
in practical ways in 1815.

As we approach again the re-making of our relations after a world war,
it is worth while to glance over the things that were done in 1815,
to understand what choice of events was presented to the men of that
day, and what results came from the course they deliberately decided to
follow. Thus we may know whether or not the course proved a happy one,
and whether or not it is the course that we, also, should follow. And
if it is not such a course, we ought as thinking people to try to adopt
a better.

We should always remember that the conditions of today are more
suitable to a wise decision than the conditions of 1815. We have, for
one thing, the advantage of the experience of the past hundred years.
There is no doubt in our minds as to how the old plan has worked and
how it may be expected to work if again followed. It led to the Concert
of Europe and the Balance of Power, both of which served in certain
emergencies, but failed in the hour of supreme need. Indeed, it is
probable that they promoted the crash that at last arrived.

Another advantage is that we have today in the world a vastly greater
amount of democracy than in 1815. The people who pay the bills of Mars
today can say what shall be done about keeping Mars in chains; and that
is something they could not do in 1815. It is for them to know all his
capers, and his clever ways of getting out of prison, and to look under
his shining armor to see the grizzly hairs that cover his capacious
ribs; and having done this to decide what will be their attitude toward
him.

It is not the business of an author to offer his views to his reader
ready made. Enough if he offers the material facts out of which the
reader may form his own opinions. That is my object in this book. I
do not disguise my conviction that some of the fruits of the war that
ended at Waterloo were lost through the inexperience of the men who
set the world on its course again. Whether or not the men were as
wise as they should have been is now a profitless inquiry. My only
object is to set before the reader as clearly as I can the idea of a
permanent peace through federated action, to show how that idea came up
in connection with the war against Napoleon, how it was rejected for a
concerted and balanced international system, what came of the decision
in the century that followed, and finally in what way the failure of
the old system is responsible for the present war. If the reader will
follow me through these considerations, he will be prepared to examine
in a judicial spirit the arguments for and against President Wilson’s
suggested union of nations to end war.

As these introductory remarks are written, we seem to be girding up
our loins again with the firm conviction that we cannot talk of peace
until Germany knows she is beaten. The decision is eminently wise. But
if it is worth while to fight two or ten years more to crush Germany’s
confidence in her military policy, how much ought it not to be worth to
make the nations realize that if they really wish to destroy war they
can do it by taking two steps: first, end this struggle in a spirit of
amity; and second, make an effective agreement to preserve that state
of amity by preventing the occurrence of the things and feelings that
disturb it. That is the task as well as the opportunity of wise men,
who can govern themselves; and it is for their information that this
volume is written which undertakes to point out “The Lost Fruits of
Waterloo” and the conditions under which we may seek to recover them.
It is not a book of propaganda, unless facts are propagandists. It is
not a pacifist book, although its pages may make for peace, if God
wills. It is only a plain statement of the lessons of history as they
appear to one of the many thousands of puzzled persons now habitants of
this globe who are trying to grope their ways out of this fog of folly.




CHAPTER II

EARLY ADVOCATES OF UNIVERSAL PEACE


Those who have tried to point the world to universal peace may be
divided into two schools: one advocating a form of coöperation in
which the final reliance is to be reason, the other looking forward to
some effective form of common action behind which shall be sufficient
force to carry out the measures necessary to enforce the common will.
It is convenient to describe the former group as advocating a league
of peace, since we are generally agreed that a league is a form of
concert from which the constituent members may withdraw at will, and
in which does not reside power to force them to do what they do not
find reasonable. The second group wish to have a federation, if by that
term we understand a united group in which exists power sufficient to
preserve the common cause against any possible disobedient member.
To form a league is easier than to form a federation. States are
tenacious of sovereignty. The Swiss cantons, the Dutch provinces, and
the original thirteen states of North America are the most striking
illustrations of states that were willing to submit themselves to the
more strenuous process of union. They acted under stress of great
common peril, and their first steps in federation were short and timid;
but none of them have regretted that the steps were taken. It was the
good fortune of these groups of states that they were able to unite
at the proper time and that their actions were not overclouded by the
counsel of “practical statesmen” to whom ideals were things to be
distrusted.

In other states in periods of great distress from war men lived who
dreamed of coöperation to promote peace, but their voices were too weak
for the times. The most notable early advocate of this scheme was the
Duke of Sully, if we may accept the notion that he wrote the work known
as the _Grand Design_ of Henry IV. In that plan was contemplated a
Christian Republic, composed of fifteen states in Europe, only three of
which were to have a republican form of government. They were to give
up warring among themselves and to refer to a common council, modeled
on the Ionic League, all matters of interstate relation that were of
importance to the “very Christian Republic.” The only war this republic
was to wage was the common war to expel the Turks from Europe. It was
after Henry’s death that Sully published the plan with the assertion
that his former master had formed it just after the treaty of Vervins,
1598.

Whether it was the work of king or duke, no attempt was made to put it
into force. In 1598 Europe was in the throes of a long and hopeless
struggle for religion. Cities were destroyed, men and women were
butchered, and the safety of states was threatened. The _Grand Design_
represents the reaction of either Henry’s or Sully’s mind against such
a terror. It was a thing to be desired, if it could have been attained.
One of the marks of peace that it displayed was the attitude it took
towards the branches of the Christian faith. Complete tolerance was to
exist for the three forms, Catholicism, Lutheranism, and Calvinism.
This was a kind of idealism that was then unattainable; but in the
course of time it has been achieved. I should not like to say the day
will not come when the other side of the scheme, interstate peace, will
also cease to be too ideal for realization.

The next important suggestion of union for peace was made by William
Penn in 1693 in an _Essay towards the Present and Future Peace of
Europe_. At that time the Continent was racked with war--a result of
the ambition of Louis XIV to raise France to a dominating position
among the other nations--, the Palatinate had been devastated, and
the will of the “Grand Monarch” was the dreaded fact in international
politics. Penn realized that great sacrifices were ahead; for it was as
true then as now that when a strong state rises to a position in which
it can threaten universal rule, there is nothing for the other states
but to combine and fight as long as they can.

Penn’s proposal was that the sovereigns of Europe should form a Great
Diet in which all their disputes should be adjusted. If any state
refused to submit to the judgment of the diet and appealed to arms,
all the other states were to fall upon it with their armies and make
it rue the course it had taken. Quaker though he was, he would have
war to prevent war. His proposal made no impression on his “practical”
contemporaries; but he was prepared for that. Men of his faith were
used to “bearing testimony” in the expectation that “the world” would
scoff. Although it was not included in the original folio edition of
his works this essay remains to this day the best known thing he wrote.
It is one of the most logical arguments for peace that we have.

From 1701 to 1714 was waged the War of the Spanish Succession, the last
of the series of struggles in which Louis XIV wore out his kingdom in
trying to make it supreme over its neighbors. It left France exhausted
and miserable, and it had not realized the king’s ambition. In 1713,
the year in which Louis was forced to accept the Treaty of Utrecht in
token of his defeat, was published by the Abbé Castel de St. Pierre
a book called _Projet de Traité pour rendre la Paix Perpetuelle_.
Like the utterances of Sully and Penn, it was wrung out of the mind
of the author by the ruin that lay around him. It differed from them
in nothing but in its more abundant details. The abbé had taken many
things into account, and the union of nations that he proposed was to
do six important things.

1. There was to be a perpetual alliance of European rulers with a diet
composed of plenipotentiary agents in which disputed points were to
be settled amicably. 2. What sovereigns were to be admitted to the
alliance was to be determined by the act of alliance, which was also to
fix the proportion in which each should contribute to the common fund.
3. The union was to guarantee the sovereignty of the constituent states
with existing boundaries, and future disputes of this nature were to
be referred to the arbitration of the council. 4. States offending
against the laws of the diet were to be put under the ban of Europe.
5. A state under the ban was to be coërced by the other states until
it accepted the laws it had violated. 6. The council was to make such
laws, on instruction from the sovereigns, as were thought necessary to
the objects for which the perpetual alliance was created.

Like the two preceding plans the abbé’s scheme was too strong to be
rated as a league. It does not allow us to think that a state could
withdraw at pleasure from the alliance; and it gave to the council the
authority to lay taxes, make laws that were binding, and punish defiant
members. It is noteworthy for the large amount of power it gave to the
sovereigns, since the members of the council were their agents and
acted only on instructions. Under the prevalent notions of the divine
right of kings no other method of selecting the members of the council
would have been considered in France, Spain, or Germany. On the other
hand, the abbé’s scheme was less liberal in this respect than Penn’s,
which provided that the wisest and justest men in each nation should be
sent to the council. It was also a part of Penn’s plan that the council
should be a really deliberative body, a parliament of Europe as truly
as there was in England a parliament of the realm.

We have no evidence that the arguments of the good abbé made a profound
impression upon any of the sovereigns upon whose favor the scheme
depended. The Treaty of Utrecht was followed by a season of peace. So
deeply wounded was Europe by conflict that it had no stomach for war
during a generation. It was a time of great industrial prosperity in
England, France, and Prussia. Walpole, the wise guardian of peaceful
society, dominated the first of these nations, Fleury, also a man of
peace, was for a large part of the time the guiding hand in the second,
and Frederic William I directed the development of the third with
a sure sense of economy and the efficient use of resources. At the
same time Austria was under the direction of Charles VI, a peaceful
monarch who had too many anxieties at home to think of wars against
the Christian sovereigns around him. The small struggles that occurred
were without significance; and it was not until 1740, when a new
generation was on the scene, that Europe again had a period of general
war, precipitated by an imaginative young king who could not resist the
temptation to use the excellent tool with which his father had provided
him. Out of the twenty years’ struggle that now followed, no new plan
arose for a system of coöperation to secure peace, but one of the great
philosophers of the time made a new statement of the Abbé St. Pierre’s
plan, which served as a new proposition.

It was during the last years of the Seven Years’ War that Rousseau
received the papers of the good abbé, with the expectation that he
would prepare them for publication in a more popular form than the
twenty-one volumes in which the author’s thoughts were buried. He
eventually gave up the task, but he produced two short summaries,
one of which was entitled _Extrait du Projet de Paix perpetuelle de
M. L’Abbé de Saint-Pierre_. The “extract” proper was followed by a
“judgment” in which Rousseau voiced his own views. He advocated the
creation of a confederacy mutually dependent, no state to be permitted
to resist all the other states united nor to form an alliance with any
other state in rivalry with the confederacy. The scope of the central
authority was defined, and there was to be a legislature to make laws
in amplification of that authority, such laws to be administered by a
federal court. No state was to withdraw from the union. Thus, Rousseau
made his proposed confederacy rest on force. In his mind it was to be
vitally efficient government, capable of doing all it was created to do.

All the plans I have mentioned contemplated the creation of a central
authority strong enough to make itself obeyed. They implied, therefore,
that each constituent state should relinquish a part of its sovereignty
in order to form the federation. Now this was, as at the present time,
a strong objection to the scheme. No one has met it better than William
Penn, who said:

  “I am come now to the last Objection, _That Sovereign Princes
  and States will hereby become not Sovereign: a Thing they will
  never endure_. But this also, under Correction, is a Mistake, for
  they remain as Sovereign at Home as ever they were. Neither their
  Power over their People, nor the usual Revenue they pay them,
  is diminished: It may be the War Establishment may be reduced,
  which will indeed of Course follow, or be better employed to the
  Advantage of the Publick. So that the _Soveraignties_ are as they
  were, for none of them have now any Soveraignty over one another:
  And if this be called a lessening of their Power, it must be only
  because the great Fish can no longer eat up the little ones, and
  that each Soveraignty is _equally defended_ from Injuries, and
  disabled from committing them.”

A quarter of a century later, in the beginning of the French
Revolution, Jeremy Bentham, the English philosopher, advocated the
union of states in behalf of common peace, but he rested his argument
on morality, not on force. There was to be a league of states,
with a legislature and courts of justice, but the decisions were to
be executed by the states themselves. He held that after the court
gave a decision in a specified case and published the evidence and
arguments, public opinion would be strong enough to enforce the
judgment. By discarding force Bentham had the advantage of preserving
the sovereignty of the states, a thing that is particularly esteemed by
an Englishman. He is to be considered the first of a series of eminent
peace advocates who look no further than a league of states bound
together by their plighted word and relying on the weight of public
opinion to coërce the individual states.

He had given his life to the task of fixing the sway of law in the
minds of humanity, and it was a part of his general idea that a high
court of justice, investigating a controversy, and exposing all the
sides of it before a world of fair minded observers, would lessen the
asperity of opposing passions so that the verdict of the court would be
received as saving credit and honor to the party who had to yield. It
is out of this attitude that our whole doctrine of arbitration as an
expedient for escaping war has its rise, a doctrine of such importance
in our general subject that no peace advocate would dare reject it
wholly.

Bentham’s opinion was expressed in a stray pamphlet that made little
impression in his time and has nearly escaped the notice of posterity.
A more conspicuous achievement, and nearly contemporary, was an essay
by Immanuel Kant, philosopher at Königsberg, in Prussia. In 1795 he
published _Zum ewigen Frieden_, an outline for a league of perpetual
peace. There was a time, he argued, when men lived by force under the
laws of nature, each regulating his own conduct toward his neighbors,
the strongest man having his way through his ability to overawe his
associates. Then came the state and the rule of law, and with their
arrival one saw the exit of personal combat. Kant applied the same
argument to the intercourse of the nations, saying they were in a state
of nature toward one another. He proposed to organize a super-state
over them, with authority to bring them under a law prohibiting wars
among themselves. He would assign a definite field of action to the new
power, with the function of making laws in enforcing that authority,
and it would have the necessary administrative and judicial officers.
The law made by the united government was to be as good law for its own
purposes as the law made by the individual states for their purposes.

Kant’s suggestion was closely kin to Rousseau’s ideas of the state,
but he wrote at a time when the world, stampeded by the excesses
of the Jacobins, was turning away from all the political theories
that underlay the French Revolution. It had no use for the idea that
government was the outcome of a social contract; and if this idea was
not accepted for the state itself, how much less would it be accepted
as a means of organizing the international state! The world suffered
too much at the hands of Napoleon to like ideas that were responsible
for the very beginning of the letting out of the waters. And this was
especially true in Prussia, where the foot of the French conqueror was
extremely heavy.

At the moment when Kant’s ideas were at the height of unpopularity
came the young philosopher, Hegel, who announced a philosophical
view of war that pleased the governing class of Prussia, bent on
establishing a system of military training that would be sufficient
for a redeemed country. He taught that war through action burns away
moral excrescences, purifies the health of society, and stimulates
the growth of manly virtue. This idea became the basis of much German
reasoning, and it is not improbable that its defenders in trying to
discern the virtues they argued for, were led to develop them. But in
their enthusiasm they came to exaggerate these virtues into habits that
were often mere manifestations of an exalted egoism. As to the claim
that war burns up the effete products of society, it may be met by the
undeniable assertion that it also burns much that is best. One does not
burn a city to destroy the vermin that are in it.

The next attempt to bring about a system of coöperation to secure
peace among the nations was the formation of the Holy Alliance, a
futile attempt to apply principles like those just described, made by
Alexander I, of Russia, at the close of the Napoleonic wars. It is
considered at length in the chapter following this, where it finds
its proper setting. The extremely religious spirit in which it was
conceived was a drawback to success, but it is not likely that it
would have fared better than it did fare, even if stripped of all its
pious fantasy, since the world was not educated to its acceptance as a
purely political idea.

At this stage one must notice the development of peace societies.
Organized at first as local bodies they were drawn together into
national organizations in the early decades of the nineteenth century.
It was in 1816 that such a society was created in Great Britain, and in
1828 that the American Peace Society was formed out of local societies
in the United States. In the same year was established at Geneva the
first peace society on the Continent, the second being organized at
Paris in 1841. The influence of such societies was weak for a long
time; but within the past twenty years it has been much stronger.

One of the most striking examples of the prevalence of the peace
idea in recent times is the growing use of arbitration as a means
of settling international disputes. Another is the meeting of the
Hague conferences to promote peace. The first was called by the tsar,
Nicholas II, in 1899 and laid a broad outline of the work that
such conferences ought to do. A second assembled in the year 1907,
and a third was about to convene when the Great War began in 1914.
The conferences devoted their strongest efforts to the reduction of
armaments and the checking of militarism; but in each case they found
the German Empire planted boldly across their path, and in this respect
their efforts were futile. It is not to be doubted that the attitude of
Germany contributed much to develop the widespread suspicion of that
country which has been one of her handicaps in the present war.

The “peace movement,” as the totality of these activities is called,
has thus gained strength, and it would seem that it must eventually
prevail in public opinion. It received an important momentum in
1910, when Mr. Andrew Carnegie gave $10,000,000 to establish the
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, an organization which has
contributed powerfully to the promotion of peace ideas. It acts on
scientific principles, seeking to gather and publish such facts bearing
on international relations, the laws of economics and history, and the
science of international law, as will show in what respect war is to be
removed from its hold on society.

The careless enthusiasm with which a great many people hailed the
outbreak of war in 1914 swept the peace advocates into the background
and was the occasion of some sarcasm at their expense. But as the
struggle grew in grimness and horrors the advocates of peace on
principle returned to their old position in public esteem, and have
steadily gained on it. It seems undeniable that the war has done more
to convince the world of the madness of war than many decades of
agitation could do.

One of the manifestations of the rebound here mentioned was the
organization in June, 1915, of “The League to Enforce Peace.” This
society was created in a meeting of representative men assembled in
Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia, the place in which the Declaration
of Independence was adopted. Its principles are embraced in the
following proposals: 1. A judicial tribunal to which will be referred
judiciable disputes between the signatory powers, subject to existing
treaties, the tribunals to have power to pass on the merits of the
disputes submitted as well as on its jurisdiction over them. 2. The
reference of other disputes between the signatory states to a council
of conciliation, which will hear the cases submitted and recommend
settlements in accordance with its ideas of justice. 3. If any
signatory state threatens war before its case is submitted to the
judicial tribunal or the council of conciliation, the other states will
jointly employ diplomatic pressure to prevent war; and if hostilities
actually begin under such circumstances they will jointly use their
military forces against the power in contempt of the league. 4. The
signatory states will from time to time hold conferences to formulate
rules of international law which are to be executed by the tribunal of
arbitration unless within a stated time some state vetoes the proposal.

The system of coöperation embodied in these proposals is not a
federation, within the meaning that I have given to that term. It is
what it pretends to be, merely a league. It seems to concede the right
of a state to secede from the league at will. As to what would happen
under it if a signatory state refusing to abide the decision of the
tribunal or council of conciliation should attempt to withdraw and
make war at once, we can have little doubt. In such a case the attempt
to secede would probably be considered defiance and steps be taken to
reduce the state to submission. Nevertheless it might happen that a
state within the league, finding its action restricted so that it could
not adopt some policy which it considered essential to its welfare,
might proceed to withdraw in view of a line of conduct it intended
to take at a later time. In that case it is difficult to see how the
league could resist unless it was willing to take the position that it
had a kind of sovereignty over all interstate relations, a position
that involves more concentration than the form of the league seems to
imply.

At this point in our inquiry into the subject of coöperation to secure
universal peace an inviting field of speculation opens before us, but
we must turn aside for the time, in order to consider various phases
of the process by which the world has arrived at the crisis now before
it. This chapter will serve its purpose if it gives the reader a view
of the earliest suggestions of systems of common action and if it makes
clear the differences between the two general plans that have been
formulated, the league and the federation.




CHAPTER III

PROBLEMS OF THE NAPOLEONIC WARS


The career of Napoleon, which has long commanded the greatest interest,
not to say enthusiasm, of students of history, aroused grave fears in
the minds of most of the thoughtful men of his day who did not live
in France. His design to conquer all his neighbors was most evident,
and his apparent ability to carry it into execution caused him to
be regarded as the embodiment of greed and insatiable ambition. Not
since the days of Louis XIV had Europe felt such thrills of danger and
horror. All its energy was called into play to withstand his attacks.
Wars followed wars in a series of campaigns that ended after many years
of extreme anxiety in his ruin, only when France had been worn out
by his repeated victories. When he began his wars he was at the head
of the best prepared nation in the world. He struck with sudden and
vigorous blows against nations that were not united, defeating one
after the other with startling effect. Their lack of preparation was
most marked and was probably the most effective cause of his initial
success. After years of conflict they learned how to oppose him. From
his own example they learned the value of organization and method in
fighting, and from their own disasters they at last acquired the sense
of union that was necessary to give him the final blow that made him
no longer a menace to their national integrity. It was not until 1815
that he was finally defeated and reduced to the state of ineffective
personal power from which he had risen.

From the beginning of the struggle he was to his opponents the
incarnation of all that was hateful in government. Few of the epithets
now hurled at the kaiser were not as lavishly cast at Napoleon. He was
tyrant, robber, brute, and murderer in turn, and it was pronounced a
service to humanity to suppress him. In the beginning of the wars his
pretensions were treated with disdain, but as his victories followed
one another in bewildering rapidity, his power was treated with more
respect, although there was no greater disposition to contemplate
his triumph with complacency. As the struggle became fiercer, the
other states than France began to think of some permanent form of
coöperation for restraining him; and they even began to speculate on
the possibility of some permanent arrangement by which the world might
be saved from a recurrence of such a vast waste of life and treasure as
was involved in the struggle. It was thus that suggestions were made
during the Napoleonic era for abolishing war through international
effort. For us, who are today burdened with the ruin of a similar
but more stupendous struggle, these efforts have a special interest,
and the space of a single chapter is none too much to give to their
consideration.

It is singular that these plans should have found their most
conspicuous supporters in the heads of the two governments most widely
apart with reference to the popular character of their institutions.
It was in autocratic Russia that one found the most advanced idea of
dealing with the future, and in Great Britain, the most liberal of
the great powers, that the most conservative design was held. Each
plan was supported by the head of these two governments respectively,
each ran through its own development while the armies were locked in
deadly struggle, and each was debated with seriousness in the moment of
victory when the statesmen of the winning powers met to arrange for the
future relations of the states whose victories made them the arbiters
of Europe.

The initiative was taken by Alexander I, of Russia. He was a man
of the best intentions, and throughout the period with which we
are now dealing he showed himself persistently favorable to views
which, to say the least, were a hundred years ahead of his time. By
temperament he was imaginative and sympathetic. In his personal life
were irregularities, but not as many as in Napoleon’s, Louis XIV’s,
or Talleyrand’s. He lacked the royal vice of despotism, and his
escape from it was probably due to the influence of Fréderic César
de La Harpe, an instructor of his youth, who arrived in Russia with
his head full of the dynamic ideas of the French philosophers of the
pre-revolutionary period.

While “liberty, equality, and fraternity” maddened France, long
oppressed by the dull repression of the ancient régime, La Harpe was
converting his royal pupil to the doctrine of the “Rights of Man.” So
well was the lesson taught that a long series of encounters with the
solid wall of Russian autocracy was necessary before the pupil ceased
to try to do something to ameliorate the condition of his people.
Historians have called Alexander a dreamer, but what is a man to do
who is born a tsar and has the misfortune to believe in the doctrines
for which we honor Lincoln and Jefferson? I am willing to call him
impractical, but I cannot withhold sympathy from a man who tried, as
he, to strike blows in behalf of the forms of government which makes my
own country a home of liberty.

Alexander I came to the throne of Russia in 1801, anxious to carry
out his liberal plans.[3] In 1804, through his minister in London, he
suggested to Pitt, the prime minister, a plan for settling the affairs
of Europe after the defeat of Napoleon. France, he said, must be made
to realize that the allies did not war against her people but against
Napoleon, from whose false power they proposed to set her free. Once
liberated she was to be allowed to choose any government she desired.
From La Harpe he had imbibed a deep repugnance to the government of the
Bourbons, and in all his future discussions of the subject he showed no
enthusiasm for restoring that line to their throne.

    [3] For an excellent treatment of the events discussed in this
        chapter see W. A. Phillips, _The Confederation of Europe_,
        London, 1914.

One of the charges often made by the allies was that Napoleon overthrew
international law. It was a part of Alexander’s plan to reëstablish its
potency and to have the nations see to it that no future violations
of it could occur. He also suggested that the firm agreement then
existing between Russia and Great Britain should continue after the
establishment of peace and that other great powers should be brought
into it so that there should be a means of securing common action in
affairs of mutual significance. At this time he had not, it seems,
fully determined just what form of coöperation ought to be adopted,
but in the suggestion of 1804 can be found the germ of all his later
designs for permanent peace.

At that moment Pitt was looking for the renewal of the European war
and he expected the formation of the great coalition of 1805, in which
Russia, Great Britain, Austria, and Sweden undertook to defeat France.
He did not dare, therefore, reject the tsar’s proposals outright.
He gave approval to the suggestion in regard to the restoration of
international law, but he qualified his sanction of the scheme for a
future league of nations. Napoleon crushed, he said, it would be for
the states to guarantee such an adjustment of European affairs as they
should agree upon in solemn treaty. Looking into these two statements
it is seen that the tsar had in mind the formation of some kind of
league of nations, with well defined powers and duties, while Pitt
looked forward to that kind of international coöperation which was
later described by the term “Concert of Europe.” In the subsequent
dealing of Alexander with the British leaders over this matter there
was always this difference between them.

In 1807 Napoleon won the battle of Friedland over Russia and occupied
a large part of the tsar’s domain. Then came the Treaty of Tilsit
in which Alexander and Napoleon standing face to face came to an
unexpected agreement to divide the accessible part of the world between
them, Alexander ruling one half and Napoleon ruling the other. It is
certain, however, that the tsar had in his mind that both he and his
new ally would rule their respective halves in the spirit of La Harpe’s
teaching. Napoleon baited his trap with no less attractive a morsel
than self-government under a wise monarch in order to catch Alexander I.

The Moscow campaign brought the tsar to his senses. He himself said
that it was the burning of the ancient city, 1812, that illuminated
his mind and enabled him to see the true character of the Corsican.
For five years he had been lulled into inactivity by the belief
that some form of permanent peace was coming to the world through
Napoleon. He now realized that he had been duped, and after making
due acknowledgment of his error turned to the task of destroying the
deceiver. From that time he did not waver in his determination.

Russia and Great Britain were thus in close alliance, and immediately
began consideration of a permanent alliance looking toward a
regulation of affairs in Europe after the war was ended. The British
cabinet took up the question and in 1813 passed a resolution in which
occurs the following declaration: “The Treaty of Alliance [between the
states which were united against Napoleon] is not to terminate with the
war, but is to contain defensive engagements, with mutual obligations
to support the Power attacked by France with a certain extent of
stipulated succors. The _casus foederis_ is to be an attack by France
on the European dominions of any one of the contracting parties.”[4]
This provision was kept secret for the time, but it remained the basis
of the British policy throughout the negotiations that followed.
Castlereagh, in ability and character the greatest statesman of his
day, was then at the head of the British cabinet, and it seems certain
that he inspired its policy.

    [4] Phillips, _loc. cit._, 67.

He was already suspicious of the position of the tsar in reference
to France. That sovereign had in no way relaxed his friendship for
the French people. Hating the Bourbons he would have prevented their
restoration to the throne, and he had a project for allowing the French
to determine whom they would have for king after Napoleon. If he could
carry this plan through he would make himself very popular in France
and would have a strong position with the ruler whose selection he
should thus make possible. To Castlereagh this was nothing but a shrewd
piece of policy for laying the foundation of a Franco-Russian alliance
which would have overweening influence in Europe, and he set himself
against its execution. He was forced to proceed cautiously, however,
since Napoleon was not beaten and the aid of the tsar was essential.
There is nothing to suggest that Alexander did not entertain his
French views in all singleness of purpose. The worst his enemies said
of him was that he was a dreamer; but he was not given to a policy of
calculation.

To thwart Alexander and carry through his own views Castlereagh set
himself to “group” the tsar, that is, to draw him into an agreement
with other sovereigns in which such a policy was accepted as would
serve to deflect the whole group of allies from the direct course which
the tsar would have followed if left alone. Early in 1814 a treaty was
signed at Chaumont by Great Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia
in which all the problems then before the allies were taken up. The
sixteenth article of the treaty dealt with the point which had caused
Castlereagh so much anxiety. It ran:

  “The present Treaty of Alliance having for its object the
  maintenance of the Balance of Europe, to secure the repose and
  independence of the Powers, and to prevent the invasions which
  for so many years have devastated the world, the High Contracting
  Parties have agreed among themselves to extend its duration for
  twenty years from the date of signature, and they reserve the right
  of agreeing, if circumstances demand it, three years before its
  expiration, on its further prolongation.”[5]

    [5] Phillips, _loc. cit._, 78.

By this means Alexander was “grouped” with his three allies in the
support of a kind of coöperation which was not what he had hitherto
insisted upon. It is probable that he did not realize how completely
he was outplayed, when he was forced by the logic of events to set his
hand to a treaty that provided for the Concert of Europe, and not for
the league to which he had long looked forward. At any rate, he did
not give up his ideals and he seems to have thought that in the hour
of victory he could do what he had not been able to do in the hour of
necessity.

The Treaty of Chaumont was followed by the battle of Leipzig, and that
was followed by several smaller battles in which the allies fought
their way through French territory until they stood before the gates
of Paris in the autumn of 1814. Napoleon fled the Nemesis that had
overtaken him, the city was opened to his enemies, and Alexander I,
at the head of his splendid guard, led the conquering army down the
broad avenue of Champs Elysée, the inhabitants of the city cheering
the radiant pageant. Men reflected that two years earlier a great
French army had penetrated to the Russian city of Moscow and found it
smoking ruins; and they could but observe the contrast. It was worthy
of the greatness of the tsar of the Russias to show a generous face
to a beaten foe; and the Frenchmen were gallant enough to receive the
friendship of the tsar in the spirit in which it was given. A lenient
treaty by which France was saved from humiliation and Napoleon was
given Elba, was also due chiefly to the good will of Alexander. An
Englishman on the spot, who did not see things with the broad vision
of the prime minister, wrote that the tsar “by a series of firm and
glorious conduct has richly deserved the appellation of the liberator
of mankind.” But as Alexander continued to “play the part of Providence
in France” the same writer became alarmed and five days later wrote to
London urging that Castlereagh come to the French capital. The hint was
taken, and soon the manly stride of the handsome tsar was intercepted
by the deftly woven webs of the skilled diplomat. Erelong France was
handed over to the Bourbons, who came back to show that they had
learned nothing and forgotten nothing.

