March 28, 1919

The last ten have been crucial days and at times the outlook for the long-sought world settlement has been none too bright. It is most unfortunate that the French and the Italian delegates should be so well informed as to Wilson’s increasing difficulties with the Senate and the insistent, indeed the imperative demand that has been served on him in Washington as to the necessity of making a hard and fast reservation in regard to the Monroe Doctrine. At times it has looked as though the Isolationists, far from awaiting the ratification battle at home, have succeeded in choking the Covenant while still in the cradle over here. At the very first meeting of the chief delegates after Wilson’s return to Paris (March 14), as is his habit the Tiger placed his cards face up on the table. He told his listeners, who simulated surprise, that unless he secured some hold on the Saar and at least a fairly defensible position on the Rhine he did not think he could present the Treaty for ratification and that if he did he was quite certain that in its present mood the Senate and the Chamber would not ratify it.

The issue was now clearly defined, as Lloyd George and the President were in agreement that they could not accept either the Foch or the Tardieu plan for a solution of these problems. While they differ as to terms, both of these plans aim at a permanent occupation of these frontier districts by Allied forces, a commitment which neither Britain nor America is willing to assume.

It looked as though a stalemate was impending and it must be admitted that it was the resourceful little Welshman who broke it. First he sounded out House with, “I confess I find it natural and even reasonable that France should ask for protective guarantees; in the last fifty years she has been twice invaded by Germany, and it is clear to me why she has been attacked. France is the guardian of democratic civilization on the Continent; she is our bulwark against Central European autocracy.” When this had sunk in, George continued, “Until the League has proved its strength we must stand by France in case of invasion and we must make public announcement of our decision in this regard.”

Whatever his real feelings may have been, for some days Clemenceau demurred and talked of counter, more concrete, proposals. Finally, however, he weakened somewhat but insisted upon the temporary occupation of the Rhine bridgeheads by Allied troops, “until the League is seasoned—until it has proved its metal.” This is the genesis, in a few words, of the Rhine agreement about which much ink is being spilled and many ponderous tomes are bound to be written.¹ As none of the parties to it are jubilant, it is probably an excellent settlement. In any event, the deadlock is broken and the other problems will now be taken up. Grudgingly rather than enthusiastically Clemenceau admits that with this guarantee he can steer the Treaty through the chambers, but he asks House, “Can George and Wilson get it through their parliaments?” Clemenceau is well aware how reluctant these bodies are to overseas commitments and responsibilities to be automatically assumed at some future time under circumstances which no one can foresee. House reassures him. He is confident that once the President takes the stump and explains his difficulties and his purpose the American people will stand behind him enthusiastically.

[Under these circumstances, which were clearly beyond his control, the President signed the Rhine agreement. But in view of the hostile reception that the treaty received on its publication in America, he delayed presenting the protocol of the agreement to the Senate. His failure to do so released Britain from its adherence to the agreement, which it only consented to assume in case the resulting responsibility was also shouldered by America. This is the basis of Franklin Bouillon’s claim that the ratification of the treaty by the Chamber was secured through misleading and even false representations. To me and to others Clemenceau flatly denied that this was the case. He stated that both before and when signing the protocol, Wilson had told him that the agreement would require the sanction of the Senate; that he hoped to obtain this but could not guarantee it.

In July, 1920, in Paris, I discussed the matter with M. Tardieu and he confirmed the information and the impressions I have given above. “Of course the charges of bad faith against Wilson made in some of our papers are absurd and absolutely without foundation, but the unfortunate fact remains that France is left ‘holding the bag.’ I am not so sure of the good faith of Lloyd George. Why should he have made the assistance of Britain contingent upon the ratification of the pact by Washington? I think that at the time he felt this would be regarded as an entangling alliance by many of your senators, and in consequence be rejected. He saw to it that in this event Britain would be free to act or to stand aside, as she desired. The result is, we think, that the way is left open for future aggressions on the part of Germany. I trust we are mistaken, but we must prepare for such an eventuality, and of course that is a heavy burden on our financial resources and a lamentable conclusion to our war effort. As I recall the circumstances—correct me if I am mistaken— we met in Paris in 1919 to liberate the world from economic burdens as well as from the fear of the Barbarians.” Tardieu is distressed and bitterly disappointed at the resulting situation, but he at least does not misrepresent how it came about, as do so many of his countrymen, and some of our own people. “We knew exactly what we were doing,” he added. “Clemenceau thought, we all thought, that we should have the Rhineland to safeguard us from invasion. When Britain and America refused this safeguard, we accepted all we could get; that is, the pledge of assistance in case of invasion. We knew that such a pledge required parliamentary sanction in both countries, and while I fear we have been left ‘holding the bag,’ as you say in America, we were not hoodwinked.”]