Woodrow Wilson and the World War Part 1

Woodrow Wilson and the World War.

by Charles Seymour.

CHAPTER I

WILSON THE EXECUTIVE

When, on March 4, 1913, Woodrow Wilson entered the White House, the first Democratic president elected in twenty years, no one could have guessed the importance of the role which he was destined to play. While business men and industrial leaders bewailed the mischance that had brought into power a man whose att.i.tude towards vested interests was reputed none too friendly, they looked upon him as a temporary inconvenience. Nor did the increasingly large body of independent voters, disgusted by the "stand-pattism" of the Republican machine, regard Wilson much more seriously; rather did they place their confidence in a reinvigoration of the Grand Old Party through the progressive leaders.h.i.+p of Roosevelt, whose enthusiasm and practical vision had attracted the approval of more than four million voters in the preceding election, despite his lack of an adequate political organization. Even those who supported Wilson most whole-heartedly believed that his work would lie entirely within the field of domestic reform; little did they imagine that he would play a part in world affairs larger than had fallen to any citizen of the United States since the birth of the country.

The new President was fifty-six years old. His background was primarily academic, a fact which, together with his Scotch-Irish ancestry, the Presbyterian tradition of his family, and his early years spent in the South, explains much in his character at the time when he entered upon the general political stage. After graduating from Princeton in 1879, where his career gave little indication of extraordinary promise, he studied law, and for a time his s.h.i.+ngle hung out in Atlanta. He seemed unfitted by nature, however, for either pleasure or success in the practice of the law. Reserved and cold, except with his intimates, he was incapable of attracting clients in a profession and locality where ability to "mix" was a prime qualification. A certain lack of tolerance for the failings of his fellow mortals may have combined with his Presbyterian conscience to disgust him with the hard give-and-take of the struggling lawyer's life. He sought escape in graduate work in history and politics at Johns Hopkins, where, in 1886, he received his Ph.D. for a thesis ent.i.tled _Congressional Government_, a study remarkable for clear thinking and felicitous expression. These qualities characterized his work as a professor at Bryn Mawr and Wesleyan and paved his path to an appointment on the Princeton faculty in 1890, as Professor of Jurisprudence and Politics.

Despite his early distaste to the career of practicing lawyer, Wilson was by no means the man to bury himself in academic research. He lacked the scrupulous patience and the willingness to submerge his own personality which are characteristic of the scientific scholar. His gift was for generalization, and his writings were marked by clarity of thought and wealth of phrase, rather than by profundity. But such qualities brought him remarkable success as a lecturer and essayist, and constant practice gave him a fluency, a vocal control, and a power of verbal expression which a.s.sured distinction at the frequent public meetings and dinners where he was called upon to speak. Professional interest in the science of government furnished him with topics of far wider import than the ordinary pedagogue cares to handle, and he became, even as professor, well known outside of Princeton. His influence, already broad in the educational and not without some recognition in the political world, was extended in 1902, when he was chosen President of the University.

During the succeeding eight years Wilson enjoyed his first taste of executive power, and certain traits which he then displayed deserve brief notice. Although a "conservative" in his advocacy of the maintenance of the old-time curriculum, based upon the ancient languages and mathematics, and in his opposition to the free elective system, he proved an inflexible reformer as regards methods of instruction, the efficiency of which he was determined to establish. He showed a ruthless resolution to eliminate what he looked upon as undemocratic social habits among the undergraduates, and did not hesitate to cut loose from tradition, regardless of the prejudice thereby aroused against him. As an executive he evoked intense admiration and virulent dislike; the Board of Trustees and the alumni body were alike divided between enthusiastic support and bitter anathematization of the measures he proposed. What seems obvious is that many graduates sympathized with his purposes but were alienated by his methods. His strength lay chiefly in the force of his appeal to democratic sentiment; his weakness in complete inability to conciliate opponents.