The center of interest now shifted to the Congress of Vienna, whose
sessions lasted from September 10, 1814, to June 9, 1815. Europe
had looked forward to it for many years as the means of effecting a
wise and just reform in all the evils that afflicted the continent.
“Men had promised themselves,” said Gentz, “an all-embracing reform
of the political system of Europe, guarantees for universal peace,
in one word, the return of the golden age.” Thus Alexander was not
entirely ahead of his time. There were enlightened men then, as
now, who hoped for a spirit that would rise above mere diplomatic
self-interest; and we may look upon the tsar as their exponent. But
they were to be disappointed. Spoils were to be divided and in the
disputes that the expected division engendered, the spirit of reform
was dissipated. Alexander spent his energy in trying to reëstablish
the kingdom of Poland with liberal institutions, but his desire that
it should be under his protection aroused the keenest opposition from
the neighboring nations. If a victorious Russia stood as protector of
a reëstablished France and a renewed Poland, who could foretell her
power in future dealings among nations? Considering the extent to which
jealousy carried the contentions of the states at Vienna, it is enough
that the congress did not break up in an appeal to arms.

Gentz, whom we recall as the secretary of the congress, was one of the
men who had entertained hopes that it would give a new and better form
to the political structure of Europe. He avowed his disappointment at
the results in saying:

  “The Congress has resulted in nothing but restorations, which had
  already been effected by arms, agreements between the Great Powers
  of little value for the future balance and preservation of the
  peace of Europe, quite arbitrary alterations in the possessions of
  the smaller states; but no act of a higher nature, no great measure
  for public order or for the general good, which might compensate
  humanity for its long sufferings or pacify it for the future....
  But to be just, the treaty, such as it is, has the undeniable
  merit of having prepared the world for a more complete political
  structure. If ever the Powers should meet again to establish a
  political system by which wars of conquest would be rendered
  impossible, and the rights of all guaranteed, the Congress of
  Vienna, as a preparatory assembly, will not have been without use.
  A number of vexatious details have been settled, and the ground has
  been prepared for building up a better social structure.”[6]

    [6] See Phillips, _loc. cit._, 118.

Looking back over the past century it is hard to find justification for
Gentz’s optimism. The respite that Europe had for a generation from war
was due in a sense to the lesson learned in the Napoleonic struggle;
but it was not a permanent lesson. We shall proceed to examine the
expedients that came to be used for the end specified; but it is
certain that they did not achieve permanently the end desired. Had the
Congress of Vienna done all that was expected of it, the world might
today be at peace. If not at peace, we might at least say that the men
of the Congress did all they could to secure peace.

If we ask for the fundamental cause of the failure of the Congress of
Vienna to satisfy the hopes of liberal men in constructing what Gentz
called “a more complete political structure,” the answer must lie in
the illiberal views of the ruling classes in the European states.
Self-government was less developed than in the most conservative state
of today. Had the people of these states been in power, and had they
been to a fair degree trained in the principles of good government, the
result could hardly have been as it was. But the ignorant bureaucrats
and arbitrary rulers were in power, men who in their own lives never
knew the burdens of war, and to whom national egotism appeared a high
virtue; and they thought only of gaining territory for their states.
They placed such things above the high opportunity to reform the
political structure of Europe. They turned to the future with the old
principles still dominant, hoping that by a system of concert among the
great states they could stave off war for an indefinitely long period.
They could place self-interest against self-interest, forgetting that
a time was likely to come when self-interest might lead the strongest
to dare the rest of the world, hoping to move quickly in a moment
of temporary advantage and thus gain ends that only the most severe
sacrifices could take away. But that is a story reserved for another
chapter.

Before we take up the Concert of Europe we must deal with the Holy
Alliance, which, though but an interlude in the play, is so frequently
mentioned in the books that it cannot be omitted from this discussion.
It was signed at Paris, November 20, 1815, and may be considered only
one of the forms in which the tsar’s ideal was embodied. Its religious
character made it the butt of ridicule for the “practical” statesmen
of the day, and the historian has been prone to look at it from their
standpoint. But it was then popular to express political principles in
religious phrases, and the alliance is to be interpreted by the purpose
that lay underneath, rather than by the mere form in which it was set
forth.

As we have seen, Alexander I had formulated his plan for a league of
states long before the end of the war. He had relaxed his intentions in
no sense when he met Baroness Krüdener in June, 1815. This remarkable
woman, though nobly born, was a religious enthusiast who to the faculty
of intense conviction added the gift of preaching. Wherever she went
she found followers who hung on her words and yielded themselves to
her impassioned appeals for religious devotion. In the height of her
enthusiasm she came to think that she had revelations from God. Many
a popular revivalist of recent times could be compared with her; and
if we are tolerant of their undoubtedly well-meant efforts to stir
humanity to righteousness, we may allow her also a fair share of our
esteem as a would-be agent of good through the employment of human
means to attain human ends.

Like the other religious teachers of the day she was deeply impressed
by the calamities of the war. She knew of the tsar’s desire to
establish a régime of peace and came to believe she was divinely called
to induce him to take a conspicuous step in that direction. At first
Alexander, who was not always religious, refused to see her; but in
June, 1815, an interview was arranged while he was at Heilbron, on the
campaign. He was deeply impressed and asked her to remain near him.
When he went to Paris after the second defeat of Napoleon she was given
quarters near his palace, and it was there, in the following autumn,
that he drew up the plan of the Holy Alliance.

The “Alliance” was expressed in the spirit of a mediæval religious
brotherhood. The signatory sovereigns pledged themselves to take the
will of God for highest law, to give aid to an imperiled brother
sovereign, and to hold the Alliance as “a true and indissoluble
fraternity.” The constituent states were to make “one great Christian
nation” and their sovereigns were to act “as delegates of Providence”
in ruling their respective states. If such an ideal could have been
accomplished at all, a stronger grip of the church on the springs of
government would have been necessary than existed in that day. The tsar
proclaimed the Holy Alliance on November 26, 1815. It was signed by
all the states of Europe except Turkey, Great Britain, and the Papal
State. Great Britain’s refusal to sign was due to Castlereagh, to whom
the tsar seemed mentally unbalanced. He gave as his justification that
the prince-regent, ruling in the place of his insane father, had no
authority to sign, but said that he would support the principles of the
Alliance. As it was to be a union of Christian states the sultan was
not invited to sign. The Pope was not asked because of his overwhelming
influence in matters connected with religion. Frederick William, of
Prussia, was a religious man and is believed to have signed in good
faith. Metternich advised the emperor of Austria to sign but said that
the document was mere verbiage.

In all I have said hitherto about the tsar’s idea of preserving peace
no definite plan has been mentioned. His most specific utterance was
to ask for a league of nations, but he said nothing of its powers, its
specific organization, or the limits of its action. The suggestion
was vague, probably because the mind of its author was itself vague.
If taken seriously it could be made to serve as the foundation of a
unified state of Europe which might hold all other states under its
hand, a unified state largely under the domination of Russia. That its
author had no such object in view is not to be doubted for an instant;
but who could tell how long he would remain in his existing state of
mind, and how soon he might be succeeded by a tsar of far other spirit?
As a plan for permanent peace the Holy Alliance was impossible, not
only because it was cast in religious forms and thrown to a world in
which the authority of religion had lost much of its ancient hold on
the minds of men of influence, but because its indefinite form made it
a possible instrument of greater evils than war.

Beneath its defects, however, was the great idea of a unified Europe,
in which justice has the place of suspicion and intrigue, in which runs
one law, one order, and one obedience to the majesty of the state.
Alexander not only believed in such an ideal, but he was willing to
cast his nation into the melting-pot in order to fuse such a state.
He could have given no better proof of his support of his ideal. Of
course, it was ahead of the time, how much so it is hard to say. The
widespread popular longing for permanent peace would have gone far in
accepting unification of the states, and in this sphere of opinion the
religious cast of the scheme was not a great disadvantage. The thing
which stood firmly in its way was the dull practicality of the upper,
ruling class. If it could have passed these lions in the way, it might
have had a chance of working its way forward into some acceptable form
of a league in perpetuity. But it is a big _if_ that I have used. Upper
ruling classes know more about government than the lower classes, and
that is a source of conservatism. The lower classes, knowing little,
usually act upon their impulses; the members of the upper, ruling
class, having information in varying degrees, usually strike an average
of mediocre enlightenment, and it is a difficult thing for a new idea
to gain possession of them. In 1815 the upper, ruling class was well
settled in power in Europe, and it was most convinced of its superior
wisdom. It never accepted the tsar’s plan; and failing to get its
acceptance the plan was futile.




CHAPTER IV

EUROPE UNDER THE CONCERT OF THE POWERS


Having disposed of Alexander’s plan for a federation of nations it now
remains to consider the other plan which, under the name of “Concert of
Europe,” was adopted by Castlereagh and Metternich, though not for the
same purpose as that which had inspired the tsar. Its fundamental idea
had been in the positions taken by Pitt and Castlereagh when replying
to the tsar’s proposals, but it found its official basis in a Treaty
of Alliance signed by Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia at
Paris, November 20, 1815, the same day they accepted the Holy Alliance.
Its chief provisions were as follows: 1. The Powers bound themselves to
see that the second treaty of Paris, regulating affairs between France
and the allies, was executed. 2. They agreed to meet from time to time
to take cognizance of the state of affairs in Europe. 3. They promised
to suppress any recurrence of the revolutionary activity of France. 4.
They settled upon the quota of men and supplies that each nation should
furnish in case common action became necessary. 5. They undertook to
“consolidate the intimate tie which unites the four sovereigns for the
happiness of the world.” The most important of these provisions for the
purpose of this inquiry was the second, taken in connection with the
fifth.

The first meeting that may be said to have been called under the
agreement was the Conference of Aix-la-Chapelle, in 1818. It was called
to determine whether or not France should be relieved of her garrisons
of occupation, a matter which was soon adjusted. Alexander I saw his
opportunity and urged that the sovereigns should take steps to make the
Holy Alliance a more vital kind of league. But Castlereagh interposed,
as in former meetings, and turned the efforts of the tsar aside without
arousing his displeasure. This may be considered the last gasp of the
Holy Alliance, as it was the complete triumph of the Concert over
it. At the same time France was admitted to the alliance of the four
powers, which henceforth was known as the Quintuple Alliance. But if
ever a question were to come up in which France was at variance with
the four other Powers over matters connected with her obligations
assumed in recent treaties, these four Powers would continue to act
in their old capacity. Mr. W. A. Phillips remarks that the Quadruple
Alliance still survived as “a rod in pickle for a France but doubtfully
disciplined.” For us, who are chiefly concerned to see the result of
the attempt to take the affairs of Europe under the protection of the
great Powers, it is sufficient to remember that France gave no further
trouble of the kind anticipated, and that the Quintuple Alliance, as
the formal expression of the Concert of Europe, had other problems to
consider.

The first arose out of revolutions in Spain and Naples, where armed men
seized the power and forced the kings to accept liberal constitutions.
Alexander I and Metternich looked on with different feelings. The
former had been encouraging the liberals in Italy and was not greatly
shocked by the revolution there, but he was deeply concerned over
the upheaval in Spain and would have led a Russian army thither to
suppress it. The suggestion alarmed Metternich, who did not relish
the idea of Alexander’s marching through Austrian lands with a great
body of men. He did what he could to discourage the expedition against
Spain. At the same time he believed that Naples should be disciplined,
since its revolution endangered the safety of Austrian possessions in
Italy. It is amusing to see how self-interest ran across the currents
of the general good as proclaimed in the Concert of Europe.

The tsar thought the situation warranted calling another conference of
the Quintuple Alliance. Metternich objected, being chiefly concerned
by the seeming certainty that the tsar would wish to carry into the
situation his well-known views in support of liberalism. To him it
seemed sufficient that the powers should agree severally to give their
arms to the suppression of revolution, without meeting in conference.
After much discussion a conference was called, at Troppau, but it was
regularly attended by only three of the five powers. The suppression
of constitutional government was not popular in Great Britain, and
her government took no official part in the conference. France held
aloof also; she was so much under the protection of Great Britain that
she did not dare risk British displeasure by allying herself with the
forces of repression.

Did the absence of two nations from Troppau presage the dissolution of
the Alliance? Castlereagh gave a negative reply. His nation, he said,
was not bound beyond her treaty obligations, the terms of which were
clear and specific. They were embodied in the Treaties of Chaumont
and Paris. He considered the project of dealing with revolution in
its present form as beyond the meaning of these agreements. “If,”
he said, “it is desired to extend the Alliance so as to include all
objects present and future, foreseen and unforeseen, it would change
its character to such an extent and carry us so far, that we should
see in it an additional motive for adhering to our course at the risk
of seeing the Alliance move away from us without our having quitted
it.” These frank words show that the Alliance was strained but not
broken. It would seem that a system like that of which we speak should
have at bottom some broad common principles. In purpose it should
be harmonious. As between the prevailing British idea of liberty
and Metternich’s ideas of legitimacy there was no ground for mutual
support; and out of this divergence of views was to grow the disruption
of the Alliance, as we shall soon see.

Up to this time the two ideas that had run side by side were the tsar’s
plan for a league to secure coöperation of a general nature and the
British plan limiting common action to a few specific matters, chiefly
connected with the repression of France in case she wished to return
to a policy which would threaten the peace of Europe. As it became
increasingly apparent that France was no longer a menace this type
of union became less important, and the British ardor for it cooled,
especially since it was becoming more and more certain that the
Alliance was being used to support repression.

At the same time a change was passing through the mind of the tsar. In
all he had done he had been supported by liberal ministers, against
whose influence at his court Metternich did not hesitate to intrigue.
Alexander’s conversion to the cause of repression came suddenly and
completely in 1820, when there was a mutiny in a favorite regiment of
his guard. Sober advisers pointed out to him that the action of the
regiment had no political significance, but he would not be convinced.
He insisted he would not countenance revolt abroad, lest it encourage
insurrection at home. All the fervor he had shown in behalf of liberal
ideas he now manifested in behalf of repression. At Troppau he met
Metternich in a spirit of profound repentance for what he had done
in the past, saying with an outburst of emotion: “So we are at one,
Prince, and it is to you that we owe it. You have correctly judged
the state of affairs. I deplore the waste of time, which we must try
to repair. I am here without any fixed ideas; without any plan; but I
bring you a firm and unalterable resolution. It is for your Emperor to
use it as he wills. Tell me what you desire, and what you wish me to
do, and I will do it.” The speech astonished the Prince as much as it
pleased him. All his schemes had lost in the defection of Castlereagh,
and probably more, was made up in the accession of his new ally. Not
only was the cause of legitimacy, as he advocated it, made safe; but
the danger was removed of a Franco-Russian alliance, always a thing to
be dreaded by the great Powers in the center of Europe.

In the conference at Troppau, Austria, Russia, and Prussia now acted
together. Up to that time Metternich had ignored the Holy Alliance.
He now brought it out as his stalking horse. The three sovereigns,
controlling the conference, issued a declaration suspending from
the Alliance any state that tolerated revolution in its borders and
declaring that the other Powers in the Alliance would bring back the
offending state by force of arms. Under the indefinite terms of the
instrument this was a legal interpretation of power, but it was not
in the spirit of the benevolent sovereign who made the Holy Alliance
possible.

Those of us who now favor a league or federation of states as a means
of preserving peace perpetually may well study the crisis to which a
similar system had come in the development of international relations
in 1820. The tsar’s ideal was a thing of glory thrown before a sordid
world. Not even he, as we see, was proof against the debasement of his
surroundings. If his plan had been adopted by all the nations, it is
likely that the time would have come when the confederation thus formed
would have become an agency for reaction against which liberal views
would have been unable to contend.

On the other hand, we must not ignore the weight that a confederation
would have had as an idea in promoting respect for liberal government.
If it had been established under the protection of the tsar, it may
well have been that Metternich would not have taken up the crusade of
legitimacy, that the tsar and Castlereagh acting together in behalf of
liberal institutions would have insured a steadier attitude on the part
of the former, and that under such circumstances the kings of Spain
and Naples would have been less inclined to the severe measures which
provoked revolution. Of course, these are mere conjectures, but it is
only fair to mention them as things to be said for the other side of
the question.

When we come to apply the lessons of 1815-1820 to the present day, we
must not forget that conditions are now very greatly changed. It was
the supremacy of arbitrary government in Europe that made the hopes
of 1815 come to naught. Of all the agents who then controlled affairs
in the great states of Europe, Castlereagh, next to the tsar, was the
most liberal. If a plan of union were adopted after the present war,
it might not be a success, but the failure would not be for the same
reasons as those that brought the Alliance of 1815 to a nullity.

Castlereagh made a protest against the purposes of the three Powers
at Troppau in which were some telling arguments against such a league
as was threatening. They were well made and would be applicable to
the situation today, if it were proposed to establish a league like
that which found favor at Troppau. The plan proposed, said he, was too
general in its scope. It gave the projected confederation the right to
interfere in the internal affairs of independent states on the ground
that the general good was concerned, and if carried out the Alliance
would, in effect, be charged with the function of policing such states.
Against all this he protested, and he pointed out that so many grounds
of dissatisfaction lay in the scheme that to try to enforce it would
surely lead to counter alliances, the end of which would be war. It
ought to be said, also, that Castlereagh was opposed to giving up war
as a means of settling disputes. “The extreme right of interference,”
he said, “between nation and nation can never be made a matter of
written stipulation or be assumed as the attribute of an alliance.” If
a man takes that position he can hardly be expected to see good points
in any scheme to preserve peace perpetually.

The evils he pointed out are largely eliminated in the modern plans
that are offered. For example, the jurisdiction of the proposed leagues
or federations is strictly limited to the enforcement of peace. A
supreme court held by eminent judges would pass upon cases as they come
up and say whether or not the central authority should employ force.
Under the plan it would be hard to bring a purely internal question
before the court, and if brought there it would not be considered
by the judges, since the pact of the federation would specify that
such cases were not to be tried. The pact would be the constitution
of the federation, and the court would be expected to pass on the
constitutionality of measures from the standpoint of that instrument.
Under a system like that recently advocated a revolution in Naples
would have to be submitted to a court whose members were appointed from
states in which free institutions are in existence. It could not be the
tool of a Metternich. Under such a system the whim of a tsar, if such a
ruler ever again wears a crown, could not make or mar a question like
that which underlay the calling of the Conference of Troppau. So many
are the differences that it is, perhaps, not profitable to dwell longer
on this point. The study of the peace problem and the attempt to solve
it a hundred years ago is extremely interesting to one who considers
the situation now existing, but it is chiefly because the mind, having
grasped the development of the former problem and become accustomed
to see the process as a whole, is in a better state to understand
the present and to know wherein it differs from the past and in what
respect old factors are supplemented by new factors. Such lessons from
the past are open to all who will but read.

These reflections should not make us forget the main thread of our
story, which became relatively weak after Troppau. From that time it
was clear that Europe had no hopes of peace through coöperation under
either of the two plans that had been suggested. Almost immediately
began a train of events which gave added impulse to the dissolution of
the Alliance. In 1821 began the Greek War of Independence. Austria was
in consternation lest the revolution should spread to her own people.
Russia, however, was deeply sympathetic with the Greeks, partly through
religious affiliations and partly because the Russian people, looking
toward the possession of Constantinople, were anxious to weaken the
Turk in any of his European possessions. Alexander I showed signs
of going to war for the Greeks, and Metternich hastily sought to
counteract any such course.

At the same time the situation in Spain’s American colonies was
becoming more urgent, because the weakness of the government had
stimulated the South American revolutionists to renewed activity until
Mexico as well as the rest of the Continental colonies except Peru was
in successful revolt. Metternich would have helped Turkey against the
Greeks and allowed the tsar to carry out his long cherished wish of
intervening in Spain, as a means of keeping him quiet. The situation
seemed to call for another conference and after some discussion a
meeting was arranged at Verona, 1822. France was anxious to take over
the task of punishing the Spanish revolutionists, and as Russia,
Austria, and Prussia agreed to her plan, four of the five Great Powers
now stood side by side in favor of repression. They would have gone
further, and settled the fate of the American revolutionists, but
against that course Great Britain made such a protest that the question
was left open.

It was not definitely closed until the next year, and then through
the action of the United States, taken in association with Great
Britain. For when France had performed her task, she looked forward
to taking some of the Spanish colonies as indemnity for her expenses.
The principle of federation among the Powers was working so well that
it was considered only a natural thing to call another conference at
which France could be assigned the right of conquering the colonies.
Canning, at the head of the British government, was genuinely alarmed.
The four united Powers were willing to defy Great Britain if she stood
alone. He turned to the United States as the only ally in sight. Would
we support him in opposition to the designs of the Powers? President
Monroe, influenced by John Quincy Adams’ stout patriotism, replied
in the affirmative and went a step further; for he insisted that the
defiance of the Powers should be announced in Washington, not as a mere
expedient to meet an isolated case, but as a general policy of our
government. The Monroe Doctrine was one of the things that broke up the
Quintuple Alliance, already weakened by the alienation of Great Britain.

The last blow was the revolution in France in 1880, which drove the
Bourbon king into exile and made a liberal government possible. At the
same time so strong were the manifestations of republicanism in other
countries that the old conservatism was lowered in tone and chastened
in pride. From France the revolutionary movement passed into Belgium,
which the Congress of Vienna had decreed should be a part of the
kingdom of the Netherlands. So completely was the revolution successful
that even the Great Powers had to bow to it, and in a congress at
London they recognized Belgium as a separate state and saw it set up a
liberal constitution with a king at the head of the government. Several
of the small German governments also adopted more liberal forms. Poland
broke into rebellion and before its power of resistance was crushed by
Russia the infection spread into Lithuania and Podolia. At last the
arms of the tsar overpowered all resistance and peace reigned; but
the reactionaries were sobered, and the dream of a league to enforce
repression passed away.

Glancing backward we may see through what a development the ideas
of reform had passed. Europe, distressed by the wars of 1800-1815,
had hungered for peace. Having issued from a decade of discussion of
liberty and humanity, the friends of freedom were more than ordinarily
earnest for replacing war by an age of reason. In our own day the cause
of universal peace stands on a broader and better laid foundation than
a hundred years ago, but it is, perhaps, no more impressive. At any
rate the philosophically inclined men of the earlier period supported
Kant and Rousseau, among them, Alexander I. A considerable portion of
the world believed that the outcome of the war madness then reigning
must be an era of sanity.

We have seen that two plans of improvement were formed in the minds
of men who were in position to have practical influence: the tsar’s
scheme for a league, or federation, that was so strongly integrated
that the central authority should be able to enforce its commands
upon constituent states; and the plan of Castlereagh for prolonging
the existing system of coöperation in a form which we may call the
Concert of the Great Powers. We have seen that the tsar’s plan, ignored
at first, was seized on by Metternich as a possibility for enforcing
a system of reaction, that it met the opposition of Great Britain
and aroused the revolutionary protest of 1830, and thus it came to
an end. It was never the dream of any of the philosophers that a
federation should be formed which might become an engine of despotism,
yet practical use showed that such a course was within the bounds of
possibility. The mere glimpse of such a thing was enough to make Europe
prefer the old era of wars.

One does not have to look far into the situation to see that the real
failure of the plan was due to the wide use of arbitrary government
in Europe. Had Austria, Russia, and Prussia been ruled by the people,
either as republics or as liberal monarchies, the great alliance of
Europe could hardly have been turned to the side of repression; and
under the guidance of enlightened statesmen it might have been the
beginning of a long era of peace and international good will. The
failure of the nineteenth century, therefore, does not prove that
federation is essentially impossible. It only proves that a century ago
the world was not ready to employ it successfully.




CHAPTER V

THE LATER PHASES OF THE CONCERT OF EUROPE


The revolutionary movement of 1830 did not destroy the influence of
Metternich in Europe. He was too able a man to be overthrown as leader
of the legitimists merely because the people were in a ferment. To his
party he was still the man to be trusted, and as legitimacy managed to
beat down revolution in most of the areas in which commotion appeared,
the scope of his power was wide, although it was evident that he could
not use it with former impunity.

At the same time he gave up the pretense of making the Alliance of
the Powers a federation. He was content to try to secure that concert
of action that would enable the states that leaned to legitimacy to
act together against incipient revolution; and for a time he was
successful. In anticipation of the failure of the plan to permit France
to interfere in the Spanish colonies, Canning exclaimed: “Things are
getting back to a wholesome state again. Every nation for itself and
God for us all!” But the cry of joy was premature. The time had not
returned in which each crisis was to be met in its own way, without
reference to a recognized concert of action, and the reason was the
deep consciousness of the states that certain grave questions that ever
hung over the horizon had in them the possibilities of general war.
Let one of these questions loom large, and common action was taken to
avert the threatened danger. In such way the Concert of Europe was kept
alive, and remained something to be reckoned with as a part of the
background of European policy. In spite of its temporary disuse, it was
a thing to be brought forth again if the nations decided that it was
needed to meet an emergency.

In fact, it reappeared many times in the course of the nineteenth
century, notably in 1840, when the so-called Eastern question became
prominent. At that time Mehemet Ali, who had made himself lord of Egypt
and seized Syria, was threatening Constantinople, having the support of
France. Russia became alarmed, made a close alliance with the sultan,
and seemed about to get that secure foothold on the Bosphorus for
which she had striven many years. Great Britain, Austria, and Prussia
resented this prospect and took steps jointly to counteract it. Their
object was to preserve Turkey from the dangers that threatened to
divide her. Before such a combination Russia was not able to stand,
and she gave up her pretensions in order to join the other three
powers. France, however, held to her purpose, supporting the adventurer
of Egypt. Thus it happened that the four Great Powers, reviving the
Concert of Europe, but leaving out the government of Louis Philippe,
had a conference in London to settle Eastern affairs. They decided
to offer Mehemet Ali certain concessions and to make war on him if
he refused to accept them. He spurned their counsel and was expelled
from Syria but was saved from utter destruction by the interference
of France, who secured a settlement by which he was left in firm
possession of Egypt, as hereditary ruler under the nominal authority of
Turkey. All the powers now united in an agreement by which Turkey was
to exclude foreign warships from the Dardanelles. Thus, by an appeal
to the principle of the Concert of Europe, a grave crisis was averted,
and war between Great Britain and Russia was avoided.

In 1848, seven years after the conclusion of these negotiations,
Europe was thrown into convulsions by the appearance of a new era of
revolution. France became a republic, and Germany, Austria, and Hungary
went through such violent upheavals that the existence of arbitrary
government hung for a time in the balance. Out of the struggle emerged
Napoleon III, of France, who thought some military achievement was
necessary to stabilize his power. At that time Russia was asserting
a protectorate over all Christians in Turkey, and it was generally
believed that she was about to establish vital political control.
Napoleon took up the sword against her and Great Britain came to help,
the result being the Crimean War, 1854-1856.

In the beginning of this struggle the Concert of Europe seemed to be
dead, but two years of heavy fighting and nearly futile losses brought
it to life again. The war, which began in an outburst of international
rivalry, ended in the Conference of Paris, 1856, in which all the
Great Powers but Prussia undertook to settle the Eastern question by
neutralizing the Euxine and the Danube and by making new allotments of
territory which were supposed to adjust boundaries in such a manner
that rivalries would disappear. The Conference went on to take up the
work of a true European congress by agreeing upon the Declaration of
Paris, in which were assembled a body of rules regulating neutral trade
in time of war. England gave up her long defended pretension to seize
enemy goods on neutral ships and neutral goods on enemy ships, and in
return gained the recognition that privateering was unlawful. Thus the
Crimean War, fought by Great Britain and France against Russia, and in
support of Turkey--with Austria and Prussia as neutrals--was at last
ended by an agreement between all the parties concerned. The nations
undertook to settle the long Eastern dispute by pledging the sultan to
reforms which it was not in his nature to carry out.

The next three wars were fought without respect to the Concert of
Europe. They arose from local causes and were soon determined without
the aid of the Great Powers. They were the war of Austria and France
over the liberation of Italy, 1859; the war between Prussia and
Austria, 1866, in which Prussia overthrew the Austrian predominancy in
Germany; and the Franco-Prussian war in 1870-1871, in which Prussia
crushed France and made herself the head of the German Empire. In the
first of these struggles no state could gain enough power to become
a menace to the other states, since Italy was to be the recipient of
all territory gained. Had the contest gone so far as to promise the
vast enlargement of the power of France by reason of an alliance with
enlarged Italy, interference might have resulted. In fact, the German
states began to suspect such a result, and the realization of it was
one of Napoleon’s reasons for withdrawing very unceremoniously from
the war. Here we see, therefore, that the principle of concert was not
entirely dead. The second and third wars were fought by a brilliantly
organized state, Prussia, with whose successful armies no nation cared
to make a trial of strength.

In 1877 Russia made war on Turkey and proceeded with such energy
that she soon forced the sultan to sign the treaty of San Stefano,
altogether in favor of Russia. The particulars of the struggle belong
to another chapter,[7] but here it is only necessary to point out that
the Concert of Europe was now suddenly revived by the Great Powers, and
Russia was forced to submit her well won victory to the Congress of
Berlin, which scaled down the awards of San Stefano until Russia might
well ask what was left of her victory. A similar thing happened in the
Balkan War of 1912-1913. Here the parties concerned had fought their
quarrel out to the end and had nearly expelled Turkey from Europe,
dividing the spoils among themselves. Then in stepped the Great Powers,
prescribing in a treaty at London the limits of gain to the successful
contestants. They acted in the interest of peace; for Austria, watching
the actions of Serbia and Greece, let it be known that she would not
allow Serbia to have Albania, and the Powers interfered in order to
prevent such action from kindling a great European war.

