1. The Rhine

M. Clemenceau, in the remarkable series of speeches delivered in the United States of America, implies a breach of faith on the part of Britain in reference to the pact to guarantee France against the possibility of German aggression. England has no better friend in the whole of France than M. Clemenceau. Throughout a strenuous but consistent career he has never varied in his friendship for England. Many a time has he been bitterly assailed for that friendship. French journalists are not sparing of innuendo against those they hate. They hate fiercely and they hit recklessly, and M. Clemenceau, a man of scrupulous integrity, at one period in his stormy political life was charged by certain organs of the Paris press with being in the pay of England. If, therefore, he now does an injustice to Britain I am convinced it is not from blind hatred of our country, but from temporary forgetfulness of the facts.

He states the facts with reference to the original pact quite fairly. It was proffered as an answer to those who claimed that the left bank of the Rhine should be annexed to France.

There was a strong party in France which urged M. Clemenceau to demand that the Rhine should be treated as the natural frontier of their country, and that advantage should be taken of the overwhelming defeat of Germany to extend the boundaries of France to that fateful river. For unknown centuries it has been fought over and across—a veritable river of blood. If French Chauvinism had achieved its purpose at the Paris conference the Rhine would within a generation once more overflow its banks and devastate Europe. The most moderate and insidious form this demand took was a proposal that the German provinces on the left bank of the Rhine should remain in French occupation until the treaty had been fulfilled. That meant for ever. Reparations alone—skilfully handled by the Quai d'Orsay—would preclude the possibility of ever witnessing fulfilment. The argument by which they supported their claim was the defencelessness of the French frontier without some natural barrier. France had been twice invaded and overrun within living memory by her formidable neighbour. The German military power was now crushed, and rich and populous provinces of the German Empire had been restored to France and Poland, but the population of Germany was still fifty per cent. greater than that of France and it was growing at an alarming rate, whilst the French population was at a standstill. German towns and villages were clamant with sturdy children.

You cannot talk long to a Frenchman without realising how this spectre of German children haunts France and intimidates her judgment. These children, it is said, are nourished on vengeance: one day the struggle will be resumed, and France has no natural defence against the avenging hordes that are now playing on German streets and with the hum of whose voices German kindergartens resound.

We were told the Rhine is the only possible line of resistance. Providence meant it to play that part, and it is only the sinister interference of statesmen who love not France that deprives Frenchmen of this security for peace which a far-seeing Nature has provided.

The fact that this involved the subjection to a foreign yoke of millions of men of German blood, history, and sympathies, and that the incorporation of so large an alien element, hostile in every fibre to French rule, would be a constant source of trouble and anxiety to the French Government, whilst it would not merely provide an incentive to Germany to renew war but would justify and dignify the attack by converting it into a war of liberation—all that had no effect on the Rhenian school of French politics.

This school is as powerful as ever. In one respect it is more powerful, for in 1919 there was a statesman at the head of affairs who had the strength as well as the sagacity to resist their ill-judged claims.

But what about 1922? Where is the foresight and where is the strength? There is a real danger that the fifteen years' occupation may on one pretext or another be indefinitely prolonged. When it comes to an end will there be a ministry in France strong enough to withdraw the troops? Before the fifteen years' occupation is terminated will there be a ministry or a series of ministries strong enough to resist the demand put forward without ceasing in the French press that the occupation should be made effective?

Upon the answer to these questions the peace of Europe—the peace of the world, perhaps the life of our civilisation—depends. The pressure to do the evil thing that will once more spill rivers of human blood is insistent. The temptation is growing, the resistance is getting feebler. America and Britain standing together can alone avert the catastrophe. But they can do so only by making it clear that the aggressor—whoever it be—will have the invincible might of these two commonwealths arrayed against any nation that threatens to embroil the world in another conflict.

There are men in Germany who preach vengeance. They must be told that a war of revenge will find the same allies side by side inflicting punishment on the peace-breakers. There are men in France who counsel annexation of territories populated by another race. They must be warned that such a step will alienate the sympathies of Britain and America, and that when the inevitable war of liberation comes the sympathies of America and Britain will be openly ranged on the side of those who are fighting for national freedom.

The time has come for saying these things, and if they are not said in high places humanity will one day call those who occupy those places to a reckoning.

The pact was designed to strengthen the hands of M. Clemenceau against the aggressive party which was then and still is anxious to commit France to the colossal error of annexing territory which has always been purely German.

M. Clemenceau knows full well that Britain has been ready any time during the last three years up to a few months ago to take upon herself the burden of that pact with or without the United States of America. At Cannes early this year I made a definite proposal to that effect. It was a written offer made by me on behalf of the British government to M. Briand, who was then prime minister of France.

I was anxious to secure the co-operation of France in a general endeavour to clear up the European situation and establish a real peace from the Urals to the Atlantic seaboard. French suspicions and French apprehensions constituted a serious difficulty in the way of settlement, and I thought that if it were made clear to France that the whole strength of the British Empire could be depended upon to come to her aid in the event of threatened invasion French opinion would be in a better mood to discuss the outstanding questions which agitate Europe.

