The Lost Fruits of Waterloo

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.