    [7] See below, p. 112.

Thus in three notable wars, the Crimean War, the Russo-Turkish War,
and the Balkan War, the action of the Great Powers was not to prevent
war, but to neutralize its gains. So far did this principle go that
writers were known to suggest that war would no longer be profitable
to nations, since in a Concert of Europe the Great Powers would ever
nullify the gains of the contestants.

At this time concert had come to mean another thing than it meant in
the decade after the fall of Napoleon. Then it was a fixed system of
consultation and decision in anticipation of some issue that threatened
war: now it was concerted action to keep a local war from going so
far as to involve a general conflict. It was a last resort in the
presence of dire danger. A more present means of preserving peace was
the Balance of Power, which consisted in forming the states in groups
one of which balanced another group and prevented the development of
overwhelming strength. The principle was well known in the past history
of Europe, but it was never so clearly defined in the remote past as in
the last half century. For our purposes its modern phase begins after
the Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871.

Before that time Prussia was strong in Europe but not over-whelmingly
great. On one side was Austria, long her enemy, and on the other was
France. Within five years they were defeated with such quick and
crushing blows that the world was startled and the Germans themselves
were as much astonished as delighted. Out of this brilliant period of
success arose the German Empire, with Prussia for its corner-stone and
Bismarck for its builder and guardian. Immediately a singular thing
happened. One would hardly expect that a beaten state would straightway
form an alliance with the power that had humiliated her; yet such a
relation was established between Germany and Austria, and it has lasted
to this day. Where Germany has loved Austria has loved, where Germany
has hated Austria has hated, and the ambition of one has been supported
by the other. Bismarck’s policy had this state of friendship in view
and he gave Austria generous terms of peace in 1866, when she was at
his feet. Common blood bound the two states together and later led to
the hope of unification in a great Pan-German empire.

With France, however, the empire which Bismarck founded was to have
no such state of amity. Between them was no brotherhood, not even in
the tenuous bonds of the theory of the rights of man. Back of 1871 were
many acts of aggression, many bitter wars, and some very humiliating
experiences for states inhabited by Germans. And now the tables were
turned. France was weak and the often beaten Germans were strong and
victorious. Their vengeance was expressed in the long siege of Paris,
the proclamation of the German Empire in the château of the old French
kings, the humiliating indemnity levied on the French people, and
the annexation of Alsace and Lorraine, so long in the quiet keeping
of France that they were thoroughly French in sympathy and political
purpose. Bismarck usually ruled his heart with his head, but he lost
himself for the moment when he sent a defeated neighbor under the yoke
of needless disgrace, and Germany has paid the price many times over in
maintaining a great army and parrying the diplomatic thrusts of France.
The hostile feelings thus engendered gave rise to the particular kind
of balance of power that has existed in Europe since 1871; for on
whatever side Germany was found France was on the other, and however
the elements shifted in the grouping of nations these two states were
always opponents.

It was Bismarck’s idea to form an alliance so powerful that no other
state nor group of states would dare attack it, and by holding his
allies in hand to preserve peace. That was the way the Balance of Power
was to serve to prevent war. For his purpose he formed what was known
as the Three Emperors’ League, consisting of the rulers of Germany,
Russia, and Austria. The combination was weak in one important point;
for Russia and Austria had rival hopes of territorial gains in the
Near East, and they were not likely to remain permanently in accord.
With an eye to such a disruption of the alliance Bismarck looked about
for another state which could be added to the group. He turned to
Italy, bound to him because he had befriended her in her struggle for
nationality.

To bring Italy into the alliance was not easy; for she was bitterly
hostile to Austria, who still held the unredeemed part of the Italian
people and who was still hated in the peninsula for her ancient
oppression of Italian provinces. The Iron Chancellor generally carried
his point, partly because of his personal ability and partly because
it was felt that he could and would live up to his promises. He showed
the king of Italy the advantages the kingdom would have under German
protection, which would support it against France, strengthen it in the
quarrel with the pope, and even hold back Austria if that power was
inclined to pay off old scores. These arrangements were completed in
1882 and gave rise to the Triple Alliance, until 1914 a strong factor
in European affairs. The greatness of Bismarck is well shown in the
fact that he could carry this plan through and still retain Russia in
coöperation with Austria and Germany. Until he retired from office in
1890 he had the support of the tsar.

After he withdrew the union of the three emperors was dissolved. But
for his strong hand it could hardly have been formed. Russia and
Austria were at bottom rivals. If Germany supported Russia in her plans
for the Near East she would offend Austria, and if she lent herself to
Austria she would lose Russia. Moreover, if she favored Russia openly
she was likely to arouse the opposition of Great Britain, who was at
that time very suspicious of the tsar’s designs on Constantinople. It
was a delicate situation, and it was only good luck and Bismarck’s
character that kept it intact for more than fifteen years.

After 1890 the Triple Alliance continued its existence, Italy
suppressing her dislike for Austria as well as she could in view of her
need of strong friends among the nations. But Russia fell away and in
1895 announced that she had formed a Dual Alliance with France, a thing
which Bismarck had been very solicitous to prevent. By holding Russia
in hand he had been able to isolate France in Europe, but her isolation
was now a thing of the past. The Dual Alliance confronted the Triple
Alliance and the result was peace. At the same time the rivalry of
Russia and Austria over Turkey became more energetic, which tended to
increase the probability of war.

Succeeding Bismarck came German statesmen who were not so steady as
he, and their weaker hold on the situation added to the gravity of
the prospects of peace. It can hardly be doubted that the fall of
Bismarck lessened the prospect that Europe would remain at peace. The
Balance of Power, which took so clear a form with the organization of
the Dual Alliance, was not as good a guarantee of peace as it seemed;
for while it made the checking of powers by powers more apparent, its
very existence was evidence of a state of stronger rivalry of nations
than existed before the Dual Alliance was formed. At the same time the
men who now guided the fortunes of Germany were not so convinced as
Bismarck that the country should have peace.

While these things happened Great Britain remained generally neutral.
She was busy with trade expansion and the development of her colonies,
especially in Africa; and her chief interest, so far as the schemes
of the Continental nations were concerned, was to see that none of
them interfered with her progress in that field of endeavor. Late
in Bismarck’s time, however, she became convinced that Germany was
becoming a rival both in trade and colonization. It is true that
France was also a rival, and between her and Great Britain occurred
some sharp passages; but France was not an aggressive nation and had
no strong military resources to back her ambitions in the field of
peaceful activities. Germany, on the other hand, was increasingly
militaristic and the logic of events seemed to indicate that she would
at some time in the future be willing to support her commercial and
colonial ambition with a formidable appeal to arms. British anxiety was
quickened when the young kaiser began to build a great navy, with the
avowed object of making it equal to the British navy. For centuries
it had been the key-note of British policy to have a navy that could
control the seas; and while there was nothing in the will of Father
Adam that gave Britons the dominion of the seas, the kaiser must have
known that he could not challenge their superiority on water without
arousing their gravest apprehension. During the Boer war (1899-1902)
Germany gave added offense to Britain. She showed sympathy openly for
the Boers, and it was generally believed in Great Britain that she took
advantage of the opportunity to try to form a grand alliance to curb
the power of the “Mistress of the Seas.” Rumor said that the plan was
defeated only by the refusal of France to lend her assistance unless
she received Alsace-Lorraine. If the report is true, it only shows what
a costly thing to Germany was the hatred that Bismarck created when he
put France to the humiliating dismemberment of 1871.

During this period Théophile Delcassé was head of the French foreign
office (1898-1905). He was a man of great original ability and was
desirous of restoring the prestige of France. When he came into office
the French public was excited over the Fashoda incident, a clash of
French and British interests in the Sudan which seemed to threaten
war. The British government took a strong attitude, as it was likely
at that time to do, when it felt that it was dealing with a weaker
nation. Delcassé realized that the true welfare of his country demanded
friendship with the one power which could help it against Germany, and
at the risk of denunciation at home he gave up all that Great Britain
demanded in the Sudan. He thus showed that he possessed that high trait
of statesmanship which consists in the ability to convert an opponent
into a firm friend.

The opportunity to which he was looking forward came when Germany set
her plans into operation during the Boer war. He not only held out for
the return of the lost provinces but, that failing, made overtures for
a better understanding with the British. It was a time when a friendly
hand was gladly received by the London government. The result was a
series of agreements which became known as the _Entente Cordiale_,
1904. They marked the reappearance of Great Britain as a leading power
in Continental affairs, after a long period of aloofness. She had
become an active part of the Balance of Power, and her strength was
thrown to the side which was bent on restraining the vast influence
of Germany. Her action caused great alarm at Berlin, where her motive
was interpreted as commercial jealousy, the statesmen of that city
apparently forgetting that they had provoked it by their unfriendly
attitude in the Boer war.

In the same year began the Russo-Japanese war (1904-1905). At first
glance it would seem that this conflict threatened to weaken the
_Entente Cordiale_, for Japan was allied to Great Britain and Russia
was bound up with France by the Dual Alliance. But the result was
just the opposite. The _Entente_ was not only left intact, but it was
actually strengthened. When Japan defeated Russia, Great Britain ceased
to fear Russian aggression in the Far East, which made it possible for
her to draw nearer to the Muscovite power. At the same time, Russia,
always seeking an outlet to the sea, turned her eyes with greater
eagerness than ever to the Near East, which brought her into a more
intense state of opposition to Austria and Germany. Delcassé seized
the opportunity offered him and succeeded in bringing together these
two great nations, which for many years had been continually ready to
fly at one another. He put into motion the negotiations out of which
was formed the Triple _Entente_ (1907) in which Great Britain, France,
and Russia announced that they had settled their differences and would
stand together in future crises.

The incidents that followed the culmination of Delcassé’s diplomacy
are very striking, but they must be deferred until I reach a later
stage of my subject. Here it is only proper to observe that it brought
the theory of the Balance of Power to its logical development. Delcassé
was in a world in which one great and most efficiently armed nation
stood in a position to turn suddenly on the rest of Europe and sweep
it into her lap. By her military and naval power, by her vast trained
army, by her readiness for instantaneous action, by her well planned
strategic railroads, and by her alliances with the middle-European
states she was in a threatening position. At a given signal she could
seize great domains, fortify herself, and defy all the world to drive
her out of what she had taken. There was hardly an intelligent German
who did not believe that this course would be followed in the near
future and who did not feel confident that it would make Germany
the dominating nation of the world. Against this system the Triple
_Entente_ was formed, as a means of balance. It was larger than the
Triple Alliance but not so effectively led.

And here I must observe that these two groups had come into existence
in the most natural way. Bismarck had founded the Triple Alliance as
a means of preserving peace, not as a means of aggression; but it had
become something more than he intended it to be. It had enabled Germany
to play such a part in European politics that the creation of another
great group as a balance was apparently demanded. Immediately that
her position was lowered Germany felt aggrieved that the combination
had been made against her. So powerful were her convictions about her
wrongs that she threw away all thought of a concert of the Great Powers
for the settlement of the difficulty. She had trusted to the Balance to
protect her; but she now considered it something more than a state of
equilibrium and she appealed to arms. Before this narrative recounts
the actual events by which she felt that she was justified in taking
this step, it is necessary to consider the Balkan question, a series of
causes and events which for nearly a century has been an open menace to
European peace and stability.




CHAPTER VI

THE BALKAN STATES


Viscount Grey has been criticized for not understanding the Balkan
problem. If his critics understood how complex is the story of the last
century in this part of Europe they would withold their strictures.
I, at least, do not blame any man for failing to carry in his mind
an appreciation of all that the mixed mass of races and religions
in the Balkan country have striven and hoped for during the recent
past. In this chapter the best that can be promised is an account of
the main facts of Balkan history. A more detailed narrative would be
confusing to the reader. A failure to mention the subject would leave
much unexplained that is essential to an understanding of the origin
of the present war. And we shall hardly know how to decide what kind
of a peace the future security of Europe demands, if we leave out of
consideration the proper disposition to be made of the small states of
the Southeast.

In 1453 Turkey took Constantinople and began a series of conquests that
carried her to the very gates of the city of Vienna. That important
stronghold seemed about to fall into her hands in 1683, when an army
of Polish and German soldiers came to its rescue in the name of
Christianity, drove off the infidels, and wrenched Hungary out of their
hands for the benefit of the Austrian power. This struggle proved the
highwater mark of Turkish conquest in Europe. From that time to this,
wars of reconquest have followed one another, the pagans always playing
a losing game. But for a long time all that part of Southeastern Europe
that could be reached from the Black Sea was held by the Turks, the
part that was easily reached from Germany was held by the Christians,
and the part that lay between, a broad belt of hilly country, was
continually in dispute. Across it armies fought back and forth, each
side winning and losing in turn, but with the general result in favor
of the Christians, who slowly pushed back the frontier of their enemies.

The region held by the Turks was tenacious of its Christian faith and
recognized the religious authority of the Patriarch of Constantinople,
who, Christian though he was, stood under the control of the sultan.
The inhabitants suffered many hardships and were reduced to the
condition of serfs under Mohammedan masters. The long bondage to their
overlords had a peculiar effect on their characters. They came to
think it right to use fraud, violence, and subterfuge against their
oppressors, and so they employed religion and patriotism to defend the
commission of acts which in ordinary situations are considered without
the pale of civilized conduct. To this day the Balkan states are not
rid of their heritage from these years of moral darkness.

The Balkan people, ruled long as Turkish subjects, have gradually
formed themselves into five principal groups as follows: the Serbians,
dwelling in the interior of the country northwest of Turkey proper
and occupying much of the hinterland lying east of the Adriatic; the
Bulgars, settled east of the Serbs and extending as far as the shores
of the Black Sea; the Wallachians and Moldavians, who were of kindred
stock and became known as Rumanians because they believed themselves
the descendants of the inhabitants of the ancient Roman colony of
Dacia; the Albanians living along the lower eastern shores of the
Adriatic; and the Montenegrins, of the same race as the Serbians,
who defended themselves so well in their mountain strongholds that
they could say they had never been conquered by the Turks. Many race
elements entered into these groups, but the Serbs and Montenegrins were
largely Slavic, while the Bulgars were generally of a distinct race
of Asiatic origin, and the Rumanians were generally Vlachs, a name
given to the Latin speaking population of the Eastern Roman Empire.
The Albanians seem to be of mixed stock, but they have a strong sense
of nationality. These five groups correspond respectively to the five
civil divisions that have emerged from the Turkish provinces, each
playing its part in the modern Balkan problem.

Montenegro aside, the first group to become a state was Serbia, whose
hardy mountain inhabitants rose in revolt in 1804. A number of brave
leaders appeared and valley by valley the Turks were forced out of
the country. The Serbs were practically independent for a time,
but the sultan did not acquiesce in their freedom, and the constant
preparedness that was necessary to repel any attack he might launch was
a source of much expense and anxiety to the people.

In 1821 the Greeks, also under the domination of Turkey, rose in
revolt. Great sympathy was aroused in the rest of Europe and in spite
of the disposition of the Great Powers to allow Turkey a free hand to
preserve her territory intact, lest one of them gain over-balancing
territory, public opinion forced them to intervene. The first to
show sympathy was Russia, who had an interest in making herself the
protector of the Christians in Turkey. The other powers resented
her assistance to the Greeks, and finally Great Britain and France
united in a project of intervention, sending a joint fleet to the
Mediterranean which destroyed the Turkish fleet at Navarino in 1827.
The stubborn sultan remained unyielding, and in 1828 Russia entered
the war openly, having come to an agreement with the other Powers. She
sent an army across the border which carried all before it, and the
sultan was forced to make the treaty of Adrianople, in which Turkey
recognized the independence of Greece and acknowledged Serbia as an
autonomous state under Turkish suzerainty. At the same time Wallachia
and Moldavia, where Rumans lived, were recognized as independent
under a Russian protectorate. Thus one sovereign and three dependent
but locally autonomous states stood forth out of the confused and
misgoverned Christian area of Turkey in Europe.

The rest of the region, occupied by Bulgars and Albanians, with Bosnia
and Herzegovina, claimed by the Serbs as legitimate parts of their
national habitat, remained in an unredeemed condition and were governed
by agents appointed by the sultan. Montenegro retained her position of
practical independence, which Turkey had been forced to acknowledge in
1799. These arrangements were confirmed in a more formal treaty in 1832.

The successes of this period quickened the spirit of nationality in
the Balkans. Just as the Greeks were swept by a wave of enthusiasm for
their classical culture and sought to revive the language and ideals of
the remote past, so the Balkan peoples set out to revive their ancient
culture, long obscured by the shadow of Turkish masters. Serbs, Rumans,
and Bulgars made grammars of their own languages, gathered up what was
preserved of their ancient literatures and traditions, taught their
children to revere the national heroes, and sought in many other ways
to stimulate the spirit of nationality. The Slavic portion turned
to Russia for support, whom they called their “big brother,” while
the Rumans cultivated an appreciation of Italy and France, whom they
considered kindred descendants of the ancient Romans. To their national
hopes in these things was added the desire for religious independence.
They disliked being under the ecclesiastical authority of the Patriarch
of Constantinople, who was appointed by the sultan, and looked forward
to a time when they might have exarchs of their own, with jurisdiction
not limited by the Patriarch.

In 1854 Russia was ready for another advance in the region of the
Balkans, hoping to gain at last what Peter the Great had declared was
essential to her progress, a window looking out on the Mediterranean.
Great Britain and France came to the help of the sultan and the
Crimean War followed. After a hard struggle it ended in Russia’s
defeat, and at the Conference of Paris, 1856, the affairs of the
Balkans were again up for settlement, but this time the victory leaned
to the side of the Turk, although it was modified by the restraining
hand of his two allies. The purport of the treaty was to reduce the
power of Russia, and in doing so the aspirations of the Balkans
states were checked. The protectorate the tsar had established over
Wallachia and Moldavia was destroyed, and Bulgars, who had expected
independence, remained under the rule of the sultan, while Greece, who
had desired a large portion of Macedonia, was forced to continue in
her old boundaries. This crisis was not the last in which the vexed
Balkan question, seemingly near solution, was made to give way before
the complicated problems of the general European situation. Looking
backward we may well say that if Russia had secured her wish, expelled
the Turk from Constantinople and liberated the Balkan states, the
fortunes of France would not have been lessened, and Great Britain,
safe through her supremacy at sea, would not have lost any of the
strength she had in India. At the same time the sore spot of European
relations would have been healed, and we should probably have had no
war in 1914.

Wallachia and Moldavia were of the same stock and wished to unite as
one kingdom. They made their desires known in the negotiations that
resulted in the Treaty of Paris, but the Powers did not mean to create
a large state on the borders of Russia which might prove a bulwark
of influence for the tsar, and accordingly they denied the request.
The two states found a way to accomplish their desire, soon after the
conference at Paris adjourned. Meeting to select rulers each chose
Alexander John Cuza simultaneously, and after hesitating two years the
Powers acknowledged him as king. Thus was formed the united kingdom
of Rumania; and its formation illustrated a weak point in the Concert
of Europe. However much the Powers might interfere to prevent the
consummation of an act they considered dangerous, they would think
twice before trying to punish a Balkan state, since in doing so they
might set off an explosion in the very system they were working to keep
peaceful. Rumania understood this phase of the matter and took her
chances. Her firm course had its reward.

The influence of Great Britain was now paramount at Constantinople.
The sultan was satisfied with his ally, since he knew that of all the
Powers he had least to fear from this state, which had no territories
in that part of the Mediterranean and was committed to the preservation
of his rule as a means of keeping Russia away from the Bosphorus.
To justify herself for defending the Turk, Great Britain gave the
world assurances that the sultan was about to become good. Under her
insistance a series of reforms was announced, but they did not go far
in the realization. Some of the promises referred to the government of
the Balkans, but they were as fruitless as the others. Meanwhile French
and British merchants found large profits in Turkish trade.

The tsar was humiliated by his loss of influence in the Southeast,
and in 1877 he began another war against Turkey. He thought the time
favorable for such action. Impeded for a while at Plevna, in Bulgaria,
he at last swept the enemy before him and took Adrianople on January
16, 1878. His successes created great enthusiasm among the Serbs,
Bulgars, and Rumans, who flocked to his victorious standard. The
panic-stricken sultan sued for peace and at San Stefano signed a treaty
which granted all that was demanded of him. Serbia, Montenegro, and
Rumania were recognized as completely independent, Bulgaria as an
autonomous tributary province, and Bosnia and Herzegovina were assured
of important administrative reforms. Russia was awarded some territory
not strictly in the Balkans, but her greatest gain was the prestige she
now had as liberator of Christian states.

The treaty of San Stefano alarmed Great Britain and Austria, both
of whom felt that they had major interests at stake. They got a
congress of the Great Powers to meet at Berlin, 1878, which revised
the treaty in what they were pleased to call the interest of European
peace. Complete independence was announced for Serbia, Rumania,
and Montenegro, and the sultan accepted the fact of their perfect
sovereignty. By the treaty of San Stefano Bulgaria was to include
Macedon and eastern Rumelia, making one great buffer province between
the Turkish and the Christian states. The three parts were now
left distinct, Bulgaria proper being autonomous but under Turkish
suzerainty, and the other two less independent.

To create a “Big Bulgaria” as a bulwark against Turkey had been
Russia’s chief hope in the war. Her initial success awakened enthusiasm
in all the Balkan people, and the results were expressed in the way
in which they rallied to her aid. At last, said the onlookers, an
opportunity had come to found a strong Balkan confederacy which would
play an important part in the development of the Near East. The hand of
Russia seemed strong enough to hold these nascent states to one policy,
allay their incipient jealousies, and bring them to a great common
ideal. If such a course could have been adopted the future of Europe
would have been profoundly altered. It was defeated by that Concert of
Europe which was supposed to exist in order that the world might be
spared the burden of war. It was really prevented through the operation
of the forces of national selfishness, safely esconced in the system
which we have called the Concert of Europe.

The ambition of Austria-Hungary played a large part at the Congress
of Berlin. This nation had long looked upon the region that separated
her from the Adriatic as a sphere through which she was justified in
extending her power at the expense of Turkey, and she now felt that
the time had come to realize her plans. If she waited, Russia would
acquire such an influence as to forestall Austrian advancement. Her
eyes were fixed on Bosnia and Herzegovina, for some time in revolt
against Turkish misgovernment. Her influence was such that the congress
gave her the right to occupy and administer the two provinces under
the reservation of sovereignty to the sultan. The inhabitants, who
were largely Slavic, were forced to accept the decision, although they
did not relax their cherished hopes of independence. They were pawns
thrown to Austria as a balance for the gains of Russia. The transaction
only whetted the Austrian appetite for more and deepened the Serbian
resentment for Austria.

Great Britain had her advantage out of the bargain also. She retained
her position of paramount friend at Constantinople, justifying herself
with the assurance that the sultan would carry out reforms in his
empire. She seemed to think that the “Sick Man of Europe” would cure
himself under her guidance and then defend himself against states
that tried to oust him from his seat of power. To enable her to watch
the bedside of her patient from a convenient position, as well as
to safeguard the Suez Canal, Great Britain was given the right to
occupy and administer the island of Cyprus under nominal authority of
Turkey. To be perfectly fair we must admit that there is little moral
difference between her acquisition of Cyprus and Austria’s gain in
Bosnia and Herzegovina; and it is clear that in this case the Concert
of Europe was a concert for the gain of selfish ends. It is also worth
while to note that two of the Great Powers took no benefit from the
agreement. France was slowly recovering from the war of 1870-1871
and was in no condition to fight, although in 1881 she established
a protectorate over Tunis. The German Empire, newly founded and not
yet fully adapted to the imperial system, was also in no condition to
undertake a stiff encounter. There were many Germans who wished that
their government should not allow the other states to get large gains
of territory while Germany got nothing; but they yielded to Bismarck’s
wise policy which held that it was not yet time for Germany to assume
an aggressive position in the world. The impatience of the German
patriots lost nothing through having to wait.

No treaty ends the march of time, and the Balkan situation continued
to develop along the old lines. In 1881 Greece acquired Thessaly in
accordance with a promise made to her at the Congress of Berlin. In
1885 East Rumelia declared herself united to Bulgaria, acting in
defiance of the will of the Congress of Berlin. The Powers did not
interfere for the same reason that they did not act when Wallachia
and Moldavia united in 1862. To attempt to undo the union would have
precipitated a general war. The Concert was stronger to prevent a given
action than to correct it after it was done. Serbia, however, took
the action of the two provinces as a menace and declared war against
the new state of Bulgaria. She seemed about to throw herself on her
adversary when she suddenly made peace, evidently feeling she was not
strong enough to carry on the war alone.

Thenceforth the Powers showed that they did not mean to allow the
Balkan states to profit by seizing parts of the decaying Turkish
Empire. But for their restraint it seems that the Turk would have been
expelled from Europe before the end of the nineteenth century.

Their intention was clearly manifested in regard to the island of
Crete, whose population long suffered from Turkish oppression. In
1896 the island was in revolt and the sultan was forced to promise
reforms. The assurance proved empty and in 1897 Greece interfered in
behalf of Crete. In the war that followed the Greeks fought heroically
but alone and were no match for Turkey in operations on land. They
made peace without success, but through the instrumentality of the
Great Powers the sultan agreed to allow Crete self-government under
an elected assembly. The powers let it be known that they would not
have the island annexed to Greece, which they did not mean to make a
preponderating influence in the Balkans. Now appeared a great Cretan
leader, Eleutherios Venezelos, whom his admirers call the Cavour of
Greece. Under his influence the Cretan assembly voted the union of the
island with Greece in 1905, but again the Powers interposed, insisting
that the sovereignty of the sultan should not be abrogated. However,
they permitted the Greek king to appoint a representative to rule the
island as a Turkish fief, and Greek officers were allowed to train the
Cretan soldiers and police. At last the Balkan war (1912-1913) brought
the completion of union, the Great Powers yielding their assent.

The explanation of the conduct of the Powers in this incident is to be
found in the delicate nature of the whole Balkan question. With Austria
and Russia keenly aroused and each of the Balkan states anxiously
looking for the moment when the rest of the sultan’s territory in
Europe was to be divided between them, it was evident that a little
thing could precipitate a serious conflict. It was in view of this
phase of the situation that the Balkans were called “the tinder-box of
Europe.”

It will be observed that while these things happened the Balkan states
were developing steadily in national resources and spirit. Greece,
Serbia, Bulgaria, and Rumania became vitally organized powers, it
became more and more evident that they were no longer mere pawns in the
diplomatic game, and the time was fast approaching when they would wish
to take parts on their own initiative. So assertive were they becoming
that it was certain that the time would soon come when the Great Powers
would tire of the process of holding conferences to keep these states
out of trouble. It is not an easy task to serve as custodian for a
“tinder-box.”

A fair warning of this kind of danger occurred in 1908. For
twenty-three years Bulgaria had remained undisturbed, giving herself
to a rapid process of educational and industrial development, in both
of which lines she had come under the influence of German methods.
Suddenly she threw off her nominal Turkish sovereignty and declared
herself an entirely independent state. At the same time, and evidently
by agreement with the German Empire, Austria-Hungary announced that
she would hold Bosnia-Herzegovina as an integral part of her empire,
thus superseding the “occupation” that was authorized by the congress
of Berlin, in 1878. Serbia took the matter as a great injury, but she
could do nothing alone. Her natural ally was Russia, then recovering
from the severe losses of the war against Japan. Had the tsar been
ready for war it is doubtful if he would have drawn the sword in this
instance; for a world war would have resulted, and the nations were
not yet ready to think of such an undertaking. But Serbia nursed her
wrongs and to Russia the sense of her shame grew as she thought how her
weakness had been flaunted in the face of the world. The day came when
the fire could no longer be smothered.

To understand Serbia’s feelings we must recall the national ideal by
which her hopes had been formed for many years. Most of the people
of Montenegro, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Novi-Bazar, and the northwestern
corner of Macedonia were Serbs by blood. To unite them into a great
Serbia had long been spoken of in Serbia as the “Great Idea.” When,
therefore, Austria took definite possession of Bosnia-Herzegovina the
“Great Idea” seemed defeated forever. Rage and despair possessed the
Serbs wherever they lived, patriotic societies voiced the feeling of
the people, and vengeance was plotted. Probably it was the feeling that
this wide-spread hatred should be uprooted in the most thorough manner
that prompted Austria to make the heavy conditions that were demanded
as atonement for the crime of Sarajevo.

After Austria took the fateful step of 1908 Turkey still held the
territory just north of the Bosphorus, organized as the province of
Adrianople. She also had in Europe the provinces of Macedonia, Albania,
and the sanjak of Novi-Bazar. To drive her out of these possessions
was the object of the Balkan states. In 1911 Italy began a war against
the sultan to gain Tripoli. The Balkan States seeing their enemy
embarrassed, concluded that the hour of fate had come. They formed the
Balkan League, made up of Greece, Bulgaria, Serbia, and Montenegro, and
made ready for war. Their action alarmed the Great Powers, who brought
the Concert of Europe to bear against the League. They gave the allies
fair notice that they would not permit them to take any of the sultan’s
territory in Europe, even though a war was won against him. The reply
to this threat shows how weak the Concert had become. It was voiced by
Montenegro, the smallest of the states, whose king immediately declared
war and called on his allies to aid him in driving the pagan out of
Europe. The call was accepted gladly and an ultimatum was sent to the
sultan, who, relying on the promise of the Powers, defied his opponents.

In the war that followed Turkey was confronted by a united army of
nearly a million men. It was impossible to withstand them and in two
months most of Macedonia was lost, Constantinople was threatened,
and Turkey asked for an armistice. Negotiations began in London, the
Powers seemingly forgetting their empty threat that they “would not
permit at the end of the conflict any modification of the territorial
_status quo_ in European Turkey.” The allies demanded hard terms which
seemed about to be accepted by Turkey when by a _coup d’état_ the
“Young Turks,” a patriotic party of reformers, got possession of the
government at Constantinople and resumed the fighting. Although they
fought well, they could not withstand the large numbers that were
against them. Janina fell to the Greeks, Adrianople was taken by a
Serbo-Bulgarian force, and Scutari was taken by the Montenegrins. The
Turks now yielded definitely and negotiations for peace were resumed.

