February 7th

Should they ever fall into critical hands, I owe an explanation of how and why these diaries and these much-too-copious memoranda were scribbled by one who, before the great catastrophe overtook us, was completely immune to the diary contagion. For my deplorable activity I offer this word of explanation. It was enforced—not voluntary. From the first days of our collaboration, which began with the

Armistice negotiations, at his request I made full reports on the situation as I saw it to Colonel House, and also reports on the attitude of the press, and at times condensations of the views of the Colonel’s fellow negotiators obtained by personal contacts with them or with their advisers. At times, I may add, special investigations on contentious points were entrusted to me.

The Colonel approved of this method of work, but as the situation became more complicated, and memoranda and reports from many sources were showered upon him as fell the leaves of Vallambrosa, he asked me, except in special cases, to make my reports verbally. This, he thought, would save me from the labor of much writing, would spare his eyes from the task of constant reading, and also would afford him an opportunity to question me on angles of the questions in regard to which he might want fuller details than those I gave him. This change of method was most agreeable to me, but, as is not seldom the case when you think everything has been comfortably arranged, difficulties and objections began to develop. The field I had to survey was very extensive; it did not merely run from Dan to Beersheba! Continents were involved and scores of nations were demanding their day in court. Not seldom when I was ready to place before my chief in writing, or, if he preferred, verbally, the mass of information that I had so painfully acquired, the spotlight of the Conference would be shifted to another quarter of the globe and to another national or perhaps international problem. What was I to do with all this encyclopedic knowledge and technical information? Of course I had to conserve it against the day when, surely, this postponed question would pop up on the agenda again. It did not seem wise, and it was probably impossible to carry all this information in my small head, and so I fell into the habit of jotting down memos in a shorthand which no one but myself could read, and out of these entries grew the many-volumed diary, written with soft pencil and with a want of clearness which was designed to baffle the spies with whom so many thought the Hotel Crillon was infested. However distressing the aftermath may be to those who, like myself, are compelled to read this diary, it was a wise move. When the negotiators returned from excursions far afield to the problem they had dropped weeks before, I could confront my chief with fairly authentic notes and was not compelled to rely exclusively upon my fallible memory.

This reservoir of information helped me in many difficult moments, and I sometimes hope that it will prove of value and of interest at a later day, when many of the dark shadows which we thought had been exorcised from the face of the world return, as return they may. And it may be wise for me to extend my confession a little farther and to let in a little more light on my modus operandi. A careful reading will reveal that there are gaps in my diary, and I hope to disarm criticism by frankly admitting that I do not pretend to present to possible readers a complete narrative. Many things happened at the Conference in which I was not personally involved, even in my subordinate capacity, and as to which I cannot claim to have firsthand knowledge. To fill out these gaps, it has been frequently suggested to me that I should consult the House Papers, now available to students in the Sterling Library at Yale, and perhaps also the memoirs of other participants, and indeed all other source material. I have not followed these suggestions, for a reason which seems good and sufficient to me. The only value that I can claim for my testimony as to what happened at the Great Assizes is that it is a personal record of things seen and of words heard. It is not a rounded historical narrative, but the personal testimony of one who viewed the scene as he believes without bias and without favor and certainly from a point of vantage. The complete history of the crucial events that took place in Paris in 1919 is a task that awaits some future historian. To him, perhaps, these fragmentary notes may prove of value. Checked by the reports and testimony of others, they may prove helpful in placing before a future generation a true picture of a most critical moment in world history, which certainly tried men’s souls. There is consolation in the thought that possibly future generations may profit by our mistakes.

* * *

Baron Makino (Japan) told the Colonel yesterday that he had been instructed by Tokyo to bring before the Commission a proposal to recognize race equality in the Covenant, preferably in the Preamble, and that he had been instructed to press for its adoption. House has done what he could to convince the baron that this course will prove anything but helpful to the purpose of his government, of which he personally approves. Having failed in this, the Colonel has drawn up several drafts which he hopes will satisfy the Japanese without making little Hughes of Australia put on his war paint. One of these, in a personal and off-the-record visit from Balfour, he submitted to him. The draft was rather reminiscent of our Declaration of Independence. “All men are born free and equal. . . .” Balfour listened but said, “I think this idea is outmoded. All men of one particular nation are born free and equal, but I am far from convinced that a man from Central Africa could be regarded as the equal of a European or an American.” House insisted that the time had come when the policy of excluding Japanese from almost all the world’s surface must be stopped or at the least curtailed; “Japan is a great and growing nation. Their people are confined to small, crowded islands and, shut out by all, they have no place to go.” Balfour said he sympathized with the Japanese and would do all he could to advance a practicable solution of the problem, “but Hughes will not admit thenrto Australia and if I am not mistaken your people in California are opposed to even limited immigration. We shall have to look elsewhere—some place farther afield.”