International goodwill is essential to the re-establishment of the shattered machinery of international commerce. With a great country like France, to which the issue of the war had given a towering position on the continent of Europe, in a condition of fretfulness, it was impossible to settle Europe.

Hence the offer which was made by the British government. M. Briand was prepared to welcome this offer and to proceed to a calm consideration of the perplexities of the European situation. It was agreed to summon a conference at Genoa to discuss the condition of European exchange, credit and trade. It was also resolved that an effort should be made to establish peace with Russia and to bring that great country once more inside the community of nations. A great start was made on the path of genuine appeasement. The German Government were invited to send their chief Minister to the Cannes conference in order to arrive at a workable settlement of the vexed question of reparations. The invitation received a prompt response, and Dr. Rathenau, accompanied by two or three leading ministers and a retinue of financial experts, reached Cannes in time to take part in the discussions.

The negotiations were proceeding helpfully, and another week might have produced results which would have pacified the tumult of suspicious nations and inaugurated the promise of fraternity. But, alas, Satan is not done with Europe. A ministerial crisis in France brought our hopes tumbling to the ground. The conference was broken up on the threshold of fulfilment.

Suspicion once more seized the tiller, and Europe, just as she seemed to be entering the harbour of goodwill, was swung back violently into the broken seas of international distrust. The offer made by Britain to stand alone on the pact of guarantee to France was rejected with disdain. We were told quite brutally that it was no use without a military convention. This we declined to enter into. Europe has suffered too much from military conventions to warrant the repetition of such a disastrous experiment.

The pact with Britain lies for the moment in the waste-paper basket. But we never flung it there. M. Clemenceau ought to have made his complaint in Paris against men of his own race and not in New York against Englishmen. With the pact went the effort to make peace in Europe.

The history of Genoa is too recent to require any recapitulation of its features. The new French ministry did not play the part of an inviting government responsible for pressing to a successful end the objects of Cannes, but rather that of the captious critic who had to be persuaded along every inch of the road and who threatened at every obstacle to turn back and leave the rest of Europe to struggle along with its burden, amid the mocking laughter of France.

I am not complaining of M. Barthou. He did his best under most humiliating conditions to remain loyal to the conference which his government had joined in summoning. But his task was an impossible one. He was hampered, embarrassed and tangled at every turn. Whenever he took any step forward he was lassoed by a despatch from Paris. I have good authority for stating that he received over eight hundred of these communications in the course of the conference!

What could the poor man do under such bewildering conditions? The other European countries were perplexed and distracted. They were anxious that Genoa should end in a stable peace. There was no doubt about the sincerity, the passionate sincerity, of the desire for peace throughout Europe, but European nations could not help seeing that one of the great powers was working for a failure. They had a natural anxiety not to appear to take sides.

It is a marvel that in spite of this unfortunate attitude adopted by the French Government a pact was signed which has, at any rate, preserved the peace in Eastern Europe for several months.

Before the conference we heard of armies being strengthened along frontiers and of movements of troops with a menacing intent from the Baltic to the Black Sea. Genoa at least dispelled that cloud. But a permanent peace has not yet been established and the pact with Russia will soon expire. I am, however, hopeful that the spirit of Genoa will stand between contending armies and prevent the clash of swords.

All this, however, is leading me away from an examination of M. Clemenceau's suggestion that Britain did not keep faith in the matter of guaranteeing France against German aggression.

The offer was definitely renewed at Cannes, and M. PoincarÉ has not accepted it.

I have my own opinion as to why he has not done so. It is not merely that he does not wish to set the seal of his approval upon a predecessor's achievement. I am afraid the reason is of a more sinister kind. If France accepts Britain's guarantee of defence of her frontier every excuse for annexing the left bank of the Rhine disappears.

If this is the explanation, if French ministers have made up their minds that under no conditions will they, even at the end of the period of occupation, withdraw from the Rhine, then a new chapter opens in the history of Europe and the world, with a climax of horror such as mankind has never yet witnessed.

The German provinces on the left bank of the Rhine are intensely German—in race, language, tradition and sympathies. There are seventy millions of Germans in Europe. A generation hence there may be a hundred millions. They will never rest content so long as millions of their fellow-countrymen are under a foreign yoke on the other side of the Rhine, and it will only be a question of time and opportunity for the inevitable war of liberation to begin.

We know what the last war was like. No one can foretell the terrors of the next. The march of science is inexorable, and wherever it goes it is at the bidding of men, whether to build or to destroy. Is it too much to ask that America should, in time, take an effective interest in the development along the Rhine? To that extent I am in complete accord with M. Clemenceau. Neither Britain nor America can afford to ignore the manoeuvres going on along its banks. It is a far cry from the Rhine to the Mississippi, but not so far as it used to be.

There are now graves not far from the Rhine wherein lies the dust of men who, less than six years ago, came from the banks of the Mississippi, with their faces towards the Rhine.

London, December 2nd, 1922.