Behind the diplomatic proceedings was the following interesting
situation: Austria-Hungary was dismayed at the prospect of having a
strong and permanent league organized in the Balkans; for it would
probably make it impossible for her to realize her desire to extend
her territory in that direction. She was especially unwilling to allow
Serbia and Montenegro to hold the conquered shore of the Adriatic,
since it was here that she designed to gain additional outlets to the
seas. Italy at the same time was alarmed at the extension of Serbian
power, since she, also, did not relish the prospect of having a
strong state on the eastern side of the sea. It was with unexpected
short-sightedness, however, that she was willing to block Serbia in
order to promote the schemes of Austria, a far more formidable rival
in that quarter, if she were ever firmly established there. Both
states, therefore, appeared at London to limit the expansion of Serbia,
and Germany supported them, seemingly on the principle that she was
merely standing by the members of the Triple Alliance. It has been
supposed that she expected that Ferdinand, heir-apparent of Austria,
when he came to rule, would promote a vital union of the two great
Mid-Continental empires. If we accept this theory, we must conclude
that she had a still more vital reason for wishing Austria to have a
large Adriatic coast-line, with important commercial harbors.

These considerations ran exactly counter to Serbia’s hopes in Albania.
She had already occupied the Albanian port of Durazzo and expected to
make it the center of a fair commercial life. When ordered to withdraw
she did not dare refuse; but it was a great humiliation to her to cut
off the possibility of her future growth. For a second time Austria had
given her a vital blow, and there was another wrong to be remembered
by those Serbians who were inclined to remember. By the decree of the
Powers Albania was made an autonomous state under Turkish suzerainty,
and later on a German prince was appointed to rule it.

While these affairs were being discussed Montenegro besieged Scutari,
in northern Albania and continued operation until the place was
taken, notwithstanding the purpose of the Powers was well known.
Her courageous conduct won the admiration of lovers of brave men
everywhere. Eight days after the capture of Scutari, Austria announced
that she would enter the war if the place was not evacuated, and Italy
and Germany declared they would support her. Throughout all Slavic
countries arose a cry of indignation. In Russia especially it was loud
and bitter; and it seemed that a great war was about to begin when
King Nicholas, of Montenegro, gave the world the assurance of peace by
withdrawing his army from Scutari.

Then came that unhappy turn of affairs by which the Balkan League was
dissolved and the hope disappeared that a strong power would arise
which would take the Near East out of the position of pawn for the
greed of the Great Powers. Serbia, Greece, and Bulgaria had made an
ante-bellum agreement for the disposal of the territory they would take
from Turkey, and the first was to have a large part of Albania. Denied
this region she asked her allies to make a new allotment. Bulgaria
raised strong objection, since the new demand, if granted, would mean
that her gains would be smaller than was first agreed. Angry speeches
led to war, and after a sharp struggle Bulgaria was beaten and forced
to make peace without honor. While they were locked in the conflict
Turkey seized the opportunity to recover Adrianople, and eventually
held it. It illustrates the sordid nature of some of the Balkan states
that Rumania entered this war for purely predatory purposes. She had
remained neutral during the common effort to drive the Turk out; but
now that Bulgaria was marching to sure defeat she came into the battle
against her, and at the end of the war she demanded and was given a
large part of Bulgarian territory. The “July War,” as this stage of
the Balkan conflict is called, left the allies filled with bitter
hatred for one another, and Bulgaria, weakened as she was, felt little
inclined to lean on any of her immediate neighbors. She was ripe for
the reception of Teutonic offers of friendship, and the result was soon
seen of all men.

I have thus followed the complex story of the Balkan States to the
year 1913. Through a century of war and intrigue Serbia, Bulgaria,
Rumania, Greece, and the small state of Montenegro had emerged from the
Christian lands over which the Turks had ruled. Russia and Austria had
taken small portions of those lands and had definite plans to secure
influence over larger portions. In the Balkans Russian prestige was
great, but if a state feared it she was apt to look to Austria, or to
Germany--which was the same thing--as a means of balancing against
Russia. At the same time it was known that Russia was planning to
construct strategic lines of railroad leading to the Black Sea along
the western border of her empire, and this was considered an ominous
sign for the future. Altogether, the “tinder-box” was ready for
ignition.

As to Turkey, her fortunes shrank steadily. At the end of the Balkan
War she retained only 1,900,000 subjects in Europe, inhabitants of
the district around Adrianople. She was becoming a distinctly Asiatic
power, and the sultan must have felt that his hold on Constantinople
was precarious. At the same time, as we shall see later on, Great
Britain had secured a foothold on the shores of the Persian Gulf, and
Russia was extending her influence in Persia, two threats from the
eastward. Any far sighted Turk could see that his country was in danger
of being crushed in a vise of foreign aggression. To which of the great
states should Turkey turn for that protection which had long been her
safety? Not to Russia, whose ambition was for Constantinople itself,
nor to Great Britain, who seemed to desire the Euphrates Valley, and
who was safely established in Egypt. In her extremity she listened to
the suggestions of German wooers, who promised industrial development,
railroads, and financial aid. Here was laid the foundation of
Turko-German sympathy which was to be very important in the Great War.

After a calamity has occurred it is easy to point out the course by
which it might have been avoided. It seems certain that if we stood
again where the world stood in 1914 we should not do what we did in
1914. So we can see in what respects the events of the Balkan history
went wrong. But the men who settled the crises of the past were not
able to see what we see. They had the same blindness for the future
that we have for that which lies before us now. They fumbled their
problems as most men fumble problems, as we shall, perhaps, go on
fumbling until the end of time. It is asking much to expect that
statesmen shall be as wise as we who review their deeds.

But there are great facts in history which it is possible to know and
use with profit. One of them is the incompetency of the principle
of the Concert of Europe to deal with a situation like that we have
reviewed in the Balkans. Concert predicates a group of satisfied great
states, without over-reaching ambitions, who are willing to unite
their efforts to restrain small states, or even one large state, from
a course which shall force the rest of the world into conflict. When
a group of great states have united to carry out a certain policy,
and another tries to restrain the first group, concert is in great
danger of breaking down. That was the situation in the Balkans. These
states were drawn into the whirl of general European politics, and they
intensified its velocity at one particular corner, so that what may
be contemplated as a harmonious rotary movement broke into a twisting
tornado. If, when the present war is over, the nations of the world
undertake to go on under the old system, trusting to concert as the
means of avoiding war, there is no reason to expect that the future
will be less turbulent than the past.




CHAPTER VII

GERMAN IDEALS AND ORGANIZATION


When wars begin between nations we usually see the leaders of thought
on each side busy developing distrust among their own citizens for the
people against whom they are fighting. In accordance with this fact,
the people of the United States have read a great deal since August,
1914, to make them think very unkindly of Germany.

This chapter is not a plea for the Germans, and I agree that they did
unnecessarily cruel and impossible things in Belgium. It is not to be
denied that they played a most unwise part in the war game, when they
tried to steal a march on France by invading through Belgium, a thing
they were pledged not to do. It pays to keep faith; and when a nation
does not keep faith other nations have no recourse but to treat it as
if it were a pirate. If they do otherwise, the whole game will become
a pirate’s game, and good faith will disappear from international
relations. If Germany may violate Belgium at will, why may she not
violate Switzerland, Holland, or any other state that stands in her
way; and who would not expect her to do it, if no powers faced her that
were willing and able to dispute her will?

It is not improbable that German leaders understood this as well as we
who now pass it under review. They must have made their calculations on
arousing the opposition of the world and proceeded with the expectation
that they would gain so much by their sweep through forbidden Belgium
that they could defy the world. And if things had gone well for them,
the calculation would have been well made. For if Germany had carried
France off her feet and placed her in a position to offer no further
menace during the next ten years, and if she had dealt a similar blow
to Russia, what power could have checked her in the future decade? By
glancing at the situation in Europe today we may see how an intrenched
Germany defies the united and unwhipped world. How much more might she
not have had her way, if the thrust through Belgium had succeeded!

Let us suppose that the game of bad faith had proved successful as
planned, what would have been the result? Probably Great Britain would
have wakened slowly to her peril, but her position was such that she
could have done nothing. Her fleet would have been useless against an
enemy that rules on land. Her army could not have met the combined
Teutonic armies, and she would have had no allies. Meanwhile, Germany
and Austria at their leisure could have digested the Balkans and
drawing Turkey into their net could have established a “Mittel-Europa”
that would have left the rest of the world at their mercy. These were
alluring stakes to play for, and it is not hard to see how a nation
whose leaders have thrown aside the homely motto that “Righteousness
exalteth a nation” would be willing to take a chance in order to obtain
them.

When we think of such things as these we are in danger of concluding
that they represent the real Germany. We look back to that Germany of
the past which we saw in our youth, whose music we have heard all our
lives, whose Goethe we have read, whose scholarship we have built upon,
and whose toys have amused us and our children through many decades
and ask ourselves whether or not we were mistaken in our ideas of
Germany. Are there two Germanies, and if so, which is the true Germany?
Probably the answer is that each is the real Germany manifesting
herself in different moods. Fundamentally we have an intense and
emotional people, swayed in one instance by artistic emotions, in
another by the love of exact research for facts, in another by the
feeling of domesticity, and in still another by the powerful impulse
of a great national egoism. They are a people who can love much,
hate much, play much, sacrifice much, and serve well when called
into service. In their war-maddened mood they have stained a fair
reputation, and they are now trying to think that the stain will not
matter if they can only fight through to victory. But nations are like
men in this that however successful one may become personally he never
gets to be so great that he can afford to carry a tarnished reputation.

Let us turn to the Germany of old and see if we cannot observe the
process by which she came to her present state of mind. While I realize
that it is absolutely necessary for the world to crush her attempt
to rule Europe, I cannot find it in my heart to hate her. She has
risen to such a state of efficiency in social organization and in the
capacity to spread the light of civilization that she commands respect
from thinking foes. It is the duty of the world to chasten the spirit
of arrogance out of her, but to leave her sound and able to deal with
the future in that way in which she is so well fitted to play a strong
and beneficial part. If ever a great people needed the discipline of
disaster to teach them that nations, like men, should do to others as
they wish others to do to them, that nation is the Germany of today. To
understand in what way this splendid state has run away from its past
we shall have to glance at its history in the recent past.

For a point of departure let us take the Seven Years’ War. This
struggle was the result of the ambition of young Frederick, a strong
and unethical king of Prussia. When he came to the throne he found
that a parsimonious father had left him a full treasury, an excellent
army, and a united kingdom, while fate had sent the neighboring state
Austria, a young woman for ruler and an army that was not formidable.
It was a favorable opportunity to seize Silesia, which Prussia
considered necessary to her welfare, and to which she had the flimsiest
pretense of right. The rapacity of Frederick, her king, cannot be
justified on moral grounds, and it threw Europe into commotions for
which nearly a quarter of a century was needed for settlement. The last
phase of this quarter-of-a-century was the Seven Years’ War, 1756-1763.
By the time it began Frederick of Prussia was looked upon by his
neighbors as a menace to Europe; and Austria, France, and Russia united
to crush him. He had a friend in Great Britain, who was generally found
among the foes of France. In the great war he waged through seven years
he fought off foes first on one side and then on the other until the
war ended at last with Prussia still unconquered.

If hard and valiant fighting and solicitude for the welfare of his
country could redeem the error of the invasion of Silesia the Seven
Years’ War would relieve Frederick, whom posterity calls “Frederick
the Great,” of all odium on account of the thoughtless way in which
he began his wars. Unlike the present kaiser, he began a long reign
rashly and ended it wisely. Administrative reforms and a policy of
peace with his neighbors made his last years a period of happiness for
Prussia.

But Silesia fixed a firm hold on the Prussian imagination. Long
justified as an act necessary to the safety of the Fatherland, and
therefore permissible, it has given sanction for the idea that wrong
may be done that good shall result, if only the state is to be
benefitted. It is a false doctrine, and it can do nothing but lead to
wars. Nations are under the same obligations to do right as individuals.

The next phase of German history which has interest for us in
connection with this study is that which lies between the years 1806
and 1813. It was a period of deep humiliation at the hands of Napoleon.
The small states were huddled together in a Confederation which was, in
fact, a tool of the Emperor of France, and Prussia lay like a trembling
and crushed thing in his hand. No living man who hates Germany for the
deeds of the present war could wish her a worse fate than Napoleon
inflicted on her after the battle of Jena in 1806. He insulted the
king, burdened the people with requisitions, and limited their armies.
It was the acme of national shame for the nation that is now so strong.

The cause of these woes was the lack of organization, and perhaps
Napoleon did the nation a service when he beat the Prussians into a
realization of it. No nation is so poor that it has not reformers who
see in what way its evils may be corrected. In the days that preceded
the calamities of which I speak Prussia had her prophets crying to deaf
men. Misfortune opened the ears of the rulers so that the prophets
might be heard. Reforms were adopted out of which has grown the Germany
of today. They all looked toward the unification of national energy,
whatever its form; but they are expressed in three notable ways:
universal military service, the correction of waste energy in civil
life, and the inculcation of the spirit of obedience to authority. On
these principles chiefly a new Germany was built.

We have said a great deal recently about crushing the German military
system. Probably we do not know just what we mean in saying this. At
least, it was not always our habit to decry the system. Many a time we
have spoken with admiration of the reforms of Scharnhorst, of the glory
of Leipzig and of the services of Blücher at Waterloo. If we stop to
think we shall see that our real objection is the purpose for which the
German military system has been used. And it seems that if it is to be
broken into pieces it must be opposed with a stronger system built on a
similar plan.

The next period that expresses Germany’s peculiar spirit is the era of
Bismarck, 1862 to 1890. It was the time of the cult of iron. Bismarck
was the “Iron Chancellor,” the nation offered its enemies “blood and
iron.” Iron cannon, iron words, and iron laws became the ideals of the
people. Statesmen, historians, poets, editors, professors, and all
other patriots began to worship according to the rite of the new cult.
And iron entered into the blood of the Germans.

To carry out Bismarck’s policy it was necessary to break down a
promising liberal movement that seemed on the point of giving Prussia
responsible government. It was his faith that a united Germany must
hew her way into the position of great power in Europe, and in order
to have a state that could do this there must be a strong central
authority, able to direct all the resources of the state to the
desired end. The large number of small nobles had long ago formed the
celebrated Junker autocracy, a body with like ideals. He gave their
restless energy a more definite political and military object, and made
them take places as parts of his great state machine.

He had his reward. In 1866 he fought a decisive war against Prussia’s
old enemy, Austria, and won it so quickly that even the Prussians were
astonished. In 1870-1871 he threw the state against France in a war
that left the land of Napoleon as completely at his feet as Prussia had
been at the feet of the Corsican. And then in the moment of exultation
over the victory he founded the German empire by uniting with Prussia
the numerous smaller German states. There is much to support the
suggestion that a similar stroke is held in reserve to create a
Mittel-Europa of Germany and Austria-Hungary as a final glory of the
present war, if Germany shows herself able to carry off the victory.

Bismarck’s ambition for Germany was to hold a position of arbiter in
Continental affairs. He felt that this was the best way to make his
country safe from hostile combinations, and it met his ideal of the
dignity to which Germany ought to attain. He achieved his desire in
the Three Emperors’ League and the Triple Alliance. Predominance in
influence was the height of his ambition. The conquest of new lands,
and the support of industry and trade by a policy of territorial
expansion, were not within his plans. He was a man of an older
generation to whom a predominance among the Great Powers was better
than chasing the rainbow of world empire.

In 1888 died Wilhelm I, the king whom Bismarck made Emperor. He was
an honest man who loved the simple and sound Germany in which he
was reared. At this time the leading men of 1871 were passing from
power and a group was coming on the scene who were young men in the
intoxicating times of Sedan and Metz. A new emperor came to the throne,
possessing great energy and the capacity of forming vast plans. He was
eleven years old when the empire was proclaimed at Versailles, the age
at which ordinary boys begin to wake from the dreams of childhood.
From such dreams Wilhelm II passed to dreams of imperial glory. The
idea of bigness of authority that he thus formed has remained with him
to this day. Add the effects of an impulsive disposition and an unusual
amount of confidence in himself and you will account for the peculiar
gloss spread over a character that is strong and otherwise wholesome.

Early in his reign he gave ground for alarm by several acts that are
hardly to be described in a less severe word than “bumptious.” He
dismissed Bismarck from the Chancellorship, seemingly for no other
reason than that he wished a chancellor who would be more obedient to
the imperial will, and he uttered many sentiments which caused sober
men to wonder what kind of emperor he was going to be. But as the years
passed it was noticed that all his aberrations fell short of disaster,
and as he was very energetic and devoted to efficiency in civil and
military matters the world came at last to regard him with real esteem.

When the present war began the kaiser became its leader, as was his
duty and privilege. Opinion in hostile countries pronounced him the
agent responsible for its outbreak. Around his striking personality
have collected many stories of dark complexion. At this time it is not
possible to test their accuracy, but it is safe to say that many of
them are chiefly assumption. On the other hand, it is undoubted that he
is now a firm friend of the military party, and that he supports the
autocracy in its purpose to carry the war to the bitter end. He has
been a diligent war lord and he has shown a willingness to share the
sacrifices of the people. Stories of apparent reliability that have
come out of Germany in recent months imply that he has steadily gained
in popularity during the conflict, while most of the other members of
his family have lost.

If it is important to clear thinking to see the kaiser in an impartial
light, it is equally necessary to understand the German _Kultur_. This
term is used in Germany to indicate the mass of ideas and habits of
thought of a people. It applies to art and industry, to religion and
war, to whatever the human mind directs. From the German’s standpoint
we have a _Kultur_ of our own. We have no corresponding term, nor
concept, and we cannot realize all he means in using the term if we do
not put ourselves in his place. Now it is true that the German has won
great success in intellectual ways. Scholarship, scientific invention,
the application of art to industry, and well planned efficiency in
social organization are his in a large degree. He is proud of his
achievements; and when the war began he felt that it was the German
mission to give this _Kultur_ to other peoples. From his standpoint, a
Germanized world would be a world made happy. It was an honest opinion,
and it went far to support his desire for expansion.

The Germans are a docile people with respect to their superiors,
and this trait is a condition of their _Kultur_. It is traditional
in Germany for the peasant to obey his lord, the lord to obey his
over-lord, and the over-lord to obey his ruler. To the kaiser look
all the people in a sense which no citizen of the United States can
understand without using a fair amount of imagination. The lords and
over-lords constitute the _Junkers_, who in the modern military system
make up the officer class. A high sense of authority runs through the
whole population, the upper classes knowing how to give orders and the
lower classes knowing how to take them.

Before the battle of Jena, 1806, the Prussian army was made up of
peasants forced to serve under the nobles, who took the offices.
Townsmen were excluded from the army. The peasant’s forced service
lasted twenty years. The system was as inefficient as it was unequal,
and a commission was appointed to reform it. The result was the modern
system of universal service, put into complete operation in 1813. After
a hundred years it is possible to see some of the effects of the system
on the ideals of the people. It has taught them to work together in
their places, formed habits of promptness and cleanliness, and lessened
the provincialism of the lower classes. It has been a great training
school in nationalism, preserving the love of country and instilling in
the minds of the masses a warm devotion to the military traditions of
the nation.

It has also produced results of a questionable value. By fostering
the military spirit it has developed a desire for war, on the same
principle that a boy in possession of a sharp hatchet has a strong
impulse to hack away at his neighbor’s shrubbery. It is probable
that the temptation to use a great and superior army was a vital fact
in bringing on the present war. Furthermore, the wide-spread habit
of docility leaves a people without self-assertion and enables their
rulers to impose upon them. As to the influence of universal service in
promoting militarism, that has been frequently mentioned.

On the other hand, it should be borne in mind that not all states that
have had universal military training have been saddled with these
evils. France, for example, has had universal training without becoming
obsessed with the passion for war and without the loss of popular
individualism. It seems well to say that universal training itself does
not produce the evils sometimes attributed to it. In Germany, at least,
it seems that it was the purpose for which the army existed, and not
the army itself, that developed militarism and brought other unhappy
effects.

Probably the German army before the war was the most efficient great
human machine then in existence. There was less waste in it and less
graft than in any other army. Since the army included all the men of
the empire at some stage or other of their existence, it was a great
training school in organization. Its effects on German history are
hardly to be exaggerated.

I have said that military organization alone was not sufficient to make
the modern Germany. It was also necessary to give the nation a definite
national purpose, and this was the task of its intellectual leaders.
The purpose itself was expressed in the idea of German nationality.
By a bold stretch of fancy every part of Europe that had once been
ruled by Germans, that spoke the German language, or that could be
considered as a part that ought to speak that language was fixed upon
as territory to be brought within the authority of the Fatherland.
It was in accordance with this principle that Schleswig-Holstein was
taken from Denmark in 1864 and Alsace-Lorraine in 1871. Here the
march of annexation paused. Bismarck was too wise to carry the theory
to an extreme; but a growing number of writers and speakers in the
empire took up the idea and kept it before the people with winning
persistence. It is thus that Pan-Germanism has come to be one of the
great facts in German public opinion. By preaching race unity with
patriotic zeal the intellectual leaders have established a powerful
propaganda of expansion.

Of the men most prominently associated with this movement especial
attention must be given to Heinrich von Treitschke, for years professor
of Modern and Contemporary History at the University of Berlin, whose
remarkable influence reached all classes of people. He was a handsome
man with an open face that invited admiration without appearing to
care whether it was given or not. When he spoke the auditor heard “a
raucous, half-strangled, uneasy voice” and noticed that his movements
were mechanical and his utterances were without regard to the pauses
that usually stand for commas and periods, while his pleasant facial
expression had no apparent relation to what he was saying. The
explanation was that he was so deaf that he did not hear himself speak.
That such a speaker could fire the heart of a nation is evidence that
he was filled with unusual earnestness and sympathy.

He had great love of country, and if he exalted royalty and strong
government it was because he thought that Germany would reach her
highest authority through them. It was no selfish or incompetent king
that he worshiped, but one that lived righteously and sought diligently
to promote the interest of the people. He held that the nobility should
serve as thoroughly as the common men. Strong government in his idea
did not mean privilege, as ordinarily understood, but vital energy in
all the organs of administration, efficiently directed by a will that
was not hampered by the contrarywise tugging of individual opinions.

Treitschke’s penetrating eloquence was heard throughout the land.
Editors, preachers of religion, schoolmasters, authors, members of
the legislative assemblies, high officials, and even ministers of
state came to his class-room and went away to carry his ideas into
other channels. He inspired the men who did the actual thinking for
the nation. All his efforts were expended for what he considered the
enhancement of Germany’s position among nations.

In giving him his due we must not overlook his faults. He was narrow
in his ideas of international relations. His exaltation of Germany
would have left other nations at her mercy. He seems to have had small
respect for the principle of live-and-let-live among states. As much as
any one in his country he was responsible for the idea that the British
are a pack of hypocrites, offering inferior races the Bible with one
hand and opium with the other. That they had not a good record with
respect to the opium trade is true, but it was sheer narrowness to make
it the chief characteristic of a people who have done a great work in
behalf of the backward races.

Although Treitschke wrote many pamphlets on topics of current interest,
all bearing upon what he considered the destiny of Germany, he was
preëminently a historian. It was by telling the story of Germany since
the revival of national feeling after the battle of Jena that he wished
to serve best the generation in which he lived. For him it was the
historian to whom was committed the task of making the citizen realize
what place he had in the nation’s complex of duties and hopes.

He came upon the scene when history had become fixed upon the basis of
accuracy and detached research. Men like Leopold von Ranke had insisted
that history should deal with the cold exploitation of universal laws.
For them Treitschke was a bad historian, and they used their influence
to prevent his appointment at the University of Berlin. He was a
Chauvinist, undoubtedly, and his _History of Germany in the Nineteenth
Century_ is a highly colored picture of what he conceived the reader
should know about the history of his country. It is a work written to
arouse the enthusiasm of the people for their country, rather than
to instruct them in the universal laws of human development; and it
would be a sad day for the world if all history were written as he
wrote this. But it was a powerful appeal to national pride and energy.
It played a great part in the formation of the Germany with which
we are concerned in this chapter, the striving, self-confident, and
aspiring empire that set for itself the task of dominating the European
continent.

This chapter is not written to reconcile American readers to the German
side of the controversy that now engages the attention of all men. I
wish to enable the reader to have a clear view of the people with whom
we fight. It is they with whom we must deal in building up the system
out of which the future is to be constructed again; and we shall not
know how to deal with them if we do not see their point of view and
know what they are thinking about.

If in some of their ideals they are superior to other peoples, and if
their organization of individuals into the state has some elements
of strength not found in other systems, it is not for us to seek to
destroy the advantage they have won. It would be better for us to adopt
their good points, in order that we might the more surely defeat them
on the field of battle. Having won the victory we desire, we should
certainly not seek to destroy that which we cannot replace. Live and
let live, a principle which Germans have ignored in some important
respects, must be recognized after the military ambition of Germany is
broken, if we are to have an enduring peace.




CHAPTER VIII

THE FAILURE OF THE OLD EUROPEAN SYSTEM


Much has been written to prove that one side or the other was
responsible for the present war. Minute facts, as the words in a
dispatch, or the time at which the troops were mobilized, or whether
or not a preliminary summons of troops to the colors was in itself an
act of mobilization, have become the subjects of bitter debate. Such
questions will have to be settled by the historians of the future
years: they cannot be discussed here with any profit, since this book
is an appeal to the reason of men on each side of the controversy.

Back of the events of July, 1914, is a more fundamental cause of the
war. It is the breakdown of the systems of concert and balance to
which the powers had trusted themselves. Castlereagh and Metternich
allowed themselves to slip into these theories, when they set aside
the suggestion of a federated Europe, which came from Alexander I.
Granted that the tsar’s dream was too ethereal for a world steeped in
selfishness, it does not follow that a policy entirely devoted to the
balancing of selfishness with selfishness would have preserved peace.

On the other hand, we must admit that nations are not idealists.
Selfishness is their doctrine. So long as the project of a federation
is viewed idealistically it is practically impossible. But if it ever
comes to be admitted by the people who count in political things that
it is for the interests of the nations to adopt it, that is, if it is
brought within what we may call the sphere of selfishness, it ceases to
be idealistic and comes to be a subject worthy of the consideration of
the practical statesman.

Furthermore, the political philosopher has ever to answer the question,
“What about the future?” What are we going to do after the present
debauch of waste and murder is over? Are we to trust the world to
the same old forces that brought us this ruin? One says that human
nature is the same forever, that it learns only in the hard school of
experience, and that it must fight its wars as the price it pays for
being human nature. To such a man the Napoleonic wars did all that
could be expected of them when they so impressed the world with the
cost of war that a system was adopted which gave the world a measure
of peace for a hundred years. “What more can you ask?” said such a
philosopher to me. In humble responsibility to the throne of reason I
reply that we can try as intelligent beings to remove the war madness
permanently, making it our duty to posterity to do the best we can.
Some generation must make the start, or we shall wring our hands
forever.

In this chapter I wish to show in what way the old system crumbled
before the desire of world power. It seems a vicious system by virtue
of its innate qualities of selfishness, and it is all the more to be
feared because its subtle spirit gets control of our own hearts as
well as the hearts of other men. While our opponents--Germany and
Austria--were following the system to its bitter conclusion, our
friends--Great Britain, France, and Italy--were doing nearly the
same things, but in a slightly different way. And there is no reason
to expect that under the continuation of the balancing of great and
ambitious world powers we shall have more respect for the rights of
one another than we had in the past.

The system of Balance of Power flourished best in Bismarck’s time.
It was his strong personality that held together the Three Emperors’
League for a brief season and the Triple Alliance for a longer period.
Each of these groups had certain interests in common which gave them
coherence: Bismarck alone knew how to exploit these mutual advantages
and lessen the jars of clashing feelings. His objects were made easier
by the fact that most of the other nations of Europe at that time had
developed quarrels of their own. Great Britain and Russia were at
swords’ points over the Far Eastern question, and France and Great
Britain had not forgotten their century old antagonism, which only a
minor dispute was sufficient to set aflame.

Moreover, Great Britain was engaged in a vast task of empire building.
Manufactures increased rapidly in the United Kingdom, an ever growing
trade threw out ever expanding tentacles to the remotest parts of the
world, and the growth of the colonies produced greater prosperity at
home and abroad than the most hopeful Briton had previously thought
within the bounds of probability. She was too busy with this splendid
process of internal prosperity to take notice of what was happening on
the Continent, so long as her own interests were not threatened. From
her standpoint Bismarck’s policy of preserving peace through the means
of a German predominating influence was a welcome relief from other
burdens.

This state of affairs was prolonged for at least fifteen years after
the death of Bismarck. Kaiser Wilhelm II’s temperamental impetuousness
did not break up the balance that had been established, although many
prophets had foretold such a thing. As the corner-stone of the Triple
Alliance Germany was looked upon as the protector of European peace,
and the kaiser, it is said, was pleased to regard himself as the man
especially responsible for that policy.

It is difficult to say when and how this happy situation began to
be undermined and whose was the responsibility. One cause of the
rupture was the rapid growth of German manufactures and trade, which
brought about stern competition between the business interests of
Germany and Great Britain. The newspapers of the two nations, like
all other newspapers of modern times, were closely connected with the
capitalistic interests of the respective states, and voiced the alarm
and antipathy of the industrial classes. Thus the people of Germany
and the people of Britain were stimulated to a condition of mutual
distrust. They believed that each practiced the most disreputable
tricks of competition against the other, and each talked of destroying
the industry of the other. It is difficult to say who is responsible
for the beginning of commercial rivalry.