House suggested Brazil, and they both agreed to speak to President Pessoa on the subject. And they did, but he gave them no encouragement: “We have all the race questions that we can manage now,” he stated. “The bars are not up against the Japanese as yet, but they would be put up if they came in any numbers. It would be better for all concerned if they did not come.”¹

On the day following the Portuguese delegate served on me a brief memorandum of the remarks he would have made at the Plenary Session (on January 28th) had not, he asserted, the opportunity of speaking been withheld. It pointed out that the great Treaty of Versailles in 1783, in which the United States had been so vitally concerned, was introduced with the announcement, “Au nom de la Très Sainte et Indivisible Trinité, Père, Fils et Saint Esprit [There shall be a Christian Peace, universal and perpetual, on land and sea]. Ainsi soit-il. Even as late as the assemblage of the powers at Berlin in 1878 the delegates pledged themselves “Au nom de Dieu Tout-Puissant.” The Portuguese delegate has gloomy forebodings as to the consequences of the omission of all mention of the Deity in our World Charter which he deplores. I think I rehabilitated President Wilson in his estimation by showing to him our President’s original draft of the Covenant which included a religious clause.

This was a field day or rather night at the Peace table, and for once General Smuts, as chairman of the committee charged with the difficult task of drawing up the mandate provisions of the Covenant, held the center of the stage, and the general opinion is, including the President’s, that he performed his job superbly. Hitherto Smuts has spoken almost as rarely as House. His best work was done in the committees and in missionary work with recalcitrant delegates when he could play what our Texas Colonel called a “lone hand,” an activity in which he, too, excelled.

I do not think the Peace table and those who sat around it has ever been quite so excited. Smuts had been working on the project for more than a month, and the rumor was widespread, and generally credited, that the committee was split wide open and that Smuts had gotten nowhere with his darling project. Nobody knew what the draft would contain; but based on rumor and gossip all the delegates had before them on the table amendments which they thought were vital and which they intended to propose. All the capitals of the world were keenly alive to the importance of the moment, and the foreign offices were sending interminable cables of instructions to their bewildered agents. The mandate provision is not only important in itself but as I thought a signpost and a warning as to what will be the reception of other and even more important articles, if that is possible. I had prepared myself to take notes, no stenographers being present, and I think mine is almost a verbatim report of what was said and what was done.

After reading the proposed article, dealing with mandates (it was listened to in what seemed to me to be an ominous silence), the President called upon Smuts to take the floor. Blushing profusely, the South African opened his speech of explanation and apology in a very modest strain. And if this was tactics it was very wise.

“It is true,” he began, “that I present this article to your careful and, I hope, prayerful consideration, with some misgiving, because I would be less than frank if I did not tell you that I am ashamed of it; and, as I have abundant reason to know, all the gentlemen who worked with me upon it, each and every one of them, are also disappointed at the result of our labors. But do not misunderstand me; distressing to our pride as is this confession and falling far short, as does our plan, of the objective which we hoped to attain, the article that we place before you is the best we can do now. In this belief we are all united.

“For the last month we have worked over the provisions of the article, the mandate problem, day and night; we have weighed every sentence, every word, indeed I may say every letter because we were of the opinion that, if we succeeded, it would be the cornerstone of a new and a better world procedure. The result, as you will readily see, is far from admirable, it is not grammatical, and it is anything but coherent, and yet let me warn you, it is the best that we can do, that any of us can do at this moment. We admit that we have lopped off an improving provision here and struck out or stuck in, in the most confusing manner, a safeguard here or there. We admit that the original purpose with which we set out upon our task is not easily recognizable, but upon patient scrutiny you will find that it is there and that while it may not be an ideal solution, it is, I can assure you, the best that your delegates will agree to at this juncture in world history.

“If you give your sanction to our work you will demonstrate that world public opinion is in favor of the ultimate self-government of, all peoples, without distinction as to race, religion, or color, or previous condition of servitude. It also provides for a careful supervision and scrutiny as to the way in which the mandates are exercised and how the officers who shall be responsible for this great task are to be appointed by the Council (of the League). The power and also the responsibility remains with you. . . .

“I shall conclude as I began: the article we now submit to you is a poor production. Upon that point the members of the Committee are unanimous. But we submit it does stand for the two great cardinal principles which I have outlined. We are ashamed that we have done no better, but one virtue at least we have. We know our limitations and we frankly admit them. What we offer is not the cornerstone of a new era but we hope it is the opening wedge that if pushed will open wide a door to better things. A year hence, when the world has enjoyed a breathing spell and men less war-crazed have taken our places, I believe, and so do all my colleagues, that it will be possible to improve our plan, to convert it into something of which we can all be proud. These are my hopes, and they are shared by all my colleagues. If you approve we think that the system we have devised will help to maintain and to extend our civilization in those regions where today it is weakest.

“Now I shall close on a word of warning, based on the knowledge which has come to me as the result of many a long, weary, and at times bitter discussion in the committee. You will see many things you would like to change—just as I do, but I beg of you if our plan is pointed in the right direction, let it stand. It is not as responsive to your ideals, or to mine, as we had all hoped to make it, but hold your hand, restrain your natural disappointment, for if our edifice, poor as it is, is touched, I firmly believe it will fall to the ground, not to be raised again I fear in your day and mine.”

Smuts’s manly confession and frank warning against permitting the Committee battles to be fought over again in the Commission won out, and the mandate provisions on both the first and second readings were accepted, rather than approved without any substantial changes. “If you pull out a single plank,” said Smuts in a quite audible aside to Makino, “the whole edifice, miserable as it is, will come crashing down.”

It was a great triumph for Smuts, and the President quite visibly was pleased. He is not so insistent now upon details as he was a few weeks ago. He is pinning his faith to the cooling-off influences of time and the interpretive work of the League, as the war scenes and the animosities born of them recede and fade from memory.