Late in the last century Germany began to enlarge her navy with the
evident purpose of making it rival the navy of Great Britain. Her
justification was found in the idea that a navy was necessary to
protect the great commerce that she was building up. At the same time
German writers began to make many criticisms on the British claim of
being mistress of the seas. “Freedom of the seas” became a phrase of
comfort in their mouths. It is not clear that it meant what it seemed
to say; for the seas were as free to the Germans in times of peace as
to any other people, and Germany’s plan to build a great fleet that
would defeat the British fleet would establish that same kind of rule
at sea that Great Britain through her naval superiority then held.

Now it is very certain that Germany had a perfect right to enter each
of these two fields of endeavor. The contests of industry are open to
all, and the laws of peace protect them. She had the right, also, to
build up her navy, although she should not have expected to overtop the
British navy specifically without arousing the hostility of the British
people. The insular position of the United Kingdom and its relations
with its colonies are such that a navy is its surest protection if
assailed in war; and to fall into a second position is to hold its life
at the permission of another state. Germany must have seen this phase
of the situation. Her statesmen were poor leaders of men if they did
not realize that they were entering upon a rivalry in which was the
possibility of great resistance.

Another phase of the opposition that was steadily rising against
Germany was the general alarm at the growth of her military power. Her
army and navy ever increased in size and readiness for that initial
rush to victory which is half the struggle in modern war. At the same
time German leaders did not disguise their desire for the enlargement
of German territory on the Continent. The Pan-German party made a great
deal of noise, and other nations were not reassured by being told that
the party was not as strong as its agitation seemed to indicate.

Now and again one read in some German paper an assertion to the effect
that Germany was bound to become the dominant power in Europe and that
she would next turn on the United States. How many Americans have
not heard some over-confident German friend make a prophecy of like
import? It was evident that many Germans regarded the great republic
of the West as an over-fattened commercial nation without the power of
resistance and destined at the proper time to furnish rich nourishment
for their conquering arms. That we considered these thoughts but the
idle boasts of a nation intoxicated by success did not lessen the
conviction of ourselves and others that Germany was running into a
state of mind that required coöperative measures of resistance on the
part of people who might become victims of her infatuation.

While these two processes of national feeling ran their courses,
several political events, which have already been described added
vigor to the antagonism that was rising against Germany. Her attitude
toward the Boers when they were at war against Great Britain was one,
Delcassé’s wise adjustment of the Fashoda incident was another, his
clever formation of the _Entente Cordiale_ between France and Britain
was another, the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese alliance was still
another, the defeat of Russia by Japan and her elimination as a threat
against British interests in India was another, and the formation of
the Triple _Entente_ by Great Britain, France, and Russia, announced in
1907, was the final act of the series. Great Britain was not only again
seriously concerned in Continental affairs, but a combination had been
formed of three great European nations, with the strongest power of the
East as a flying buttress, to hold back the much dreaded aggressions
of the Triple Alliance, consisting of Germany, Austria, and Italy. The
Balance of Power had come to its most logical state of development;
for instead of having one great state balancing between the other
states around it, we now had the great states of the world ranged in
two camps, each side checking the other in the belief that in so doing
it was preserving the world from war.

It is hard to establish a balance when two opposing sides are strong
and mutually jealous of one another; for the opposition of forces is
then formed to secure mutual advantages, and not to promote the common
interest through the preservation of equilibrium. In such a case one
side or the other, possibly each side, is apt to fancy itself the
stronger, and if it acts on that assumption it arouses the apprehension
of the other which finds itself tempted to make a counter stroke.
Once such a step is taken equilibrium is lost. This is what happened
in 1914. The train of events that led up to the destruction of the
international balance is now to be described.

Here we must go back to the days when Delcassé was foreign secretary
in Paris, 1898-1905. One of his achievements was to come to agreement
with Spain and Italy in reference to the northern coast of Africa. He
effected a treaty with the former nation by which French and Spanish
spheres of influence in Morocco were defined, and another with Italy
by which the right of France in Tunis was accorded in exchange for
recognition of the right of Italy to Tripoli and Cyrenaica.

Making this treaty by Italy did not constitute treason to the Triple
Alliance, since it was clearly advantageous for Italy without
infringing the rights of either Germany or Austria; but it alarmed
Germany, already drawing close to Turkey, because the object of Italian
policy was to get territory over which Turkey had a vital claim. Nor
was it pleasant for the kaiser to see one of the members of the Triple
Alliance acting in coöperation with the members of the _Entente_ in so
important a matter.

Taking these achievements in connection with the formation of the Dual
Alliance and the mutual approach of France and Great Britain, Germany
had reason to feel that she was being isolated. Her whole population
resented this turn of events, seeing in it a sort of challenge hurled
forth by France, who at last found herself strong enough to assume
a position of self-assertion. It is true that Delcassé only placed
Germany in a position of isolation like that which Bismarck imposed on
France for many years; and it was, in strict logic, as fair for him
to treat Germany thus as for Bismarck to isolate France. Let Germany
submit to her fate, as France submitted, when she had to submit. But
we are not dealing with logical matters here. It is a plain fact that
confronts us. Germany, who had been strong through three decades
without seeking to expand her territory, suddenly realized that
her opponents were forming a combination stronger than hers, their
acquisition of territory that followed set her in a rage, and she made
plans for getting her share in the world that was to be taken. Under
the system of balance then recognized as the proper means of regulating
international relations her course was a natural result of Delcassé’s
policy.

The particular portion of the earth to which she turned her eyes was
Turkey. While she supported the plans of Austria-Hungary to acquire
territory on the Adriatic, she herself looked further to the East. She
encouraged the party at Constantinople known as the “Young Turks,”
she furnished improved arms to the Turkish army, she formed plans
to establish her influence in Palestine, and she projected a great
railroad to Bagdad in the center of the Euphrates-Tigris Valley. It was
a sphere of influence that might be considered more than a fair offset
for the lands her rivals were about to gain.

At the same time Germany found a means of restoring her prestige, which
was sorely wilted by the progress of her rivals. The occasion arose in
connection with France’s occupation of Morocco, which had begun without
the aid or consent of the kaiser.

Morocco had long been under a line of independent sultans. Most of
her commerce was with Great Britain although German capitalists had
received concessions within her border. As the country next to the
French province of Algeria, France looked upon it as her own particular
sphere of influence. We have already seen that Italy conceded this
claim, 1901, while France conceded Italy’s claim to Tripoli and
Cyrenaica. In 1904 France conceded Great Britain’s practical supremacy
in Egypt and in return was assured the protectorate over Morocco. She
asked no concession from Germany but came to an agreement with Spain,
who had a small strip of territory south of the Straits of Gibraltar.

In 1905 Delcassé was quietly preparing to carry out his plan for the
development of Morocco, when the kaiser landed in Tangiers without
the slightest warning, and announced in a public address that he had
come to visit his friend, the independent sultan of Morocco, in whose
country all foreign nations had equal rights. The speech was received
by the world as a challenge to France and a means of announcing that
Germany was no longer to be ignored. The moment of the landing at
Tangiers was well chosen by the kaiser; for only three weeks earlier
Russia, the ally of France, had been defeated by the Japanese at Mukden
and could give her no assistance.

In this unfortunate situation it was necessary for France to bend
before the storm. She agreed to submit the whole Moroccan question
to an international congress, thus appealing to the principle of the
Concert of Europe, and when she learned that the kaiser demanded that
she dismiss the minister whose hands had been played so skillfully
against Germany, she agreed to that also.

The dismissal of Delcassé recalls an incident of 1807. In that year
Napoleon forced the king of Prussia to dismiss Stein, his great
minister, who was bending all his efforts to reëstablish Prussia on a
war footing. It marked the triumph of Napoleon’s power for the time
being, but it was a futile action; for Stein out of office under such
circumstances had more influence than ever, and the shameful way in
which he was treated only emphasized Prussia’s humiliation and made the
Prussians more determined than ever to assert their national power.
Similar results in France in 1905 followed the stab given to that
nation’s faithful and efficient minister.

The international congress assembled at Algeciras in 1906. It adopted
a compromise decision, which gave something to each side and satisfied
neither. Germany was supposed to have gained when the congress
recognized the territorial integrity of Morocco under the sovereignty
of the sultan and guaranteed equal rights of trade in the country to
the citizens of all the signatory powers. On the other hand, France
and Spain were jointly to have the right to instruct and furnish
officers for the Moroccan police force. Winning in a quarrel rarely
makes the victor think well of the vanquished. Certainly Germany,
who had now blocked the plans of France, was not less bitter in her
attitude toward that nation; while France, feeling that she had been
caught at a disadvantage, smothered her indignation and waited for the
opportunity to make things even.

In 1907 disturbances occurred in Moroccan ports and French marines
were landed to preserve order. When they were not withdrawn in a year
Germany protested and an irritating diplomatic discussion followed. At
last Germany was persuaded to submit the point actually at issue to
the Hague tribunal, whose decision was not conclusive and satisfied
neither side. Then a Franco-German convention was held to pass on the
rights of each nation in Morocco. Its decision, given in February,
1909, announced that the interest of Germany in the province was
only economic; and as France agreed to give equal protection in such
matters, the kaiser promised he would not interfere in the country. In
each of these incidents war seemed about to begin, and Europe awaited
the results in great anxiety. When the clouds lifted the nations
breathed freely again.

Still there was no way under the existing system to solve the
difficulty that presented itself, had Germany only decided that she
would not trust her cause to peaceful negotiation. The fact that she
took such a step was to her own people but a mark of the kaiser’s
love of peace. This and similar incidents, in which the militarists
carried their country to the verge of war only to be held back by the
hand of the emperor served to lay the foundation for that popular
belief in Germany that a peace policy had been steadily followed under
provocations and that Europe was indebted to Wilhelm II for immunity
from war. In reality the system of balance of power had needlessly
brought the world to the verge of a bitter and unnecessary conflict.

Almost immediately after the war clouds lifted Europe had evidence of
the small amount of tolerance the leading classes of Germany had for
the slightest manifestation of the spirit of compromise in the matter
under discussion. The chancellor under whom the recent settlement was
made was von Bülow, who thought it better to adjust so small a quarrel
than to incur the responsibility of war. His action received the stern
denunciation of the military party. So strong was the criticism that he
was forced to retire from office, his place going to Bethmann-Hollweg,
who had the support of the militarists. The only explanation to be
advanced for this turn of the affair is that the German national spirit
was so much excited by the long agitation of men like Treitschke that a
concession which others might consider only trifling seemed to them a
sacrifice of national honor.

In 1911 occurred a third Moroccan incident, in which Bethmann-Hollweg
took occasion to recover some of the attitude of assertiveness that
von Bülow had given up in 1909. In pursuance of their plan to extend
their protectorate over Morocco the French occupied Fez with a military
force. A short time later the German warship _Panther_ entered the
Moroccan port of Agadir, ostensibly to protect German property. It was
soon known that the German government proposed to hold the _Panther_ at
Agadir until the French withdrew from Fez. The war spirit again flared
up. Russia still suffered from the wounds received from the hands
of the Japanese, which Germany well knew; but Great Britain was in
fighting condition and announced her support of France. After a short
discussion Germany took a more complaisant attitude, and a settlement
was made whereby the French were allowed a protectorate over Morocco
on condition that they guarantee an “open door” in Moroccan trade and
transfer to Germany two valuable strips of territory in the French
Congo region.

Again Europe breathed easily, and again wise men reflected that no real
settlement had been made. France had been bluffed out of a valuable
portion of her Congo colony and was not disposed to endure the affront
longer than was necessary. Some day Russia would be fully restored
to her strength and ready to help her ally in the face of German
aggression. Until then France would have to yield. Meanwhile she was
consoled by the reflection that Great Britain had pronounced for her
openly. That was something to take to heart. The great sea power,
though slow to anger, was at last conscious of her danger if Germany
overran France and seized a channel port.

On the other hand, Germany was not fully pleased at the outcome of
the affair. The appearance of Great Britain in it was an indication
that the _Entente_ was a thing of vitality. Germany had been forced
to moderate her demands, taking colonial territory while her whole
thought for the future was not developing African colonies but curbing
the power of France. Not only was France not checked, but she was much
strengthened in a vital part of her power. She had acquired lands in
just the region that she needed them to carry out her ambition to
control the western end of the Mediterranean. If some day Spain were to
become a republic, could she fail to establish cordial relations with
the republic of France, and thus be swept into the anti-German group?
It may well be that in these reflections were born two German impulses:
first to win Great Britain to some kind of a compromise with Germany,
detaching her, at least for a time, from the _Entente_; and second, to
strike a vital blow before Russia was entirely recovered. Within the
next three years she acted on each of these impulses.

At the same time it became evident that the Triple Alliance was
crumbling, and this was another source of anxiety to Germany. It meant
that she should hasten her steps if she was to carry forward her great
purpose. It was in September, 1911, while the Agadir incident was still
unsettled, that Italy began the war with Turkey to establish control
of Tripoli and Cyrenaica. In view of Germany’s well-known friendliness
with Turkey, this step was most unexpected. It could only mean that
Italy was not disposed to subordinate her own interests to those of
Germany at Constantinople. If she had not felt certain of support by
the _Entente_ powers, in case Germany turned on her, she would hardly
have ventured to begin the war.

Another advance made by _Entente_ powers within the period under
consideration was in Persia. This ancient state was in sad disorder.
Weak and unpatriotic shahs, bold bands of brigands, and foreign
intrigues plunged it into such a condition that it invited the
domination of foreign nations. Russia approached from the north, and
Great Britain appeared in the south, where rich oil fields had caught
her eye.

After some initial gains the two powers came to an agreement in 1907
by which they established their respective spheres of influence, so
that Persia was occupied at the two ends, north and south, by strong
powers, and the middle portion was in such a chaotic state that its
future seemed very doubtful. By making loans to the shah and furnishing
capital for public improvements British and Russian capitalists enabled
their respective countries to tighten their grips on Persia. Soon that
country was in the throes of revolution, a so-called Nationalist party
came into power which was not able to rule without the aid of Russia
and Great Britain. So far did the foreign influence go that Morgan W.
Shuster, an American financial adviser of the shah who had tried hard
to place the government on a satisfactory basis, was fain to withdraw
from Persia in despair. To the rest of the world it seemed that the
independence of the country was near its end.

A mere glance will show us what these developments meant for Germany
and Austria-Hungary. Remembering that Italy was acting with the
_Entente_ in her African policy, we see that the entire southern shore
of the Mediterranean was passing into hands adverse to the central
powers, and that the new combination stretched out a long arm to the
Persian Gulf and the region south of the Caspian. In view of Germany’s
hope that she would some day gain through Syria a railway route to the
Far East, the trend of things in Persia threatened to close the narrow
gap that was left her for such a route by completing the absorption
of the kingdom of the shah. Should she allow the gap to be stopped,
or should she strike while there was still time? And if she did not
strike, what was there in the system of the Balance of Power that could
be counted on as a guarantee that she was not a passive victim to the
play of politics in the system then in use?

Furthermore, it was evident that Germany’s prestige was being
undermined by the progressive steps of her rivals. Three times had
she rattled the saber over the Moroccan incidents, and each time with
decreasing terror in the minds of her opponents. Perhaps its rattling
had been one of the main facts in promoting the union of those
opponents, since it always brought before them the picture of Germany
embattled against the rest of Europe. To strike a blow that would teach
France and Russia a lesson would restore German prestige and bring the
balance back to the German side of the rivalry, if it did not do more.

There is good ground for the guess that it was expected in high
quarters in Berlin that the blow would do far more than restore
prestige. It is true that the plan to which I am about to refer has not
been openly accepted by responsible agents of state, but it was widely
advocated by a portion of the people, the Pan-Germans. It involved the
union of Austria-Hungary and Germany in a great state, Mittel-Europa,
with strong influence in the Near East. Treitschke and many others had
written and spoken for such a thing, and to a large number of Germans
it had become a sacred ideal. When some one spoke to the deaf Colussus
about the acquisition of territory in Africa he exclaimed: “Cameroons?
What are we to do with this sand-box? Let us take Holland; then we
shall have colonies.” It was a part of the dream of the Pan-Germans
that the proposed Mittel-Europa should extend from the Baltic to the
Black Sea. If such a thing could be carried through, how excellent a
trump card to play against the _Entente_ plotters!

Francis Joseph, of Austria-Hungary, was too stout a patriot to hand his
country over to the schemes of the Pan-Germans, but he was approaching
an already long deferred demise. The heir-apparent, Ferdinand, was
supposed to be a great admirer of the kaiser, and the advocates of
union had high hopes that he would promote their desires. Suddenly
came the crime of Sarajevo. In a peculiar manner it dashed the hopes
of the dreamers; for not only was their chief reliance taken away,
but the new heir-apparent was supposed to be a pacific man who would
favor constitutional government. Such a ruler would hardly support
the formation of a great empire built after the fashion of Prussian
autocracy. It was the inspiration of the moment to have the war come,
and demonstrate the glory of Germany and Austria-Hungary, while the
old emperor still lived. And if it was precipitated in the interest of
Austria-Hungary, that was all the greater reason that the people of
the dual empire should feel under obligation to the military power that
carried it through. Possibly they would be so much impressed that they
would sweep a youthful emperor on with them in the realization of a
great united empire.

It is not certain how far the Pan-German party controlled the policy of
government in July, 1914; but it does not seem too much to attribute
such plans to men who did not hesitate to dream of the annexation
of Holland and who had definitely planned for the acquisition of
Constantinople. The imagination of a German patriot is no mean thing
in ordinary situations; but a great sweep would be vouchsafed to it
when its possessor realized that his country was being outplayed by
the diplomats and the grim Captain of Death. It was an extraordinary
situation that the Germans confronted in July, 1914, and there was not
much time for deliberation.

This chapter is not written to show that Germany was, or was not,
responsible for the war. If it explains how it was that the German
people believed that the war was forced on them, it will accomplish
more than it was designed to accomplish. But it is intended to enable
persons to keep calm heads in these times of perplexity in order to
understand how each side approached the great conflict. It is evident
that the _Entente_ powers thought that Germany wished to change Europe
into a great empire with herself at the head, while the central powers
felt that the chains were being riveted around about them.

In view of this long train of events the last week in that fateful July
assumes small proportions. If Ferdinand had not been killed war would
still have hung over the horizon. If Serbia had accepted the Austrian
ultimatum war would still have threatened; for though it may have been
averted for the moment, the Triple _Entente_ would still have existed,
nor would it have brooked the increase of German prestige that the
backdown of Serbia would have implied. If Russia had not mobilized her
army, Germany may not have mobilized, but the ancient fear of Russia as
an overwhelming opponent when she was once organized in the modern way
would have remained as a threat of dire consequences.

The theory of the Balance of Power is built upon the idea that states
act for their own interests in the restraint of one another from
overweening ambition. At bottom it is selfish. It assumes a state
of rivalry; and it is necessary to the theory that as fast as one
side gains in strength the other shall gain also. If the _Entente_
nations acquire Morocco, Tripoli, Cyrenaica, and parts of Persia, the
central powers must gain also or they are over-balanced. And who is to
determine how much they shall gain? Manifestly each will strive to get
all it can. The very process of gaining stimulates antipathy and makes
war a probability.

Another observation that is worthy of consideration is that balance is
logically possible only when more than two sides are opposed to one
another. When Great Britain, France and Russia had varying purposes
it was not difficult for Bismarck to play one against the other and
so keep the equilibrium. But when it happened that the central powers
became so strong that they constituted a threat against every other
nation in the world, it was natural for the other nations to unite to
check them. In such a condition no true balance of power could exist,
and it was folly to expect that theory to serve as it served in former
days.

One of the things the world ought to learn from the war that now
afflicts it is that no nation can conquer the world by stealth. It is
one of the happy shortcomings of political selfishness that its agents
usually fancy they can cover their tracks. How often do we see a bad
politician doing something wrong in the false confidence that while he
knows what he is doing the people cannot see it! So with Germany in the
years before the war. Making her plans for large accretions of power,
she thought she could steal a march on other nations and gain in a
spurt a position from which at a later time she could extend her power
by other and still larger sweeps of conquest. She did not think that
the other nations would take part until it was too late.

But the rest of the world was as wide awake as she. No man in England
accustomed to view political things in the large failed to see the
instant the war began that the hour of crisis for his country was at
hand. If Great Britain had not fought in August, 1914, she would have
been the stupidest nation in the world. To have allowed her greatest
rival to sit down in the French channel ports would have been suicidal
for her. The only probable explanation of Germany’s failure to realize
this is that she had become so confident of the superiority of her own
mind that she thought all other minds were sodden.

In a similar way, when she had carried on the war for two years and
a half and resorted to the submarine in ruthless attacks on American
ships of commerce, she should have known that she was giving the United
States a reason for participating in the war at a time when it was
clear to most Americans that their national safety demanded that they
should take part. If by this kind of battle the Germans forced Europe
to bend to her, what could we expect in the future? The very imminence
of German success demanded that the United States should throw herself
into the struggle. And after the war is over this truth will be written
indelibly in the pages of history: No great nation can be allowed to
conquer the world piecemeal.




CHAPTER IX

IF THE SUBMARINES FAIL


The German people say the submarines will not fail. They seem to think
that what they call the highest achievement of the scientific mind of
Germany cannot fail. There is little doubt that they pin on this arm of
the service their last hope of securing a decision in actual warfare.
If it fails them they can look forward only to a long course of sheer
dogged resistance, hoping they can last longer than their adversaries.
Let us consider the probable results respectively of the success and
the failure of the submarine campaign.

If the under-sea boats do all the Germans expect of them the result is
soon told. Great Britain will be forced to make lame and inefficient
war, France will be unable to do more than hold on to the line that
she occupies, and the United States, unable to send her vast army
across the seas in large numbers, will not be able to repair the loss
of strength that her allies sustain. Under such circumstances Russia,
even if she should recover from her present state of weakness, could
hardly deliver the blows that would bring Germany to reason.

Under such conditions the war would end without the defeat of the
Teutons, and Mittel-Europa would still be impending. If the enthusiasm
of victory would stimulate such a union, the realization that Germany
and Austria-Hungary were pressed back to the wall and must fight
for their future existence might equally bring them to unite their
fortunes. In fact, if these two states wish to unite it is hard to see
how they are to be prevented, unless at the end of the war they are so
much weaker than their opponents that they can be forbidden to take
such a step, with assurance that the prohibition will be respected.

To form such a union would be, in fact, to snatch victory out of
sore distress; for the united empires, even though Serbia, Bulgaria,
and Turkey were left out of account, would have a population of
116,000,000, which is more than the population of the United States and
smaller only than that of Russia and China. Ten years’ breathing space
in which to reorganize the industrial and social life of so large a
body of men would work wonders with them; and when reorganized and
fired by a common ambition they would be able to dictate terms to any
two of the nations of Western Europe. It is the probable union of these
states rather than the power of either when acting alone, that makes it
necessary for the rest of the world to procure their defeat.

In two ways the union can be prevented. One is to inflict such a defeat
on the central allies that they will not dare run the risk of another
war through endeavoring to combine. Possibly such a defeat could be
inflicted by fighting long and winning great victories. It would have
to be a greater victory than was won by Prussia over France in 1871;
for after that victory France, fired with hatred for all that was
German, was so much feared by her conquerors that it became a chief
object of their diplomacy to keep her isolated by drawing possible
allies over to the German interest. The great military strength of
Germany at present hardly warrants the hope that she can be brought to
a lower state than France at the end of the siege of Paris.

The other method is to bring about such a situation that union shall
not be desired in the Teutonic states. For it is not to be disputed
that if ever a strong and competent group of states wish to become
an empire, nothing short of a great war by other states can stop
them. It behooves us, therefore, to make our appeal to the reasons of
the Germans, Austrians and Hungarians. It is not necessary to limit
our arguments to words merely; it is, however, essential that the
Teutonic mind shall understand what to threaten the equilibrium of
nations means. To show that such a preponderance cannot be established
practically would be an effective warning to those leaders who set up
to preach Germanic militarism in the future.

As this chapter is being printed, it seems that the submarines are not
a success. They have taken a great toll but not all the grist. Enough
ships are left on the sea to carry the minimum of food and war material
that our allies must have to maintain their grip on Germany. The war of
the central powers does not force their enemies to their knees, and it
seems that the best the kaiser can hope for is to hold out for a time
with the expectation that victory will be snatched by accident out of
the gloom that hangs over his cause.

When the war began it was essentially a contest between two groups of
powers, each of which had been pursuing policies of aggrandizement.
One group had progressively acquired territory in Africa and Asia,
and the other had a plan equally definite for acquiring territory in
Southeastern Europe and the Near East. If the war had been fought out
as begun it would probably have led to the realization of one or the
other of these desires. Either the _Entente_ powers would have fixed
their hold on their respective spheres of influence and broken the
schemes of Germany and Austria-Hungary, or Germany would have made a
great sweep forward and established herself in the keystone position of
Europe, with immense consequences for the future.

As the war progressed it became evident that it was becoming a supreme
test of the ability of one combination of nations to create a new
empire that would dominate Europe. It is no stretch of imagination
to say that the Germans dreamed of reëstablishing a modern Roman
Empire of the Germans. If the scheme had materialized--and the future
historian will probably conclude that it was near success at one
time--the fate of the rest of the world would have been far different
from what we wish it to be. A gigantic struggle would have been thrust
upon the United States to save the Western World from conquest. It was
the conviction that such a crisis actually menaced us that brought us
to join in the attempt to block the German plans.

Assuming, therefore, that the anti-German allies are victorious, it is
unthinkable that the war shall be allowed to end as a mere check on
the plans of the central powers. To do so would be to grant that the
_Entente_ powers should be left to carry on their plans for national
aggrandizement with _carte blanche_ approval by the United States. It
would mean that we are fighting at a great sacrifice in order to enable
Great Britain to maintain her position as mistress of the sea and ruler
of a far distant empire. Now we do not object to British rule in the
distant parts of the earth: we have found it a tolerable thing that she
should be entrusted with the task of developing the backward races over
whom she has established her authority. But we have never meant to
save her toppling empire for her own comfort, as an act of grace merely.

If we are to contribute a material part to the suppression of
aggression in the world, we have a right to say in what way and
to what end our sacrifice will have been made. As the greatest of
the anti-German allies we shall have the largest burden to bear in
proportion to the time in which we are to fight. That we should
guarantee to Great Britain and our other allies the full existence
of their rights is but fair. It is equally reasonable that we shall
demand that the future does not inure to the special advantage of any
one of the group; but in fixing upon the terms under which it shall be
arranged the main end in view should be the good of all the nations in
the world.

This is a view which is likely to have the support of all the
anti-German allies, with the possible exception of Britain. France and
Russia, to say nothing of the smaller states, have the same interest as
we in making the common welfare the chief aim in peace negotiations.
If we were not in the group and if victory came to it, these nations
would perforce have to yield the lead to Great Britain, since she
would outclass them in strength by reason of her sea power. She might
well say that as the nation on which would fall the largest burden in
keeping Germany in a state of restraint, she should have the largest
influence in deciding what was to be done. She cannot make such a claim
under existing conditions.

Of course, there is the difficulty that the United States may not
be guided by statesmen who realize the importance of following a
thoroughly American policy. It has long been a practice with a great
many Americans to follow the lead of Great Britain. Unaccustomed to
take a normal share of responsibility in world problems, we may now be
inclined to hold back, leaving the game to hands that have acquired
greater skill in playing it. Such a course would be a misfortune. It
would mean that statesmen would be given charge of the situation who
derived all their ideas under the old system of Balance of Power, and
it would be strange if they did not try to carry on the world in the
future with a strong squint at the only principles of international
policy they know anything about. To break into this well crystallized
realm of so-called practical ideas, demands an unusually strong man,
a man well founded in principles and able to convince others of the
wisdom of his views.

It is true that the President of the United States now in office has
many of the traits that seem necessary to a correct conduct of the
situation. A man who had the training of a mere politician might well
be less than able to deal with the situation that faces us. President
Wilson’s knowledge of history enables him to think in terms of large
national movements. That is the chief value of historical training to
a statesman. If he knows the history of the attempts to settle the
affairs of the nations after the great world struggles of the past, he
is better able to understand how the various suggested plans will work
in the crisis that is to be passed through.

President Wilson has, also, the unusual faculty of doing what he wishes
to do. When he has formed a purpose it is not generally a compromise
with a number of men whose chief concern is how the result of action
will affect their party support. At least this is true in matters not
clearly within the bounds of party activity. Moreover, he has spoken
and written words which seem to show that he understands the need of
providing for such a course of conduct between the nations as will
assure us of coöperation for the elimination of future wars. In his
long delay in urging war and in his early pronouncement for a league of
peace, he gave us the assurance, if nothing else, that he understands
the situation and is capable of holding a firm course in accordance
with his principles.

If the submarines fail, therefore, and if we come to a settlement of
the largely new world problems that will confront us, and if our policy
is in the hands of wise men, what principles will guide our actions
and the actions of the rest of the world? This is a question that all
intelligent citizens should consider, since it cannot be answered
well unless there is a restrained and broad-minded public opinion to
support the leaders of the people. It is a matter for the consideration
of Germans as well as their opponents; for their attitude toward any
policy adopted will have a strong effect upon the continuation of the
policy.

The first question we should ask ourselves is: What are we to do to
the Germans? How shall we punish them for what they have done to make
the world miserable? My answer to that is: Let God punish them. For
us it is not a question of giving the Germans their deserts but a
question of coming out of this cataclysm with a clear gain for the
cause of human happiness. Let us look upon the Germans as suffering
from a kind of disease of the mind which produces bad results on those
with whom they are in contact. It is ours to prescribe a cure, both
for their sake and for ours. I suggest that we first put them on a
liquid diet to reduce their exuberant vitality and then give them the
rest cure. At any rate, that is better than cropping their ears or
putting them into strait-jackets. To treat an impassioned man you do
not kick and beat him but try to bring him to his senses. To bring the
Germans into a realization that this world is run on the principle of
live-and-let-live, we ourselves must show a willingness to let live.

We had a large amount of the opposite spirit in the United States from
1865 to 1875. The South, passionately convinced that slavery was no
evil, had made as good a fight to preserve her cause as Germany has
made or can make. She held out to the last with what her own people
called a stout heart, but her foes said with a stiff neck. For a year
and a half after the outside world concluded that she could never win,
she held on in the hope that her adversaries would tire of war and make
peace without victory. Now all this was exasperating, and the mass
of the Northern people felt in 1865 that some punishment should be
inflicted on the perverse people who had inflicted so much unnecessary
misery on the country. But Lincoln did not feel that way. There is no
reason to think that he gave a moment’s thought to making the South
suffer for her course. For him all thought was how to smooth the
wrinkles out of the present, and how to make the Southern people cast
out their hatred of the union and come back to their former loyalty.
The Lincoln spirit should guide the world at the end of the present
struggle.

War lives on hatred. To make your people put all their energy into
the fight make them hate the other people; and you may rest in the
assurance that the leaders of the others are striving to make their
followers hate the men on your side. The mill of hate grinds steadily
and at a high speed while war lasts. In Germany in these days is a vast
amount of industrious abusing of England. That makes the German people
support the war. In Great Britain is a great activity in describing
atrocities in Belgium and Armenia, and it exists in order to make the
British people mad for war. When you see a new crop of the testimony
concerning the torturing horrors of the first month of war in Belgium,
you may know that the war spirit is running low in Britain. Unhappily,
such propaganda is a necessary feature of war. We are naturally
good-hearted, and we do not go out to kill men until we are made to
hate them.

The moment war ends all this kind of thing should cease. The time will
then have come for the propaganda of peace. Unfortunately there are few
men whose mission it is to spread such ideas. Merchants and tourists
may do what is their nature to do, but they are not sufficient; and it
generally takes years for the fires to cool off.

The aftermath of our civil war was as unhappy a series of events as we
have encountered within our national history. Undertaken as a means
of making sure of the gains of the civil war, it became a procession
of passion in which stalked all the worst feelings that divided the
people in actual warfare. There are still men in the North who have
Andersonville in mind when they vote, and men in the South who can
never respect the republican party because it was responsible for the
reconstruction acts of 1867. It will be extremely unfortunate if we
take up the problems that are soon to be upon us in the spirit with
which we assumed the duties of reconstructing the South.

During the civil war the South was possessed of a fixed idea: the same
thing is true of Germany today. The South was committed to a position
that the rest of the world had abandoned: Germany is committed to a
type of bureaucratic government which is as much out of date in a
modern world as slavery. No ordinary system of reasoning could show
fair and honest Southern men in what respect they had the sentiment
of civilization against them: the German is thoroughly convinced that
he is fighting for the preservation of the most efficient type of
government the world has seen. The South went to her defeat after
a long and astonishingly effective resistance: Germany seems to be
destined to a similarly long and steady process of reduction into
complete prostration. The South was ruled by a small but able class of
landed proprietors who refused to see the plain truth of the situation
before them and prolonged the struggle until they were exhausted,
although by making a favorable adjustment in accordance with the logic
of the conditions before them they might have ended the war in 1864
and saved their people from the uttermost bitterness of defeat: the
Germans, ruled by their Junkers, are equally deaf to argument, equally
determined to die at their posts, and equally opposed to a compromise
by which they will have to give up their antiquated “institution,”
relinquish their special privileges, and make their country like
the rest of the world. There are so many parallels between the two
countries that we wonder if there will not also be a disposition of the
victorious opposing allies to degrade Germany in her defeat.

Probably her best adjusted punishment will be the reflection that her
“peculiar institution” proved a failure in time of need. For a century
she has been training an army, but it is not the army that has failed
her. It has done all that could have been expected of it. Nor did the
Southern army fail the South. It is not the sense of loyalty, nor the
scientific efficiency, nor the unity of purpose within the empire,
that have failed her. They are all splendid and have done what could
be demanded of them. The thing that has failed is the peculiar way in
which the German ruling classes have made use of these forces. They
have used army, scientific efficiency, loyalty, and unity of purpose to
promote the ends of an aggressive ruling class. Now the best treatment
is to defeat them in the war and allow them plenty of time, with no
unnecessary antagonisms, to learn that their system does not pay, and
that any attempt to revive it in the future will be followed by another
punishment as severe as that which this war brought. The support of
a military caste and the training of all the men in a great army are
heavy burdens on the economic life of the state. Will any nation
continue to bear them if they come to nothing in the day of trial?
Armies for defense do not demand the great expenditures that Germany
has made in the last decades.

No penalty that the victors could lay on Germany would be permanently
effective in reducing her. So great are her economic energies that they
would restore her to prosperity within a short time, and she would
be ready to take advantage of any favorable combination to strike in
revenge. Disarmament would not be a guaranty that she would cease to be
troublesome to her neighbors; for she would still have her excellently
trained soldiers who could be reassembled in a great army at short
notice. She might well be required to dismantle her great armament
factories; and since they are essential to the re-arming of a great
army some check on her restoration would come from such dismantling.
But it would be a temporary check. It is only necessary to remember
that the beginning of the present German army was the attempt of one
conqueror, Napoleon, to limit the Prussian army to 42,000 men.

Moreover, what nations could be expected to agree among themselves
while standing guard over Germany? Under the Balance of Power, we
might expect a fair amount of mobility of alliances. We have just
seen that not even the Triple Alliance was proof against the skillful
hands of Delcassé. If Italy could be withdrawn by France from that
powerful combination, how can we doubt that a humiliated Germany
would find means of weakening the combination against her? She would
have the greatest inducement to do so; and it is not probable that
complete harmony would prevail long between the victors, if they were
held together only by the bonds of mutual friendship. The history of
diplomacy is the record of broken friendships.

To see what readjustment might occur with respect to a humiliated
Germany, it is only necessary to recall the position of France after
the Napoleonic wars. Beaten beyond resistance, suspected of carrying
the germs of bad government from which all other nations felt that they
must be protected as from deadly disease, and held down by great armies
of occupation, her situation would seem to have been most deplorable.
But her isolation lasted for only a moment. She was admitted to
the Congress of Vienna,--called to pass on the future arrangements
of Europe,--because there was division among her conquerors. From
that time she was suspected less and less, and at the Conference of
Aix-la-Chapelle, 1818, she was admitted to the Concert of Europe,
but not with full fellowship; for the other powers made a secret
agreement to watch her for a while longer. She progressed so rapidly
in eliminating the republican virus in her system that in 1823 she was
entrusted with the task of suppressing the constitution of Spain. Thus
in eight years after the battle of Waterloo France was again in full
accord with the other powers. Probably few people would have said in
1815 that her restoration would come about so rapidly. It would be no
more singular if within ten years after the end of the present struggle
a conquered Germany were to forget her antipathies of 1918 and be ready
to give and be given in diplomatic alliances with as little regard for
the past.

If, for example, a restored and highly nationalized Russia becomes a
threat against Western Europe some years hence, the antagonisms of
today would be forgotten and Germany, France, and Great Britain would
probably be found fighting side by side to restrain the Muscovite
giant. The old system is intensely selfish and it lends itself to
rapid changes in policies. But it is an expensive thing to keep up the
system. Large armies are necessary, great debts are created, and a
vast amount of nervous strength is diverted from the normal activities
of humanity. It is small hope for him who longs to see war put down
permanently that only by fighting a war like that now raging may we
expect the nations to defeat any future aspirant for universal power.

Finally, if the submarines fail and the anti-German allies break down
the defenses of their enemies and thus are able to determine the kind
of peace that is to be made, the treaty of peace should not have for
its end the prolongation of the power of the _Entente_ group. The
history of the first half of the nineteenth century shows how easy it
is for such a group to be re-arranged with the result that new wars
threaten. We must trust the fair mindedness of human nature and the
logic of the situation to do much for the Germans. It is on their
acceptance of the issue that we must rest our hopes for a peaceful
future.

These truths are especially pertinent to the interests of the United
States. We are not fighting Europe’s war, but the world’s. We are the
only nation in the struggle that has not a special interest at stake.
We are the only member of our group of allies that has a right to take
the side of the weakest member of that group against the desire of
the strongest. If any one member should in a moment of more or less
pardonable forgetfulness of the common good advance claims that would
be based on a desire to recoup herself for her sufferings, we best
of all could demand equal treatment and see that the seed of future
discord are not sown. These are principles that every American citizen
should understand.




CHAPTER X

OBSTACLES TO AN ENDURING PEACE


By an enduring peace I mean a peace that shall last as long as we can
see into the future. It is such a peace as has in it, so far as we can
see, no fact that would seem to make for its ruin. If we adopt a peace
that has the seed of destruction in its very nature, we cannot hope for
relief from the evils of war. We must, under such a condition, take
account of war as one of the permanent burdens of civilization, with
the full consciousness that it will become increasingly expensive in
life and property, and with the result that at recurring periods an
intelligent world will drop its peaceful tasks to try to reduce its
population to a nullity. From the possibility of such a strife we turn
to ask the question: “Can nothing be done to save humanity from such
madness?”

The answer is very simple: All people are unreasonable to some extent.
In connection with the question now under consideration, each of the
great states of the world, our own included, has its own special
form of unreasonableness, which acts as an obstacle to the formation
of a régime of peace. If the immense disaster by which we are
depressed could serve as a means of bringing us to a state of entire
reasonableness, the present war would be worth all it costs. Whether or
not it can lead to such a result the reader must determine for himself.

An important obstacle to such a result is the economic competition of
nations. Economic competition by individuals has ugly sides, but it is
not dangerous in the sense in which national competition is dangerous.
When two merchants undersell until one breaks down the business of the
other, the victim passes out of sight in the business world, and the
current of trade soon goes on as before. When two corporations, however
great, engage in a business “war” and one is crushed or absorbed by
its competitor, the ripple that was made is soon obliterated, and the
victor serves the human wants with which it has to do without serious
damage to humanity.

But when one nation finds itself in strong competition with another
in the hope of controlling a sphere of trade, it is apt to seek
territorial annexation to gain the desired field of exploitation. The
competitor can only follow the same course. It is the only thing it can
do, if it is not willing to give up the contest. If it is strong enough
to dispute the will of the rival, its very sense of individuality
demands that it shall not tamely yield before the aggression of a
rival. When France acquired Morocco, Italy acquired Tripoli, and Great
Britain acquired the southern part of Persia, economic advantage was
a strong motive, but not the only motive. When Germany laid out the
field of her future expansion in Turkish lands and when she expected to
establish a permanent influence over the Balkans, the extension of her
sphere of commerce was a chief motive.

Probably the fundamental wrong here was the idea, widely held by the
present generation, that a nation has a right to establish bars around
her national territory to keep the trade of other nations out, so that
her own citizens shall have preferential advantages in the exploitation
of the territory. That idea is so firmly held today that one must be
a rash man who attempts to get the nations to give it up. But it is
a fundamental obstacle to permanent peace in the world. Probably it
is not too much to say that as long as the business men of the world
insist on dividing themselves into national groups with these national
preferences, so long may they expect business at recurring intervals to
be burdened with the waste and ruin of war.

Against the existing practice we may place the “open door” policy,
which we have known chiefly in connection with the trade of the
undeveloped nations. It means the free opening of the trade of a given
state to all the nations that may care to have it. We heard much of
the “open door” in China a few years ago, and most of the benevolent
governments approved of the suggestion. To have been perfectly logical
they should have applied the same idea to their own commerce; and if
the world ever comes to a perfect state of international comity, it is
likely that national tariff barriers will be broken down.

It is true, however, that we can have enduring peace and have national
protective tariffs, also. If nations agree that tariffs are one of the
unhappy excrescences of an unreasonable world, they may find it in
their hearts to tolerate such growths. To tolerate them would be, no
doubt, better than going to war. But when a state sets its eyes on a
certain part of the earth which it feels it must acquire in order to
enlarge the territory in which it can trade without fair competition,
the peace of the world is imperiled.

It is probable that this kind of motive played a large part in
Germany’s decision to begin the present war. For a long time her
industries had been developing at a rapid rate. Protected at home by
tariffs they were able to sell goods to the German people at high
prices, while they sold at cheap prices in foreign markets in order
to drive their competitors away. The volume of German trade increased
immensely, factories were multiplied, and large credits were extended
by the banks in order to support this great structure. At last the
situation became unsteady. The expansion of the foreign part of the
national trade at small profits was a clog on the home trade, which
could not be made to yield enough profit to keep the business of the
country in a healthy condition. Then the manufacturers and capitalists
came to the conclusion that it was to their interest for the country
to go into a war of conquest in which new national territory should
be laid at their feet for profitable exploitation. Thus, the large
business interests, usually supporters of peace, swung to the support
of the militarists. It is significant that the liberals, that party in
the Reichstag which speaks especially for the traders, capitalists,
and manufacturers, have been among the most outspoken advocates of
annexation.

In a powerful, if indirect, way the laborers are reached by this
argument. They see that if the manufacturers and transportation
companies expand their business wages are better and employment more
abundant, and this leads them to favor a policy of expansion. To what
extent the remote organs of the business world are thus reached it is
difficult to say. But it is evident that in a phase of human activity
which has been organized most intricately the influence of the initial
idea that a war of annexation helps business is far reaching.

We frequently encounter the assertion that economic laws are
unchangeable; but the statement is not true, as it is made. Many
economic processes that appeared fundamental in their time have changed
as the minds of men have taken new grips on human life. The world
has outgrown the mercantile school of economic ideas. The attitude
toward private property and monopolies, and the view of the right of
individual bargaining have been greatly modified in the process of
time. If a so-called economic law stands in the way of a reasonable
adjustment of human relations, it can be altered, if enough time and
effort be given to the attempt to change it. Although it may seem to be
fundamentally fixed in the minds of business men and laborers that a
war for annexation is in their interests, if reason shows that they are
mistaken, there should be a way of bringing reason to their minds, even
as it has come to ours.

Another obstacle to enduring peace is a false sense of patriotism. If
a man extols his own virtues we say he is a boaster: if he extols the
good qualities of his town, state, or nation, we say he is a patriot.
I am inclined to say that it is not permitted to a man to praise his
country--I do not say love his country--in any sense but that in which
he may praise himself, modestly and with reservations. At any rate, he
should praise and magnify his country in the most restrained spirit
possible. Patriotism does not demand national egotism in the good
citizen. Those writers and teachers who try to create a national spirit
should be careful lest they make men mere chauvinists.

Especially perilous is the doctrine that “self-preservation is the
first law of nature” as applied to nations. Times come when a man
is not justified in preserving his life. So to nations come crises
in which they are not permitted by the rules of morality to save
themselves by what appear to be the only means left. In the present war
Germany asserted that she was justified by this principle in adopting
the ruthless war of the submarine, since it was the only thing that
would save her from destruction. It is better for a state to go to
destruction, just as it is better for a man to go to his death, with
clean hands than to live foully.

It is but an extension of this doctrine for men of normal morality to
say they may do things for the benefit of the state which they may not
do for their own benefit. A statesman has no more right to make his
state steal another state’s lands than he has to take his neighbor’s
watch. It is not a virtue if he lies for his state. The state cannot
speak of itself: it speaks through its agents. It is sullied, even as
a man is sullied in his character, when its only voice, the words and
acts of its servants, is not true. Judged by the standards here set
up, the world’s diplomacy needs amendment, and if amended one of the
obstacles to peace will be removed.

A false sense of patriotism may lead to acts that imperil peace.
When France acquired Morocco her object was not wholly to extend
her economic interests. To increase the national strength was also
a motive. Likewise, Germany’s desire to establish control over the
territory southeast of her was not entirely economic in its origin. She
also wished to increase the glory and strength of the Fatherland. How
much we are to condemn this desire of a citizen for the glory of his
country it is hard to say; but it seems to be clear that such a desire
may manifest itself in such a way as to become a serious obstacle to
peace.

At the end of the present war the victorious nations will be in a
position to abate national glory in the interest of enduring peace.
Our own citizens are supposed to be particularly proud of the
achievements of the United States. If our efforts should contribute as
much as we wish to the triumph of our own side, we should be careful
lest we forget that we entered the war with the modest purpose of
making the world a fit place of habitation for _all_ people. Likewise
we should be justified in using our influence among our allies to see
that the desire of no statesman to enhance the glory of his nation
leads to action which may imperil peace in the future. When we shall
have fought long and suffered greatly our hearts are likely to become
harder than now, in the beginning of the war; and there is danger that
we shall forget early resolutions if we are not firmly committed to
them at the outset.

Another obstacle to enduring peace is the sense of nationality. The
older men of this generation who were students in Germany in their
youth acquired much respect for the passionate desire of Germans to
build up unity among all German speaking people. It was a sacred
idea to young men and imaginative writers. Long had North Germany
been disunited, stumbling forward under the lead of the Hapsburgs.
To be able to form a dominating group among all the Germans in the
world seemed no more than was their just due. We did not realize in
those days to what an end these people who lost so many opportunities
through internal weakness would put their strength when they had at
last developed it. And yet, it was the right of the Germans to unite
themselves into as strong a nation as they might form. The wrong came
in the improper extension of the idea. When men like Treitschke talk
about including Holland in the German Fatherland we may well ask where
nationality’s pretensions are taking us?

It was natural, also, that the sense of nationality should be
manifested in many other European countries. Each of the Balkan states
had its own phase of it. Russia had a large hope of uniting in her
control all the peoples of Slavic blood. Italy demanded Trieste as a
part of the Italian-speaking world. Greece lived for the acquisition
of Macedonia and the Greek Islands, and France never diminished her
pathetic longing for Alsace-Lorraine, where lived French-speaking
peoples.

Often the desire for nationality runs directly counter to economic
laws. For example, what are we to do when we have Austria holding on
to her only great Adriatic seaport as the essential outlet of her
trade to the sea, and nationality proclaiming that this port shall be
handed over to Italy? Moreover, different peoples are so intermixed in
some parts of Europe that it is impossible for any but a scientific
specialist to say which states, or sections of states, are occupied by
a majority of one race and which by a majority of another. If we are to
set out to divide Europe according to nationality we shall have a large
task on our hands. In the United States the principle of nationality
is not to be pleaded, since we are so intimately intermixed that it
would be hopeless to try to range us into racial groups. Moreover, we
get along very well as it is, having once agreed that we shall have to
get along together. Perhaps if the nationalizing propaganda ceased in
Europe race antagonism would subside.

Autocratic classes in society constitute still another obstacle to
peace. We have heard much on this subject of late, and some of the
things that have been said have been so ill-established in truth that
they must make the real autocrats smile. It will probably help us to
understand the situation if we undertake to enumerate the good things
an autocracy can do. For truth never profits by falsehood, and the most
autocratic people in the world have sense enough to know when they are
misrepresented.

Let us remember that under favorable conditions an autocracy is
composed of the more capable people in the community in which it
exists. They are more capable because they have been brought up most
carefully, that is, because they have the best trained minds. There is
no law of nature by which more fools are born in an aristocracy than
in a proletariat. In fact, the tendency is the other way; for since
the aristocrats are in a position to cultivate themselves in a given
generation, it is natural that a comparatively large portion of their
children shall be well endowed mentally. To this gift of nature add the
influence of better educational training, and you see how natural it
is to expect an autocracy to be stronger mentally than those who would
have to replace it if it were overthrown.

Again, an autocracy is not necessarily unpatriotic. Of course, it has
its own idea of what patriotism is, but so have the classes below the
autocracy. Its patriotism usually embraces an honestly held opinion
that the autocratic state is the best form of society. On this basis it
is willing to sacrifice much for the state. We see it putting “lives,
fortunes, and sacred honor” literally at the entire command of the
state. No man can do more than give his all for that which he holds
right.

An autocracy may be composed of men of the best private manners and
principles. They frequently include the best poets, historians,
novelists, philosophers, and teachers of the nation. It is they who
encourage art, and set standards of taste in architecture, landscape
gardening, and general culture. Compared with the leisure class of
a prosperous industrial country they may be more courteous, more
unassuming, and less given to offensive use of their wealth. They are
the kind of men whom any of us could love if we knew them personally.
These words do not, of course, apply to all members of the class, but
to the group as a whole in ordinary conditions.

Of the German autocracy most of these things can be said, and more.
It is a hard working group and generally speaking it is honest. In
the service of the state it has a record of efficient government that
few democratic countries can show. The officials of German towns and
cities, provinces and states, taken from the hereditary upper classes,
are well trained, faithful, and free from the suggestion of corruption.
It will take New York or Chicago many years to develop the state of
good government that exists in Berlin. Moreover, the German autocracy
has the respect of the German people.

Up to last winter the Russian autocracy was an obstacle to peace.
Many who looked forward to a reign of reason wondered how they were
going to make the theory work while the largest _Entente_ nation was
in the hands of an autocracy that was less tolerable than the German
autocracy. Fortunately, fate has settled the question, for the time
at least. So uncertain is the condition of affairs in Russia, that no
one can say what will be the outcome. It is by no means certain that
the peasants, workers, and soldiers, will not make actual war against
the former autocrats, leading to a state of chaos like the worst
phases of the French Revolution. If such a thing happens, a reaction
in favor of the former ruling class may well follow. If the war ends
before the newly established government is firmly seated in power some
such upheaval may be expected. Certainly the time of danger is not yet
passed.

The German autocracy is better than that which ruled Russia. In fact,
it would be less dangerous if it were less serviceable. Its sins are
not the patent sins of peculation, cruelty, laziness, or despotism. It
offends in that it takes away the confidence of nation in nation. It
offends because it is filled with unfortunate purposes. It is possible
to think of an autocracy that would be no menace for the peace of the
world, an autocracy filled with no ambition for world conquest. It is
true that most autocratic governments have not been of this kind, and
they seem militarists by nature, whence arise the ideals with which
they trouble the world.

When Hegel preached the philosophy of war that underlies the German’s
devotion to war, he was largely right from the Prussian standpoint.
He held that the mind becomes sluggish through inactivity and that
war burns up its waste matter and leads to energy of character. This
doctrine would not be essentially true in any normally organized
society; for there are as many opportunities for self-expression in
commerce, finance, manufactures, art, and other peaceful occupations
as in war. But a century ago Prussia was filled, even more than today,
with a mass of small nobles, unaccustomed to any ordinary form of
labor, and with slender incomes. They were just the class that would
fall into the effete vices of an aristocracy. To them the military life
was an avenue of steady and moral employment. They took places in the
great machine, and by 1870 they had been bred into its very spirit. The
process saved the German nobles from vapidity. At the same time, as a
class, they preserved their political privileges, and it has happened
that they, with their official heads, the kaiser, kings, and princes,
have been able to unite political power and military purposes until
they have made of their country the most military state of modern
times. If Germany has fought the present war with great ability, it is
the organized autocracy that deserves the credit.

It is, therefore, the union of the political and military power in
the hands of a privileged class in Germany that now constitutes the
greatest obstacle to peace. It enables a small and efficient portion
of the German population to wield the rest of the people for the ends
they have decided are best. If this union of functions could be broken
up, and if political power could be distributed as in the countries
governed by the people, the obstacle would be reduced in size. It is
not necessary to suppose that it would be removed altogether; for even
if equal suffrage were established in Germany, and if autocracy were
shorn of its preponderating electoral power, the nobles would still be
the most capable class in the empire. Their personality would go a long
way in perpetuating their influence. If they played the game of trying
to lead the people they might remain rulers of Germany for a long time
after losing their present electoral advantages.

It is fair to assume that a democracy will be less likely to go to
war than an autocracy. It is the middle and lower classes that bear
the chief burdens of war. They fight for no promotions. Generally the
happiest thing that can come to one of them is a disabling wound to
send him home with his head safely on his shoulders. Kings and their
sons are rarely killed in battle. When this war began the kaiser was
one of the proud Germans who had five tall sons of military age. After
nearly four years of fighting none of them have been seriously injured.
It would be interesting to know if there is another German father of
five sons who has been so gently treated by fortune. Report says that
fifty thousand schoolmasters were killed in Germany during the first
two years of the war. It would be interesting to learn whether or not
the titled class has given up so large a proportion of its members for
the cause of the Fatherland.

And yet, it must not be thought that wars cannot exist in democratic
countries. When Rome was a republic war was a constant thing. Athens in
her republican days had many wars. In the region that is now the United
States of America have been several wars. The war for independence was
essentially popular. It was organized by that part of the population
which resented British aristocratic institutions, the class we should
today call “the plain people.” In the civil war the demand that slavery
be destroyed did not come from the wealthy men of the North, the class
that stood for the American aristocracy, but from the middle classes,
men who filled the churches and who followed the common impulses of
the heart. It was resisted by the South, as democratically organized
as Germany would be with the Junkers turned out of power, and the
struggle was as bitter as any the world had seen up to the fatal year
1914. Democratic states can fight, and they do fight, but they are less
likely to go to war than autocratic states.

If it seems to any of us a necessary thing that autocracy must be
removed from the earth, it is well to remember that autocracy can be
removed only through the operation of a long and slow process. It can
be reduced by some great catastrophe, but it cannot be smitten out in
a day. Take away its political power, and perhaps its financial power
will be left. Undermine that by raising up a rich bourgeoisie, and its
social influence will perhaps still exist. You do not abolish it by
decree; you banish it only when you have substituted a better thing.

What force exists in Germany with which the autocracy can be
supplanted? Next to the radicals, a small faction at best, we have the
socialists, numerous enough to have great influence, but committed to a
theory of society which cannot be established until humanity has gone
through centuries of development in the principles of equality. Then we
find the national liberals, whose name is likely to mislead liberals
in other parts of the world. They would be called the stand-pat,
capitalistic portion of society in the United States, men who believe
first of all in the protection of their large interests. In the present
struggle they are committed to the Pan-Germany policy since it means
the expansion of markets for German wares. Next come the centrists,
Catholics in their primary interests, and fundamentally opposed to
the doctrines for which the socialists stand. Finally we come to the
conservatives, who believe in the autocracy. What magician can fuse
these parties into a solid movement for the establishment of really
parliamentary government?

Last obstacle of all that I shall mention here is the accumulated
machinery of war that has been built up in modern states. I do not
refer to ideas but to materials and men. Much has been written to show
that munition makers have deliberately fostered a belief in war, so
as to make a market for their products. Probably some exaggeration
exists in most of these arguments and statements. The Krupps and their
brethren have plausible grounds for saying that war is inevitable,
and that they serve it but do not promote it. But giving them as
much benefit of the doubt as they can expect, it must be true that
their very existence, and their fine application of science to their
business, have led states to count on war as a matter of course.
These great aggregations of capital have vast influence in political
circles. They have so many stockholders that they affect a large number
of influential men. So much are they committed to the cause in which
their fortunes and hearts are enlisted that they ought not to have the
opportunity to wield their peculiar influence. When this war is over,
it would be a real service if every munitions factory as such were
taken into government hands and its capital stock closed out as a
business enterprise. It is only the state, and the state in the hands
of the people, that can safely be trusted with this powerful weapon for
the creation of war sentiment.

The professional soldiers are also a part of the war machinery which
stands in the way of an enduring peace. They can hardly be expected to
become pacifists. They are trained to regard war as a necessity. All
their ideas of virtue are wrapped up in the fine qualities of a brave
soldier. Any other standard is strange to them. They may be expected
to throw all their weight of influence in favor of recurring wars. Not
that they wish wars to recur, but that they consider it improper to
contemplate anything else in the natural order of events. This is a
hard problem to deal with. A few professional soldiers may be brought
to set their faces against war; but as to the great majority, I fear
that those who try to abolish war will have to count on the opposition
of the professional warriors until the end of the chapter.

This array of obstacles to enduring peace, is it not formidable?
Economic competition, the actual if false sense of patriotism, the
desire for nationality--which is liable to run into extreme assertions
and sometimes to run counter to the strongest economic interests--the
existence of autocratic government, and the powerful influence of
munition makers and professional warriors--these are some of the
obstacles against which those must contend who try to convince the
world that peace is the better way. They may well appal the stoutest
hearted friend of enduring peace.




CHAPTER XI

ARGUMENTS FOR A FEDERATION OF STATES


The arguments against attempting to establish an enduring peace are
undoubtedly formidable, but they do not leave the idealist entirely
vanquished. On his side fight humanity and reason, and it is his
function to stand by humanity and reason. He has long ago formed the
habit of attacking obstacles. In this case the objections he meets are
all rooted in the opinions of men, and he loves to change opinions,
or, if he does not change them, to hammer away at them as long as life
lasts. For his fine optimism we can but have great respect, and in
this chapter I intend to summarize his arguments and give them to the
public in as strong a light of plausibility as possible. If the stolid
opposition of the “practical” world is not to be broken down, let it be
shaken as much as may be. The time of its defeat is written in the book
of fate. It may be that the time is near at hand.

In the first place, let me recall a statement made in the preceding
chapter. To get any desired reform adopted and carried out, it is
first necessary to get the people to imagine the reform in operation.
I mean that they must have a clear mental picture of themselves living
contentedly under the proposed plan. Let the proposition be made in
such a way that the effective people who direct the government can not,
or will not, in the mind’s eye see it in operation, and it will surely
fail. Let them imagine its successful use and they will most likely
find it unobjectionable. Likewise, if the people of the world could
imagine a great coöperative union to promote peace, with enough force
behind it to enforce the will of the union, if in their minds they
could see themselves adjusted into such a system, with all its economy
in taxes, human suffering, and ordinary governmental effort, it would
not be very difficult to make such a scheme work in actual experience.

The “practical” man has but little imagination. He has to be deceived
into the acceptance of reforms. Make him believe that a given plan
has been made to work and his objections are diminished, if not
overcome altogether. This is not said for scolding but as a sober
fact confronting the man who reasons his way through matters that
perplex him. The “practical” man is not responsible for his weakness,
and he is in the majority among men. On the other hand, the man with
imagination is not to be faint-hearted. If he can see and talk, he may,
by reiteration finally make his brothers see also.

Fundamentally his position rests upon the reasonableness of his
proposition: war is madness, brutality, useless waste of wealth
and life, and the negation of civilization. It proceeds from the
unnecessarily irritated state of the public mind. Reason demands that
she be allowed to have an opportunity to exert her influence in a
reasonable world over reasonable beings. Since law is the expression of
the will of reasonable beings, let law be given the supervision of all
the disputes which may possibly lead to war. How true all this sounds!
And the preacher of peace says boldly that it is more worth while to
plan, spend money, and take a chance in a great world effort to bring
such a reasonable situation to pass than to go on planning, spending,
and risking things in the efforts to make a system work that has ever
led us around in a circle to the same old end, war and misery.

The advocate of peace points to the duel. There was a time when every
man felt it his right and duty to settle his own quarrels. He was
his own judge and his own sheriff. The result was so bad that law
was created to enforce peace between individuals. The old condition
survived in the duel, but in most countries this at last was brought
under the authority of law. Private combat in its nature does not
differ from public combat, and if one was eliminated by the creation of
a law that was strong enough to forbid it, the other can be abolished
by creating a still stronger law, powerful enough to restrain states as
criminal law restrains individuals.

Kant’s argument for perpetual peace ran like this, but he, in sympathy
with Rousseau’s social contract theory, argued that the law that
restrained individuals was the result of agreement between individuals;
and he went further and argued that all that was necessary to secure
perpetual peace would be for the states to agree to establish a league,
or a federation, to enforce it.

Now there was a fallacy in Kant’s argument that has a bearing on the
subject immediately before us today. There is no reason to suppose that
any state ever arose from an agreement of individuals. The ordinary
process was growth out of several conditions. An enlarged family might
become a state, or one tribe might conquer another and enlarge itself
into a state. Kinship and force were probably the chief causes in
producing the state; and reason seems to have played a small part.
Similarly, law grew up, not as the result of reason, but as a body of
tribal customs, reasonably interpreted by the wise men of the early
state.

There is, therefore, no analogy between the proposed method of forming
a great super-state with its own body of law, the object of which is
to restrain the states from going to war, and the method by which the
early state was created. In fact, if one great nation were to conquer
the rest of the world and impose its peace on all the world, as it
would do, we should have a process more analogous to the origin of the
early state. And that is one way of having peace. Within the last years
it has seemed a horribly possible method; for if Mittel-Europa becomes
a fact, it will have such predominating power that it is difficult to
see what will stop its march to general authority.

Pointing out Kant’s fallacy weakens his argument as such, but it leaves
us in such a dilemma that we are prone to pronounce his suggestion
worth trying as an escape from conquest by one great power. For if the
world is tending toward unity through conquest, who can doubt that it
would be better to anticipate the process, save a great sum of human
suffering, and by agreement found the world federation which is the
same result to which ages of war will lead us. That we could have such
a super-state by contract is not to be doubted. It would be as possible
as the creation of the United States of America by agreement.

Another argument of the peace advocate is that the old system by which
the world was kept in equilibrium, the balance of power, has broken
down, and cannot be trusted to preserve the peace of the future. Its
chief characteristic was that several states mutually checked one
another. If one manifested an intention that was alarming to the rest
they combined to restrict the action of the aggressor. The several
states were with regard to one another in a condition mobile enough to
permit any state to shift from one side to another as the situation
demanded. Now this condition no longer exists. There has developed a
mid-continental alliance, apparently expecting to continue to act as
one state for practical purposes, which in itself threatens to dominate
Europe. To hold it in check calls forth all the united force of the
other states and then success is obtained only through the greatest
amount of preparedness. Such a condition is anything but the old system
which was to work through balance and concert of action.

The central position of the Germans and Austrians gives them an immense
advantage, if the world is to go on in its national rivalries. On
the west lie the two nations who are today doing most to hold them
in restraint, France and Great Britain. The former could never stand
against Germany alone, and the latter is remote enough from the German
frontier to make it improbable that her forces could reach that spot in
time to prevent the Germans from gaining the initial advantage which,
in a state of efficient preparation is the only military success that
either side can hope to win. In the face of a strong and threatening
Germany it would be very likely that these two nations would have to
make a more than formal alliance. Even if that happened, it is possible
that Germany would construe it as a threat and begin war.

The only other strong check on the central powers is Russia, now
in a sad state of change. What her future is going to be is still
problematic. It is a stupendous task for so large a nation, composed
of landlords and peasants for the most part, to pass from an autocracy
to a self-governing nation. It took France, a smaller country, from
1789 to 1879 to pass through the various changes and counter-changes by
which she reformed her government into a republic. It is safe to say
that in the Russian development the changes will come more rapidly, but
it is not impossible that in this country a period of prolonged unrest
is ahead. Under such circumstances Russia could hardly be counted on to
give much aid to the Western nations who wished to restrain Germany. In
fact, so fluid would be the state of her society that she might well
become the victim of German ambition and contribute valuable parts of
her empire to swell the resources of her aggressive western neighbors.

One insecure spot must be pointed out in this argument. It is the
continuous close alliance of Germany and Austria-Hungary. If that
breaks down the whole argument fails. At the present time it is
impossible to say what may happen in this respect. Much will depend
on the new emperor of the Dual Empire. That he has a very difficult
problem before him is without question. On one hand is the intense
Hungarian aversion to absorption by Germany, on the other the
passionate desire for union by the German people in the Dual Empire. It
is supposed that the emperor does not favor absorption; but it seems
certain that he is not able at this time to take an open stand against
it.

The strong part Germany has taken in saving Austria from Russia gives
Germany a firm hold over the imagination of the Austrian people. It is
possible that financial aid has also been extended to such an amount
that Austria would be embarrassed if called on to pay back. Nor is the
kaiser in Berlin in a mood to brook defiance from Vienna. If, therefore
Kaiser Karl wishes to be free of his too intimate dependence on Kaiser
Wilhelm, he will find it to his advantage to conceal his desire for
the time being. It is probable that we shall not know the present true
state of feelings in Austria for several years after the war. But
unless she is very well Germanized, it would seem that she must soon
realize that she is playing a losing game in the combined movement.
The real advantages of this war, if any are obtained, are German
advantages. It is German trade, German _kultur_, and German prestige
that are being enhanced by the war. Austria as Austria is not reaping
advantages commensurate with the gains of her greater partner.

The financial argument seems to be much on the side of the peace
advocate. Let us consider the situation in which the European states
will find themselves after the return of peace. Bankruptcy is a
relative term, if we so interpret it. That is to say, if the people
are willing to bear patiently their great burdens they will bear them,
and the debts that have been acquired will be shouldered. If one
nation repudiates this debt, or scales it down, it is probable that
the others will do the same, since to continue to carry the debt would
leave the faithful nation at a disadvantage with the other nations in
reference to future struggles with one another.

No one knows as yet just who owns the bonds in the several nations.
From Germany we hear that they are widely held. It is the policy of
the government of any nation to distribute a heavy debt as widely as
possible; and we have in recent history instances of great patriotism
in assuming debts of this kind. Now it is fair to say that the
more widely the debt is distributed, the greater its likelihood of
permanency. The larger the number of poor people who own it, the harder
it will be to lessen the burden of the nation. It follows that in this
case the immense interest charge is likely to persist as a permanent
encumbrance on the economic life of the country.

On the other hand, let us say that it turns out that the debt is not
very widely distributed after all, or that after the war it follows the
course of most national debts and passes into the hands of the rich.
Then we have the situation likely to promote class friction. The taxes
necessary to pay the interest will fall on the mass of people, who
will probably come to believe that they are taxed for the benefit of
the wealthy. Class jealousy will lead to suggestions of repudiation.
Such a course is more than ordinarily easy in Germany, France, and
Russia, where there are well organized socialist parties, already
keenly suspicious of the capitalists.

Thus, whether the debt is widely distributed or not, it contains a
menace to society. In one case it constitutes such a burden that it
absorbs the financial strength of the government. In the other it
invites the most formidable struggle of the poor against the rich that
the world has seen in a century.

Such a situation is bad enough in itself, but it does not directly
affect the question of peace, our main consideration at this time;
for the debt will exist as a result of the war, and nothing in the
view of the friends of peace can prevent it. But through whichever of
the two contingent courses it goes, the state will have difficulty in
continuing the old system.

Let us say that we have a permanent great debt with a huge interest
fund, and the state wishes to add to the taxes in order to keep up
its measures of preparedness. The result must be to produce uneasiness
in the minds of the taxpayers. In Germany, for example, the interest
charge and the provision for pensions on account of the present war
will probably be considerably more than a billion dollars a year.
Added to the ordinary expenses of government it will make a burden
more than double that of 1913. Can the government go on providing
armaments, that may lead to another war, without jeopardizing the
loans that are already issued? In the face of such heavy taxation it
would not be surprising if the people sold their holdings of bonds
to the capitalists and later turned toward repudiation. On the other
hand, it would be to the interest of the capitalists to favor moderate
expenditures for armaments and armies, lest the patience of the people
under their burdens might be exhausted.

But suppose the debt was not distributed widely in the first place,
and suppose it was repudiated after a class struggle, or for any other
reason scaled down. The result would be a severe blow to credit, and
in the future it might be so difficult to raise funds that war could
not be carried on. No nation can afford to contemplate war if it has
not borrowing capacity. If the debts of one war are repudiated those of
another may also be repudiated. It behooves the capitalists, therefore,
to support a policy which will make armed conflict impossible. While
bonds benefit the banker when issued up to a certain point, they can
in some conditions become his most serious difficulty. So many perils
await the capitalist from a renewal of struggles like the present, that
it is not too much to count upon him as a supporter of peace until the
financial situation in Europe shall become better than it will be for
many a day. It is his true interest to support a federated peace, which
will tend to make his bonds secure.

As to the influence of autocracy, the advocate of peace must admit
that it is by nature hostile to his system of coöperative peace.
Such coöperation must depend on mutual confidence and trust between
nations; and it is natural for distrust to exist between republican and
autocratic states. The whole trend of autocracy is to self-assertion.
As it exists in Germany today it could hardly be relied on to take its
place in any union of states which would involve the subordination of
individual national interests to the common good.

Granting this, the advocate of peace can assert that Germany must
eventually give up autocracy. As the only great nations that hold to
this relic of a departed age Germany and Austria-Hungary are becoming
anachronisms. They are set against the spirit of the twentieth
century. If they tide over the crisis that now confronts them they
will encounter more furious storms at a later time, and eventually
autocracy must be broken down. The argument rests on faith in progress.
It is the result of confidence in the innate qualities of human nature.
So many times in the past ages have the people risen against bad
government, that it is safe to say they will repeat the process until
all inequality shall have been reduced.

German autocracy, a survival of a past century, exists only because it
takes for its object the good government of a parliamentary system.
In intelligence and honesty it is not like the ancient system. The
resemblance is only in forms. The republican says: “I will give the
people just, intelligent, and honest government.” The German autocrat
says: “I will do all these things”; and he redeems his promise. His
brother of the eighteenth century had no such purpose, being so certain
of his position that he did not have to promise the people anything.
The German autocrat lives in fear of an overthrow. Perhaps some day he
will make a slip--it may be from the action of an unwise emperor or a
selfish party clique--and away will go the whole system.

Last summer a crisis arose in Berlin. The very life of the autocracy
seemed about to be taken. It was saved finally by a narrow margin,
and with the making of promises which seem a long step forward. The
people were assured that such was their meaning. If the promises are
broken, there will be a reckoning. It may be said that there will never
again be so good an opportunity to force the granting of parliamentary
reforms. That statement is contestable. The autocracy needs the support
of the people at present, in order to bring Germany through the crisis
that has arisen from the action of the autocracy, and it may seem from
that standpoint that the people never had and will never have an
equally good opportunity to strike a blow. But the call of patriotism
is strong in Germany, and if the liberally minded persons were to
stand deliberately for the defeat of the war credits unless they were
given the reforms they demanded, it is doubtful if the people would
support them. It is hard to carry a country through a great political
revolution while the very life of the country is threatened.

After war comes a time of questioning. The German people will have
reason to ask themselves what has been done to them. The burdens of
taxes, the loss of commerce, the wrecks of human life through maiming,
and the great gaps in population through death, all these things can
but come to the minds of the people. At that time the press must lose
something of its rigorous control, for it is impossible that when the
Germans get over the feeling that their country is in danger they will
continue to tolerate a press whose every word is dictated by the one
thought of keeping the people solidly united in war sentiment. If it
should happen that the empire has an emperor who is not trusted by the
people it may be that the questioning will sweep away many old doubts
and forms.

These things should not be taken as prophecy, but as possibilities
for tempering the opinion that Germany is destined to be permanently
autocratic. The advocate of an enduring peace has a right to think a
self-governing Germany well within the bounds of possibility before
another decade has elapsed. If such a thing happens, certainly one of
the most serious obstacles to peace will have been removed.

I shall venture to put one more argument into the mouth of the advocate
of peace. Probably he has not used it as I am going to use it, but it
works his way; for it shows that a tremendous fate threatens, unless
some coöperative movement is established to avert it. Stated briefly it
is this: Through the ages runs a law of unification in society, and it
seems probable that the world has today come to the point at which the
unifying force is likely to take a long stride forward, a force which
may operate in one of two directions. I mean that with the next century
unification seems imminent by conquest, if not by common consent.

It is not easy to say that the process of concentration in human
society is a law in the sense in which there is law in natural science.
But there is a general social tendency, seemingly irrepressible,
operating steadily from the beginning of history, for the political
units to be larger and ever larger. If this tendency is not a law it is
an extremely strong force; and we may well ask if it is not about to
take one of its great steps forward.

A glance at the past will show how the process has gone on. In ancient
times diminutive states were absorbed by larger but still very small
states, which in turn were welded into so-called confederacies, or
leagues, which at last became integrated states. The concentration
went forward in cycles, one empire rising in power until it ruled most
of its known world, and then it broke into pieces through its lack of
cohesive power. Thus it was with Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and
Rome. Whenever the bubble burst the process of unification began again
immediately, and on a larger scale. After the fall of Rome it was again
set in motion in an area that included most of Europe, the unifying
hand belonging to Charlemagne, king of the Franks. His personal valor
won the triumph of his will, but his empire fell away soon after he
relaxed his hold upon it.

Then began a rebuilding process. Feudal states evolved out of clashing
duchies, counties, and bishoprics. Immediately feudal states began to
devour one another. With each century the unit of government became
larger. At last rose the great power of Spain, so great that it became
a threat to other powers, and then followed a series of wars to decide
whether or not Spain should be the supreme state in Europe, and Spain
lost. A century later France seemed to be seeking to establish herself
in the same kind of supremacy, and again the combined force of Europe
was necessary to break her purposes. Still later came the Napoleonic
wars, in which Europe seemed for a moment to be subjected by one
central will, but again it was saved through great suffering. To some
people it seemed that the Napoleonic attempt would be the last.

Of these modern struggles in Europe it is seen that each has been
harder than the struggle that preceded it. That is because in each the
implements and organization of warfare were improved as compared with
the former struggle, and because states were stronger and more capable
of endurance. It is also evident that each of these great wars was the
result of the ambition of one sovereign, supported by a strong and well
united nobility, while in each case the most effective resistance was
offered by the states in which some degree of self-government had been
adopted.

The struggle that now exists is the highest manifestation of this
tendency to unification that the world has seen since the fall of Rome.
Although Napoleon seemed at certain moments in his career to stand
nearer absolute success than Germany now stands, he never really gained
as much as the kaiser now holds; for he won his successes against the
poorly trained and dispirited troops of Prussia, Austria, and Spain,
while the Germans have won what they have won against some of the
best troops of history. Moreover, Napoleon’s power was founded on his
success solely, while the German victories rest on the long established
and certain foundation of the German empire. It seems reasonable to say
that Europe stands today nearer to unification than it has stood since
the fall of Charlemagne’s power.

Two great combinations are fighting for mastery. One has the avowed
purpose of extending its power until it is in a fair way to absorb the
rest of the states one after the other. The other group fights to beat
off the fate that threatens, and it acknowledges that it cannot succeed
unless it crushes its opponents into such a state as will take from
them the desire and the power to attempt another war for supremacy.
Whichever side wins, the other will feel an impulse to continue to act
in alliance. And we may have a Europe of two great federal states, with
the little states at their mercy.

For example, how can Great Britain and France ever be opponents again,
as in the old days? The sense of common sacrifices would of itself make
them more than friends, but the consciousness that each depends on the
other in dealing with the great danger will never fail them, and it
will force them into some kind of political union. In the same way, we
should expect to see a greatly altered relation between Great Britain
and her colonies. Three-quarters of a million of colonial defenders
constitute a contribution that demands reward. As the colonies depend
on the mother country for some important elements of defense, and Great
Britain cannot comfort herself with the assurance of safety unless she
has a broad imperial power for its basis, it would seem natural to
expect some kind of imperial union. As to Belgium, when she escapes
from the grasp of Germany, what mind has the ingenuity to foresee her
fate? If she relies on the promise of neutralization, she is again
tempting fate. If she is annexed to France, with some kind of autonomy,
German enmity will be aroused.

Probably her fate is to be bound up with the fate of the other small
states of Europe, states which in the present war are hardly entirely
sovereign. Holland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, Greece, and
Portugal have lost something of the power to direct their internal
affairs. In war they have had a lesson of the necessity of bending to
the will of an external government, which they will probably remember
many times in the days of peace. When once a state has yielded at the
dictation of a neighbor, and made money out of it, the next time it
is pressed yielding becomes an easier thing. The fate of these small
states in a possible era of fierce competition between two great groups
would be very perplexing. In an era of peace through federation, says
the advocate of peace, it would be much happier.

In short, it is a practical question that our idealist puts to us. Here
is a world that has gone mad, shall it not turn to reason again? The
old system has broken down, shall we try to make it work again? To do
so will lead us to just the disaster that now overwhelms us. Shall we
not try a plan which will not cost us in money half what the old system
of preparation cost, and which if it fails cannot be more of a failure
than the old system has proved? If autocracy stands in the way, let us
hope that autocracy will give way before the march of the spirit of the
times. And finally, the law of unification is working so strongly in
these days of international relations, that we are at last at the point
at which we cannot longer elect to remain distinct in our national
activities. We must choose between a world state through conquest, and
a world state through mutual agreement. Which shall we take? To try to
go on with the states entirely distinct, is to invite their conquest by
a great state.




CHAPTER XII

A FEDERATION OF NATIONS


Taking into consideration the obstacles and the advantages summarized
in the two preceding chapters what are we going to do when the war
comes to an end? The easiest and most likely thing is to adjust
ourselves as quickly and quietly as possible to the peace that is given
to us, take up the old problems of living as nearly as we can where
we left them in 1914--or in 1917, when the war began for the United
States--and trust to our good stars to guide us to a happy haven. But
if there is one thing this war has shown, it is that trusting to stars
is not a safe protection against war. The only thing sensible people
ought to count on in these days is the judgment of their capable and
efficient minds. And it seems that the suggestion of the men who wish
to obtain peace by coöperation is worthy of the most careful debate by
men who have the best interest of humanity at heart.

When the war ends it may be that the world will not have arrived
at the time when such a scheme can be adopted, but we should not be
hasty in saying so. It is not a scheme to be disposed of by newspaper
editors, who rarely have time to weigh the conditions of such a serious
matter, or of senators and representatives, whose views arise out of
party interests, or of high officials as a class, who are usually
overburdened with administrative matters. It is a thing for all the
people to consider, and in order that it may have the fairest and
most conspicuous hearing, there should be a great world congress, not
composed of theorists merely, but of the most practical statesmen, who
will take up the matter in a spirit of friendliness, with the intention
of adopting the scheme if it can be received in a manner that warrants
the hope of success.

Every nation in the world has reason to desire the establishment of an
enduring peace; but the United States has a larger interest in such
an issue of the war than any other nation. Since we became a nation
we have gone on developing along peaceful lines. Having had no reason
to fear our neighbors and being so remote from Europe that we were
not likely to be molested from that part of the world, we formed
our institutions on the basis of peace. Our public ideals, our sense
of citizenship, the aims of our law-making have all been such as are
natural for a nation that has nothing to fear from external enemies.

One result of the present war is to relegate these ideals into the
junk-heap of institutions, unless we can be assured that peace is a
certainty. Under a system of competition between states we cannot
afford to be less ready for war than any other great nation. We must
have a large navy and a great army ready to meet the blows of any
power that feels that it has reason to interfere with our peaceful
development. We must become a militaristic republic, a thing which
seems against nature. When such an attempt has been made in the past,
the result has been an oligarchy. In the United States it would
probably lead to a sad clash of social classes mingled with vicious
party politics and timidity in the national legislature. And yet, under
a continuation of the old system it would be folly to endeavor to get
along without an army and navy large enough to protect us from the
initial swoop of some powerful adversary.

If from this fate the advocate of coöperation can offer an escape, it
behooves us to listen to his scheme. We should weigh it carefully and
be willing to take some kind of a chance to secure its adoption, if in
it there is the possibility of successful operation.

To be perfectly fair to those who suggest leagues or federations we
should remember that we are not dealing with the ideas of pacifists, as
such. The schemes that are set forth by the friends of lasting peace
come from men who are giving all their energies to the prosecution of
the war. They believe, as much as any of us, that the war should be
pressed with every ounce of the nation’s strength. They are fighting as
hard as any one in the country, and they desire the defeat of Germany
as much as any soldier or statesman in the world. They are fighting to
establish a basis on which the peace of the world can be built. They
are not cranks, and even if they are mistaken, they are honestly trying
to call mankind to the better way.

One of their suggestions is a league of peace, to be composed of the
civilized nations. As we have seen, it is loosely organized and does
not allow the central authority of the league enough power to punish
a state that tries to withdraw from the league. Nor does it grant the
central authority the right to punish a state which, after submitting
its case to the proposed tribunal of arbitration and losing the
decision, decides to go to war in defiance of the tribunal’s judgment.
What would Germany do, for example, if she had lost such a judgment and
did not wish to accept her defeat? Strong and well prepared for war,
she might disregard all respect for the opinion of the world, if she
felt that her future was at stake, and we can hardly doubt that her own
people would support her.

Connected with the idea of a league is the plan, advocated by those
who place respect for law above all other considerations, for creating
a high court of judicature, with judges selected from all nations,
which shall have authority to try and give judgment on all disputes
of nations. As a part of a strongly organized federation such a court
would have great influence, but if it existed under a league it could
hardly have enough authority to secure the obedience of the great
states. As for the small states, they never give trouble any how,
except as they act in association with some great state, or as they
are threatened by some great power. No union for peace can accomplish
its object that does not deal with the great states, and any scheme
suggested may leave the small states out of consideration. On the other
hand, the small states are deeply interested in forming such a union,
since it would give them a safety they could hardly get otherwise.

The proposed plans for a league of peace and for an international
court of arbitration were announced before the war or in its early
stages. They were made with an eye to the most that the nations could
be induced to give up of their control over their own actions. It is
possible that their authors would not follow the same plans if they
were forced to make them today. The war has shown us several things.
It has revealed Germany’s reason for opposing steadily all the real
peace plans at the Hague conferences. It has shown us what fate
awaits the world after the war, unless there is a return to reason
and coöperation. It is possible that in writing out a plan for peace
today the gentlemen who met in Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia, in June,
1915, would feel justified in supporting a stronger proposition.

Mr. H. N. Brailsford, in a book called _A League of Nations_, London,
1917, announces the outline of a working scheme, which he hopes
the friends of peace will consider. Its chief features are: 1. An
international court of justice to consider and pass on justiciable
cases, with a council of conciliation to pass on non-justiciable cases,
and a pledge by the states that they will not make war nor mobilize
their troops until the court or council has within a stipulated time
passed on the several matters in dispute. 2. An executive of the league
to take steps, military or economic, to enforce the obligations of
the members of the league. 3. The guarantee of the right of secession
together with the possibility of expelling a state. 4. A consideration
of disarmament on land and sea. 5. An international commission to
see that all the signatory powers have access to raw material in
manufactures, with a pledge to permit trading among themselves without
discrimination and to follow the “open door” policy in trade with the
undeveloped regions of the world.

In this scheme we see the influence of the war. The author is brought
to see that some form of central authority to coërce a state is
necessary. On the other hand, he does not allow his league to become
a law-making body, an omission that goes far to weaken the united
efforts of the league. Guaranteeing the right of secession, also shows
that the author of the plan is unwilling to merge the nations into
a great state, in which they will each give up a portion of their
sovereignty. His plan is a little stronger than the American plan but
it nevertheless falls short of being a federation.

If we are to make a serious attempt to obtain enduring peace by
coöperation it behooves us to start on the basis of sufficient force to
insure that the attempt will be worth while. If that cannot be done,
it is unwise to make the attempt, since to trust ourselves at this
juncture to that which we have good reason to believe insufficient
only lulls us to a false sense of security and dissipates resolution
that might with better effect be used in an opposite direction. If we
do not have peace through coöperation we must maintain a sharp state
of preparation for war. Furthermore, no people can be rallied to a
scheme which seems insufficient to them. Give them that which they
can trust and they can perhaps be made to support it, in spite of the
inconveniences they find in it.

Probably it is not too much to say that the only form of united action
that can be relied on is a federation with enough cohesive force to
guard against secession, repress any constituent state that defies
the united will, make laws that concern the purposes for which the
federation is formed, exercise the right of interpreting those laws
by a system of federal courts, and maintain an executive that can
make itself obeyed. It need not have these extensive functions for
all the areas of government, but it should have them for those things
that concern the declaration of war and the preservation of peace. It
means that to escape an era of conflict ending, perhaps, in a world
united through conquest as the Roman Empire was united, we establish
by agreement a world united through federation, as the United States
of America were united. A league of nations, under the plans suggested
above, would be only a half-way house that would lead to rupture and
failure or to some future struggle out of which a world taught by
experience might possibly form “a more perfect union.”

Some of the fundamental ideas of a federation were embodied, as we have
seen, in the plans of the Abbé St. Pierre and the philosopher, Kant.
Living at a time when the state was conceived as the seat of power,
they trusted to force to execute the will of the suggested government
that was to provide peace. Bentham, however, was deeply impressed
with morality as a force for good government, and he was willing to
trust his proposed system to the reasonable impulses of men. To him it
is possible to reply that if men were so reasonable that they would
respect an agreement to settle disputes by arbitration, they would
be reasonable enough to avoid the differences which run into such
disputes. In our modern world reason thrives best when it is reënforced
by authority.

The attempt of Alexander I, of Russia, to obtain some practical
realization of the principle of a federated Europe in behalf of peace
followed these lines as closely as could be expected, but, it must be
confessed, in a very lame way. The failure of his efforts has been
taken as proof that the idea is impracticable. But it does not follow
that it is impracticable to the same extent and in the same way today
as in 1815. No Metternich now controls the policy of the majority of
the European courts. Republican institutions exist to an appreciable
extent in most of them. The mind of Europe is more nearly a unit today
than a century ago, and commerce, travel, and international sympathy
bind nations together as never before. Moreover all these unifying
forces are growing rapidly. When the feeling engendered by the war
subsides, and it always does subside after a war, the nations will
be more conscious of one another and less willing to challenge one
another than before they engaged in the present appalling struggle.
In these things there is a hope that the federation of Europe for the
preservation of peace would be more possible than in the times of
Metternich. I do not mean that all obstacles are removed, but they are
fewer than formerly.

Considering these things I find myself driven, in closing my essay,
to a serious examination of the possibility of creating a world
federation out of the chaos that now floats over the globe--not an
integrated world empire, with power over all phases of political
action, but a federation that will have authority to regulate the
forces that make for war. If such a thing could be created and accepted
by the states of the world, it would make the present struggle, with
all its horrors, the best and most fortunate event that has come to
humanity since the beginning of the Christian era. If the war should
result in the thorough defeat of the present régime in Germany,
followed by the creation of a world federation into which Germany
should be forced to come, with her pride so reduced that she could be
kept obedient to the federation until the virus of world power should
get out of her system, the world would have passed a milestone in
civilization, and for our part in it future generations would thank us
to the end of time.

The organization of the American Union in 1787-1789 was a similar
process on a smaller scale. So many of its features are analogous to
conditions that suggest themselves in connection with the proposition
of a world federation that it is worth while to recall them. If we are
not led to conclude that a similar step should be taken at this time
in the larger sphere, we shall at least have a clearer idea of what
such a federation would mean, and it may happen that we shall conclude
that it is not so difficult a thing to establish as appears on first
sight.

Before the war for independence the American colonies it is true,
were not as separate as the present European states, but they were so
distinct in their ideals and purposes that no one thought their union
possible. When Franklin proposed a very mild sort of concentration in
1754 his suggestion was rejected in the colonies because it involved
the surrender of some of the colonial separateness. Had no pressure
come from the outside it is difficult to see what would have forced the
thirteen colonies to come together.

The external pressure was the conviction that Great Britain was about
to adopt a policy by which the interests of the colonies would be
subservient to the interests of British traders, thus destroying their
partially avowed hope of a distinctly American policy. Then came seven
years of war and four years of fear lest Great Britain should recover
through American dissension what she had lost in the trial of arms.
Under such conditions the newly liberated states were willing to form
the American union.

A similar pressure on the nations will exist in the burden of
preparedness and the danger of a renewal of the present struggle. The
last three years of conflict are more burdensome to the world than the
seven years of the American revolution to the states engaged against
Great Britain. Moreover, the danger of chaotic conditions in the future
is as great as the danger that confronted the Americans in 1787. Every
period is a critical period in history, but that which follows the
present struggle is especially important.

When our revolution ended a majority of our people thought the old
system good enough. The men--and there were many of them--who pointed
out the advantages to the western world of a great federated state
were pronounced idealists. “Practical” men meant to go on living in a
“practical” way. But the idealists were led by Washington, Madison,
and Hamilton, and the logic of events came to their aid. Dissensions
appeared, taxes were not paid, and the national debt seemed on the
verge of repudiation. Then the country was willing to listen to the
idealists; and the American federated state was established.

It was received with derision by the publicists of Europe. They could
not believe that republican government would succeed in an area as
large as that of the thirteen states. Their fears were not realized
and today most of their descendants live under republican government
of some form or other. We should not blame them too much. They had
never seen republican government operated on a large scale, and they
were not able to imagine that it could operate on a large scale. If
they could have seen it working with their mind’s eye, they would have
had confidence in its operation. The Americans were accustomed to
using their imagination, and seeing the “experiment” working in their
imagination, they could adopt it and make it work.

The greatest obstacle to “federation” in the American constitutional
convention was the jealousy of small states toward the large states.
Since it would have been unwise to leave any state out of the proposed
system, the small states were in a position to make demands. When they
were allowed equality in the senate they became quite reasonable. This
obstacle could hardly exist in the formation of a great federation for
the elimination of war; for the small states would probably be the
first to accept such a plan, as our small states were most willing to
adopt our constitution, once it was prepared. It would give them as
perfect security as they could desire, and without such a guaranty
their continued existence is always precarious.

Next to the fears of the small states was the unwillingness of many
people in the states to give up the idea that only a state should
control the happiness of its citizens, and that the union, if formed,
would destroy or lessen individual liberty. This idea inhered in
whatever idea of state sovereignty the people of the day held. To form
a federation to enforce peace would undoubtedly limit to some extent
the sovereignty of the present states of Europe. But sovereignty in
itself is worth nothing. It exists to give in general some forms
of life and dignity to states. If a surrender of part of a state’s
sovereignty will give that state immunity from wars perpetually, is it
not sovereignty well exchanged? No American state suffered because
it gave up control over its right to make war, but, on the contrary,
it gained immensely. Such a right is a costly necessity, a thing to
be held tenaciously as long as we are in a condition which makes wars
necessary, but to be given up as quickly as we can do without it.

To enter a federation would mean that individual nations would give
up the right to expand their territories. Germany could not acquire
more territory under such a system, unless she got it by agreement of
the parties concerned. The British empire could become no larger by
any forceful process. But this would not be a hardship. The only real
justification of expansion is to enlarge trade areas. A federation
to eliminate war would necessarily adopt a policy which allowed all
states an “open door” in trade. This was one of the essential things in
the formation of our union; for we read that no state shall interfere
within its borders with the rights of the citizens of other states to
trade there. Under such circumstances territorial expansion becomes
useless.

When the American states were trying to form that simple kind of union
that was expressed in the articles of confederation, Maryland long
refused to join. She was jealous of the great size of her neighbors and
especially of Virginia, whose claim to the Northwest was in general not
disputed. Experience showed that her fears were groundless. Virginia
not only never became a menace to Maryland, but she soon realized
that her wide boundaries were worthless to her under a system which
guaranteed her against quarrels with her neighbors, and as a result she
surrendered her Northwestern lands. Under a federation an undeveloped
part of Asia or Africa would be open as freely to Germans as to others
for trade, settlement, and the happiness of life, just as our Northwest
was open to Virginians, Pennsylvanians, and New Englanders alike. The
only thing that Virginia gave up in relinquishing her lands was the
right to call herself a big state, that is, self-glorification, a thing
the nations would have to give up in a federation. But might it not be
well exchanged for the right to call themselves safe from warfare?

When the American constitution was being debated the small states
declared they would not “federate” unless they were given privileges
which guaranteed them against absorption by the large states, while the
large states declared they would not “federate” unless it was arranged
that the small states should not have the power to defeat measures that
were for the common good. Each side was very honest in suspecting the
other, and great patience and persistence were necessary to bring them
together in a compromise which gave neither what it at first demanded.
For us it is interesting to observe that in actual practice there has
never been a time when the large states seemed to threaten to devour
the small states, nor a time when the small states placed their welfare
against any measure that concerned the general good of the country. The
union formed, the people began to debate questions that had nothing
to do with this or that state, general policies that cut across great
sections of the federation, without regard to the states as such.

It seems that if a federation of Europe were once formed a development
might be expected of a somewhat similar nature. At least, it is not
unlikely that the clashes predicted by the doubters would not be as
violent as they fear. It seems certain that at once a new class of
issues would engage the minds of the politicians, issues that would
spring from the general interests that were conceived essential to
life in the new grouping. It is not possible to say what clashes might
grow out of these general issues, but it is probable that the genius
of man would be as competent to take care of them as to direct the
issues that will arise if the world goes on under a system like that
now in use; for clashes we must have in any event. After all, humanity
has to manage its own problems, and there will never be a government
under which it will not have all it can do to make the doubts of today
resolve themselves into the confidence of tomorrow.

In our American constitution-making one often heard the question,
“What will become of the liberties of the citizen of the state under
the federation?” The answer was well made at the time: “Will not the
citizen of the state still be the citizen of the state, and will not
the state continue to guarantee him all that it can now guarantee
him? Does he not also pass under the protection of the federation as
truly as the citizens of any of the states? All that the federation
proposes to do is to take charge of the functions that concern the
things for which the federation is founded, and these are things to
which the states are not so well adjusted as a united government.” And
so it proved in practice. No American has ever had reason to think
his liberty lessened because the union was formed; and he has been
immensely stronger in all his rights on the high seas, in traveling
abroad, in being safe from the burdens of foreign wars, and in his
rights of trade in the uttermost parts of the earth; for he has been
the citizen of a great federation of small states.

Applying the analogy to the suggested federation of the world it
appears that under such a system the citizen of France, Great Britain,
Russia, or the United States would in nowise lose his rights under
his own government, and he would gain vastly in relief from burdens.
He would no longer have to think of wars, his trade relations would
be adjusted in such a way that no other man could have what he did
not have. In short, for all the purposes for which the federation was
founded he would stand on equal footing with any other man, and for the
purposes for which his own state existed he would have all the rights
he had before. His only losses would be in casting off the burdens
that grow out of international rivalry under the present system.

One of the things for which the American union was created was the
payment of the revolutionary debts. Compared with the debts the colony
had incurred individually before the revolution, and compared with
their ability to pay them at the time, these debts were large, although
they proved, under the union, a very small burden. It was the sense of
security under a government which had eliminated the possibility of
interstate wars that made the burden light.

The amount of indebtedness that the several nations in the present
war have contracted seems appalling. It would become a comparatively
light burden, if we could feel that for the future the world had
nothing to do but to pay it. The waste of interstate rivalry, the
burden of preparations for future wars, the loss to industry through
uncertainties on account of wars, all these things would disappear from
the consideration of the financiers, the credit of a federated world
would become excellent, and bonds that are likely to be quoted very low
when the artificial stimulus they get from patriotism is taken away
would be considered better investments than any bonds ever offered
under the existing system of states. The capitalists of the world,
like the American capitalists of 1787-1789, should be the most earnest
supporters of federation.

In the United States a great deal has been said about “entangling
alliances.” As the term was used a century ago it meant an alliance
that was likely to make us parties to the quarrels of European states,
one against the other. Into such a maze of selfish maneuvers it would
never be well for us to enter. But to take our place in a federation to
preserve peace would be quite another thing. That it would pledge us to
the discharge of a duty is not to be doubted; but we should be entering
no intrigue. We should be doing the most patriotic thing possible; for
the very essence of the act would be to protect ourselves from the
possibility of being drawn into “entangling alliances” with Europe.
Let us suppose that the old system is continued, and that Germany has
a mind to pay off what she may consider an old score. Suppose she
tries to set Mexico up against us, or to induce Japan to attack the
Philippines, or to interfere with any weaker American government in
such a way as to threaten the integrity of the Monroe doctrine, have
we not an “entangling alliance” on hand? If Germany emerges from the
present war strong enough to threaten the world as before the war,
when other nations found it necessary to form _ententes_ against her,
we shall not dare remain outside of some kind of alliance that will
be formed to check her pretensions. World federation is the guaranty
against the formation of “entangling alliances” on the part of the
United States.

In drawing the parallels between the formation of our union and the
possible creation of a federation of nations, it is hard to avoid the
inference that the two systems lead to the same end, federated general
government. And yet they are not the same. Our union was created to
take over a large area of government which the individual states could
not conduct successfully. It has a direct bearing on the citizens of
the states, it even has its own citizenship, although it was a long
time after 1787 before it was defined. It has popular elections, a
postal system, and hundreds of other things which no one would allot
to the kind of federation discussed here. It has been cited only for
the argument that can legitimately be derived from analogous conditions
relating to the difficulties of forming the union.

A world federation, on the other hand, could have only one main
purpose, the preservation of peace. No other bonds should knit it
together except those which exist for that purpose. They would be
strong enough for the strain that would be put upon them, and no
stronger. They would be made for a specific object by persons who would
be careful that they were properly made. A federation of this kind
could not be adopted until it was approved by the authorities in the
constituent nations, which would guarantee that it did not sacrifice
the individuality of those nations. In fact, so great would be the
obstacles at this point that it is safe to say that there would be more
danger that the federation would be too weak rather than that it would
be too strong.

       *       *       *       *       *

Here ends this statement of the arguments for the only possible plan
of coöperation that will, if adopted, give the world enduring peace.
It would be easier to form a league to enforce peace by arbitration
and moral suasion than to form a federation with power sufficient
to enforce its decrees. But a league would in all probability be
flouted by the states as often as their interests seemed to them to
make it advisable. Reverting to the analogy of our own formative
period in national government, a league would be like our articles of
confederation, weak and insufficient because they did not authorize the
central government to coërce a recalcitrant state. As a step toward a
more desirable end the articles of federation were worth while: as a
similar step a league of nations might be better than nothing, but it
would not lead to the end to which the world is looking.

The idea of a federation of nations has been behind many a
philosopher’s dream. Jesus looked forward to it when he offered the
world “my peace,” and many another has held that somewhere in the
shadowy future a millennial era of super-government and peace will fall
upon the earth. It would be a great thing if at this day we could take
a step toward the realization of an ideal whose universality attests
its desirability. The “fruits of Waterloo” were lost a century ago by
a wide margin, due to the less perfect comprehension the world then had
of the advantages of federated peace. If they are lost at the end of
this war it will be by a smaller discrepancy. Some time they will be
secured, not because men have dreamed of them; but because, in such a
case at least, dreams are but “suppressed desires.”

The writer of a book can do no more than raise his voice to the people
who do things. To that large class who make things happen he can only
give impulse and hope. His cry goes to those who govern, to those who
direct the press, and to all citizens who feel responsibility for the
formation of good public opinion. If he speaks to them faithfully and
without prejudice or mere enthusiasm, he has done all he can do. The
results are on the knees of the gods.




INDEX


  Adams, John Quincy, and the Monroe Doctrine, 79.

  Agadir, 171.

  Aix-la-Chapelle, Conference of, 66.

  Albania, in the Balkan war of 1912-1913, 89, 125, 126;
    origin of, 106, 108, 121.

  Alexander I, of Russia, 155;
    his peace plans, 36, 45-63;
    his personal qualities, 46;
    his education, 46-48;
    and the Treaty of Tilsit, 49;
    eyes opened to Napoleon, 50;
    his friendship for France, 51;
    “grouped” by Castlereagh, 52;
    signs treaty of Chaumont, 52;
    enters Paris in 1814, 54;
    at Congress of Vienna, 55;
    and Poland, 56;
    and the Holy Alliance, 59-64;
    and Baroness Krüdener, 60;
    and the Conference of Aix-la-Chapelle, 66;
    at Conference at Troppau, 68-70;
    his change of policy, 70;
    and the Greek war of independence, 77;
    and a federation of nations, 263.

  Algeciras, Conference at, 168

  Alliance, the Treaty of, 65;
    the Quadruple, 65, 66, 67;
    the Quintuple, 66, 67, 68, 69, 79;
    disruption of, 69.
    See Holy Alliance.

  Alsace and Lorraine, 92.

  American Peace Society, 37.

  Armageddon, 1-5, 15.

  Austria and the Greek war of independence, 77;
    and the revolution of 1848, 86;
    and Congress of Berlin, 89, 113, 114;
    and Balkan War of 1912-1913, 89;
    and the Triple Alliance, 93;
    acquires rights in Bosnia and Herzegovina, 115;
    and the revolt in Crete, 119;
    takes over Bosnia and Herzegovina, 120;
    interest in the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 124-126, 128.
    See Metternich.

  Austria-Hungary, see Austria.

  Autocracy, an obstacle to permanent peace, 216-224;
    qualities of, 217;
    in Germany, 219, 220-222;
    in Russia, 219;
    future bearing of German finances on, 242-246.


  Balance of Power, 90;
    under Bismarck’s policy, 93;
    after Bismarck, 96;
    affected by the _Entente Cordiale_, 99;
    by the Triple _Entente_, 100, 101.

  Balance of Power, failure of the theory, 157, 162;
    breaks down in practice, 234-236.

  Balkan States, history of, 103-131;
    Turkish rule over, 104;
    spirit of nationality in, 108;
    growing power of, 119;
    a “tinder-box,” 120;
    the war against Turkey, 122-127;
    The Balkan League, 122.

  Balkan War of 1912-1913, 89.

  Belgium, and the revolution of 1830, 79.

  Bentham, Jeremy, on perpetual peace, 32-34;
    and a federation of nations, 263.

  Berlin, Congress of, 89.

  Bethman-Hollweg, and the Moroccan question, 171.

  Bismarck, builder of the German Empire, 91;
    policy towards France, 92, 93;
    and the Three Emperors’ League, 93;
    and the Triple Alliance, 93-94;
    his retirement, 95, 143;
    his German policy, 140-143;
    not for Pan-Germanism, 148;
    his foreign policy, 157.

  Boer war, Germany’s attitude in, 97, 99.

  Bosnia, 108;
    Austria acquires rights in, 115;
    taken over by Austria, 120, 121.

  Brailsford, H. N., his idea of a league of nations, 260.

  Bryce, Lord, attitude toward federated peace, 15.

  Bulgaria, origin of, 105, 106;
    its position under Turkey, 108;
    national feeling in, 109;
    at the Conference of Paris, 110;
    in the war of 1877, 113;
    “Big Bulgaria,” 114;
    acquires East Rumelia, 117;
    growing power of, 119;
    declares complete independence, 120;
    in the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 122-127.

  Bülow, Chancellor von, 171.


  Canning, George, and the Spanish Colonies, 78;
    and the Monroe Doctrine, 79;
    welcomes end of the Alliance, 83.

  Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 38.

  Cartels, compared with trusts, xiii-xvi.

  Castlereagh, Lord, 154;
    his relations with Alexander I, 51;
    and treaty of Chaumont, 52;
    goes to Paris, 55;
    his idea of the Concert of Europe, 65;
    and the Treaty of Alliance, 65-67;
    at Troppau, 68, 69;
    his relation to the Concert of Europe, 74;
    his object, 81.

  Chaumont, Treaty of, 52-53;
    Castlereagh on the application of, 69.

  “Christian Republic” of Henry IV, 24, 25.

  Concentration, laws of, in society, xii-xvi;
    progress of, 247-251.

  Concert of Europe, theory of, 49, 53, 65;
    its character, 81;
    its condition after the end of the Alliance, 84;
    and the struggle of Mehemet Ali, 85;
    and the Crimean War, 86;
    and other mid-century wars, 88;
    and Congress of Berlin, 89;
    and the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 89, 124-127;
    its new meaning, 90;
    and the revolution of the Greeks, 107;
    and the Crimean War, 110;
    defied by Moldavia and Wallachia, 111;
    and the Congress of Berlin, 114, 116;
    and Crete, 118;
    defied by Balkan League, 123;
    incompetent to deal with the situation of 1913-1914, 130;
    and the Moroccan incidents, 167-173;
    failure of, in 1914, 180-182, 201, 234-236.

  Conference of Paris, see Paris.

  Congo, French, given up, 172.

  Congress of Berlin, 89, 113.

  Congress of Vienna, disappointments of the, 55;
    cause of its failure, 58.

  Congress of London on Balkan situation, 1913, 124.

  Contract theory of the origin of the state, 232-234.

  Crete, revolt in, 118.

  Crimean War, 86, 109.

  Cuza, John, 111.

  Cyprus, handed over to Great Britain, 116.


  Debt, public, makes for federation, 238-242.

  Delcassé, Théophile, his foreign policy, 98, 100, 101, 163-168;
    and the Fashoda incident, 162;
    building up French colonial power, 163-168;
    dismissed at the demand of Germany, 167.

  Democracy, not an absolute safeguard against recurring wars, 223.

  Dual Alliance, 95, 96.

  Dueling, how abolished, 232.

  Dum-dum bullets, 3, 5.


  Economic competition as an obstacle to peace, 206-211.

  Economic laws not unchangeable, 210;
    sometimes opposed to nationality, 216.

  England, see Great Britain.

  “Entangling alliances” and a federation, 276.

  _Entente Cordiale_, The, formed, 99, 162.


  Fashoda Incident, the, 98, 162.

  Federation, definition of, 23.

  Federation of Nations, why it would now have better chance of success
          than in 1815-1818, 72-76;
    discussion, 261-264;
    why a federation is better than a league, 261-273;
    analogy with the American constitution, 267-276;
    differences pointed out, 277;
    the idea held up, 278-280;
    arguments for, 229-253.

  Ferdinand, Crown Prince of Austria, 178, 180.

  Fez, the French in, 171.

  Finances, national debts make for federation, 238-242, 275.

  France, attitude toward federated peace, 15;
    Alexander I’s friendship for, 51-53;
    and the Spanish colonies, 78;
    the revolution of 1830, 79;
    and the wars of Mehemet Ali, 85;
    and the revolution of 1848, 86;
    and the Crimean War, 86;
    War against Prussia, 188;
    in Franco-Prussian War, 91;
    later relations with Germany, 91;
    new attitude towards Great Britain, 97;
    influence of Delcassé, 98;
    and _Entente Cordiale_, 99;
    and Triple _Entente_, 100;
    and the revolution of the Greeks, 107;
    extends rule over Tunis, 116;
    in Franco-Prussian War, 141;
    military training in, 147;
    foreign policy under Delcassé, 163-168;
    in Morocco, 164, 166-173;
    gives up the Congo for Morocco, 172;
    her position after war with Prussia, 201;
    future relations with Great Britain, 250.

  Francis Joseph, of Austria, 178.

  Franco-Prussian War, 88;
    and the Balance of Power, 90.

  Franklin, Benjamin, his proposal for union, 266.

  Frederick William III and the Holy Alliance, 62.

  Freedom of the seas, 159.


  Gentz, Frederick von, on the Congress of Vienna, 55-57, 58.

  George, Lloyd, attitude toward federated peace, 15.

  Gerard, James W., xiii.

  Germany, attitude of, toward federated peace, 13;
    opposed plans of Hague Conference, 38;
    and the revolutions of 1848, 86;
    under Bismarck’s policy, 93-95;
    under his successors, 95;
    policy during the Boer War, 97;
    growing antagonism toward Great Britain, 97;
    later relations with Austria, 91;
    and Three Emperors’ League, 93;
    his influence for peace, 94, 95;
    under his successors, 94;
    attitude during the Boer War, 99;
    gets nothing at the Congress of Berlin, 117;
    and the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 125, 128;
    ideals and organization of, 132-153;
    her broken faith, 132-134;
    and Mittel-Europa, 134;
    a better Germany, 134, 136, 146-148;
    development of pernicious ideals in, 136-138;
    under the heel of Napoleon, 138;
    re-making the army of Prussia, 139;
    under Bismarck’s lead, 140-143;
    _Kultur_ of, 144;
    and Militarism, 146-148;
    the work of intellectual leaders, 148-152;
    national egotism, 153;
    peaceful attitude under Bismarck, 157;
    under Wilhelm II, 158;
    growth of manufactures, 158;
    building a navy, 159;
    growing military power of, 160;
    Pan-German hopes, 161;
    isolated by Delcassé during the Boer War, 162;
    eyes turned to Turkey, 165;
    in the Moroccan incidents, 166-173;
    attempt to win over Great Britain, 174;
    alarmed by growing power of rivals, 176;
    her plans in beginning the Great War, 177;
    short-sighted policy in war, 182, 183;
    a mild treatment after her defeat, 194, 196-202;
    economic reasons for engaging in war, 209;
    autocracy in, 219, 220-222, 224;
    parties in, 225;
    influence of munition makers, 226;
    influence of the military men, 227;
    future influences on surrounding nations, 235-240;
    future relations with Austria, 237-239;
    influences of finances, 238-242;
    autocracy threatened, 242-246;
    in a possible league of peace, 258;
    reasons for opposing, 259.
    See also Bismarck;
    see Prussia.

  _Grand Design_, of Henry IV, 24, 25.

  Great Britain, attitude toward federated peace, 15;
    attitude towards peace in the Napoleonic wars, 45;
    approached by Alexander I to establish a peace agreement, 48;
    and the Spanish American colonies, 78;
    and Turkey, 85;
    and the Crimean War, 86;
    and the Conference of Paris of 1856, 87;
    policy during Bismarck’s era, 96;
    new attitude towards Germany, 96;
    new attitude towards France, 97;
    forms the _Entente Cordiale_, 99;
    and the revolution of the Greeks, 107;
    in the Crimean War, 109;
    at the conference of Paris, 110;
    influence over Turkey, 112, 115-117;
    at Congress of Berlin, 113, 115-117;
    and Cyprus, 116;
    and Suez Canal, 116;
    in Persia, 128, 174;
    imperiled by German success, 133, 134;
    former isolation in Europe, 157;
    and the German naval program, 159;
    reënters Continental politics, 162;
    position in Egypt recognized, 166;
    supports France in third Moroccan incident, 172;
    necessary for her to enter the war, 182;
    probable course if Russia becomes aggressive, 202;
    future relations with France, 250.

  Greece and Balkan War of 1912-1913, 89.

  Greece, beginnings of modern, 107;
    the revolt against Turkey, 107;
    acquires Thessaly, 117;
    and Cretan revolution, 118;
    growing power of, 120;
    in the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 122-127.

  Greek war of independence, 77.


  Hague Conferences to promote peace, the, 37.

  Hague tribunal and the Moroccan question, 169.

  Hatred as an implement in war, 195-197.

  Hegel, his relation to the peace plans, 35;
    philosophy of war, 35, 220.

  Henry IV, his _Grand Design_, 24.

  Hertling, Chancellor von, on federated peace, 13.

  Herzegovina, 108;
    Austria acquires rights in, 115;
    taken over by Austria, 120, 121.

  Holy Alliance, 36;
    history of, 59-64;
    terms of, 61;
    discussed, 62-64;
    compared with the Treaty of Alliance, 66;
    taken up by Metternich, 72.


  Internationalism, 10-12.

  Italy, attitude toward federated peace, 15;
    wars for liberation, 88;
    and the Triple Alliance, 93;
    and her right to Tripoli, 164;
    weakened relation with the Triple Alliance, 164, 174;
    war in Tripoli, 174.


  Japan--effect of her war with Russia, 99;
    alliance with Great Britain, 100.

  Junkers, character of, 141, 145.
    See Autocracy.


  Kant, Immanuel, his plan for peace, 34;
    error in his theory, 232-234;
    and a federation of nations, 263.

  Krüdener, Baroness, 60.

  _Kultur_, discussion of, 144-146.


  La Harpe, Fréderic César de, 46, 47, 48, 50.

  League, definition of, 23.

  League of peace, probable working of, 257-261.
    See Federation of Nations.

  “League to Enforce Peace,” formed in 1915, 39.

  Lincoln, President, his way of dealing with conquered people, 195.


  Mars, his _Day_, 6, 20.

  Maryland, hesitating to accept union, 271.

  Mehemet Ali, 84-86.

  Metternich, Prince, 154, and the Holy Alliance, 62;
    and the Treaty of Alliance, 65;
    on the situation in Naples, 67;
    at Troppau, 68;
    gets support of Alexander I, 70-72;
    and the Greek war of independence, 77;
    end of his power, 83;
    his influence not existent today, 264-276.

  Military Class in Germany, influence of, 227.

  Mittel-Europa, 134, 141, 177,185;
    its strength, if established, 185;
    how to prevent its formation, 186;
    future of, 237.

  Moldavia, 105, 110;
    united with Wallachia, 111.

  Monroe Doctrine, 79.

  Montenegro, origin of, 106, 108;
    opens the Balkan War, 123;
    takes Scutari, 124, 126.

  Morocco, French rights in, 164;
    position of, 166;
    German interference in, 167-173.

  Munition makers, influence of, 226.


  Naples, revolution in, 67, 73, 76.

  Napoleon I, repressing his spirit, 18;
    hatred felt for, 43;
    and Russia in 1807, 49;
    his severe treatment of Prussia, 138-140.

  Napoleonic wars, and permanent peace, 17-21.

  Nationality, an obstacle to permanent peace, 214.

  Nicholas II, of Russia, 37.

  Novi-Bazar, sanjak of, 122.


  Obstacles to permanent peace, 205-228.


  Pan-Germanism, 148, 161;
    behind the Great War, 177-179.

  _Panther_, the, at Agadir, 171.

  Paris, conference of, 86-110;
    Declaration of, 87.

  Patriotism, false, an obstacle to peace, 211.

  Peace Societies, development of, 37.

  Penn, William, his plan for peace, 26, 32.

  Persia, occupied by Great Britain and Russia, 128, 174.

  Phillips, W. A., on the Quadruple Alliance, 67.

  Pitt, William, reception of Alexander I’s suggestions, 47, 48, 65.

  Poland, Alexander I’s support of, 56;
    revolution in, 80.

  Prussia, supported peace policy of tsar in 1815, 17;
    war against Austria, 88, 91;
    against France, 91;
    creates the German Empire, 91.
    See Germany, Holy Alliance, and Frederick William III.


  Quadruple Alliance. See Alliance.

  Quintuple Alliance. See Alliance.


  Revolutionary movement of 1830, 79-80.

  Rousseau, his plan for peace, 31, 35.

  Rumania, origin of 105, 106;
    under Russian protection, 108;
    national feeling in, 109;
    Russian protectorate abolished, 110;
    union of Moldavia and Wallachia, 111;
    in the war of 1877, 113;
    growing power of, 120;
    enters the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 127.

  Russia, recent progress of events in, 8-11;
    friendly to peace under Alexander I, 17-19, 45;
    and the Greek war of independence, 77;
    and Turkey, 84;
    in the Crimean War, 86, 109;
    and war of 1877, 88;
    and Bismarck, 93;
    and Dual Alliance with France, 95;
    effect of Russo-Japanese war, 99;
    enters Triple _Entente_, 100;
    and the revolution of the Greeks, 107;
    nourishes Balkan hopes, 109;
    at the Conference of Paris, 110;
    war against Turkey in 1877, 112;
    her hopes for a “Big Bulgaria,” 114;
    unable to aid Serbia in 1908, 121;
    and the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 126-128;
    in Persia, 128, 174;
    possible future aggression of, 202;
    autocracy in, 219;
    uncertain part in the future, 236.
    See Alexander I.


  San Stefano, treaty of, 88, 113.

  Scharnhorst, military reforms in Prussia, 140.

  Serbia, in Balkan War of 1912-1913, 89;
    origin of, 105, 106;
    desire for Bosnia and Herzegovina, 108, 115;
    national feeling in, 109;
    becomes autonomous, 108;
    in the war of 1877, 113;
    growing power of, 120;
    and Austria’s assumption of power in Bosnia and Herzegovina, 120-122;
    in the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 122-127.

  “Self-preservation, the law of,” 212.

  Shuster, Morgan W., 175.

  South, reconstruction of not a model for Germany, 194, 196-199.

  Spain, revolution in, 67, 73, 76;
    Alexander I and, 77;
    revolution of its colonies, 77, 78.

  St. Pierre, Abbé Castel de, 27-29, 263.

  Stein, Baron von, 168.

  Submarines, and the United States, 183;
    if they succeed, 184;
    if they fail, 185-204.

  Suez Canal, 116.

  Sully, Duke of, 24.


  Tariffs and obstacles to perpetual peace, 207-209.

  Three Emperors’ League, the, 93, 142, 157.

  Tilsit, Treaty of, 49.

  Treaty of Alliance, the, 65.

  Treitschke, Heinrich von, his ability, 149;
    his ideals, 150, 177;
    his influence, 151;
    his histories, 151.

  Triple Alliance formed, 93, 142, 157;
    its influence, 95, 157;
    balanced by the Triple _Entente_, 101, 102;
    weakened by Italy, 164, 174, 201.

  Triple _Entente_ formed, 100;
    its influence, 162, 173, 174.

  Tripoli, 164.

  Troppau, conference at, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, 74.

  Trusts compared with cartels xiii-xvi.

  Turkey and the Greek war of independence, 77;
    and Mehemet Ali, 84-86;
    and the Crimean War, 86;
    and war of 1877, 88;
    rule over Balkan States, 104;
    revolt of Greece against, 107;
    and Crimean war, 109-111;
    under British influence, 112;
    war of 1877, 112;
    and Crete, 118;
    and the Balkan War of 1912-1913, 122-127;
    position of in 1913, 128;
    approaching friendship with Germany, 165;
    and the war in Tripoli, 174.

  Turks, conquer Constantinople, 104;
    hold on the Balkans, 104.
    See Turkey.

  “Turks, the Young,” 123.

  Tunis, under French rule, 116, 164.


  Union, the American, as a model for a federation of nations, 265.

  United States, the, their part in the Great War, 189-193;
    constitution of, the adoption of, 267-276;
    an “experiment,” 267.
    See Union, the American.


  Venezelos, Eleutherios, 118.

  Vienna, threatened by Turks, 104.


  Wallachia, 105, 110;
    united with Moldavia, 111.

  War, the Great, the real cause of, 154-156;
    and Pan-Germanism, 177, 178, 179;
    the beginning of, 177-179;
    the changing character of, 188.

  Wilhelm I, 142;
    II, ideals of, 142;
    his part in the war, 143;
    his character, 158;
    changed German policy under, 158-160;
    lands in Tangiers, 167;
    his sons uninjured in the war, 223.

  Wilson, Woodrow, his attitude toward a federated peace, v, 12;
    address of January 22, 1917, 12;
    peace views of, 192.


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Transcriber’s note:

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
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changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

Index not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page references.

Page 5: “Mesapotamia” was printed that way.

Page 212: “insistance” was printed that way.

Page 114: “esconced” was printed that way.

Page 138: “benefitted” was printed that way.



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