At the moment when the issue of the struggle at Princeton was still undecided, opportunity was given Wilson to enter political life; an ambition for such a career had evidently stirred him in early days and was doubtless resuscitated by his success as a public speaker. While President of Princeton he had frequently touched upon public issues, and so early as 1906 Colonel George Harvey had mentioned him as a possible President of the United States. From that time he was often considered as available for political office, and in 1910, with New Jersey stirred by a strong popular movement against boss-rule, he was tendered the nomination for Governor of that State. He accepted and proved an ideal candidate.

Though supported by the Democratic machine, which planned to elect a reformer and then control him, Wilson won the adherence of independents and progressive Republicans by his promise to break the power of the boss system, and by the clarity of his plans for reform. His appeals to the spirit of democracy and morality, while they voiced nothing new in an electoral campaign, rang with unusual strength and sincerity. The State, which had gone Republican by eighty-two thousand two years before, now elected Wilson its Governor by a plurality of forty-nine thousand.

He retained office in New Jersey for only two years. During that period he achieved a high degree of success. Had he served longer it is impossible to say what might have been his ultimate position, for as at Princeton, elements of opposition had begun to coalesce against him and he had found no means to disarm them. As Governor, he at once declared himself head of the party and by a display of firm activity dominated the machine. The Democratic boss, Senator James Smith, was sternly enjoined from seeking reelection to the Senate, and when, in defiance of promises and the wish of the voters as expressed at the primaries, he attempted to run, Wilson entered the lists and so influenced public opinion and the Legislature that the head of the machine received only four votes. Attempts of the Democratic machine to combine with the Republicans, in order to nullify the reforms which Wilson had promised in his campaign, proved equally futile. With strong popular support, constantly exercising his influence both in party conferences and on the Legislature, the Governor was able to translate into law the most important of the measures demanded by the progressives. He himself summed up the essence of the situation when he said: "The moment the forces in New Jersey that had resisted reform realized that the people were backing new men who meant what they had said, they realized that they dare not resist them. It was not the personal force of the new officials; it was the moral strength of their backing that accomplished the extraordinary result." Supreme confidence in the force of public opinion exerted by the common man characterizes much of Wilson's political philosophy, and the position in the world which he was to enjoy for some months towards the end of the war rested upon the same basis.

In 1912 came the presidential election. The split in the Republican forces promised if it did not absolutely guarantee the election of a Democrat, and when the party convention met at Baltimore in June, excitement was more than ordinarily intense. The conservative elements in the party were divided. The radicals looked to Bryan for leaders.h.i.+p, although his nomination seemed out of the question. Wilson had stamped himself as an anti-machine progressive, and if the machine conservatives threatened he might hope for support from the Nebraskan orator. From the first the real contest appeared to be between Wilson and Champ Clark, who although hardly a conservative, was backed for the moment by the machine leaders. The deciding power was in Bryan's hand, and as the strife between conservatives and radicals waxed hot, he turned to the support of Wilson. On the forty-sixth ballot Wilson was nominated. With division in the Republican ranks, with his record in New Jersey for legislative accomplishment, and winning many independent votes through a succession of effective campaign speeches, Wilson more than fulfilled the highest of Democratic hopes. He received on election day only a minority of all the votes cast, but his majority in the electoral college was overwhelming.

The personality of an American President has seldom undergone so much a.n.a.lysis with such unsatisfactory results; almost every discussion of Wilson's characteristics leads to the generation of heat rather than light. Indeed the historian of the future may ask whether it is as important, in this age of democracy, to know exactly what sort of man he was as to know what the people thought he was. And yet in the case of a statesman who was to play a role of supreme importance in the affairs of the country and the world, it is perhaps more than a matter of merely personal interest to underline his salient traits. Let it be premised that a logical and satisfactory a.n.a.lysis is well-nigh impossible, for his nature is self-contradictory, subject to gusts of temperament, and he himself has pictured the struggle that has gone on between the impulsive Irish and the cautious Scotch elements in him. Thus it is that he has handled similar problems in different ways at different times, and has produced upon different persons diametrically opposed impressions.

As an executive, perhaps his most notable characteristic is the will to dominate. This does not mean that he is the egocentric autocrat pictured by his opponents, for in conference he is apt to be tolerant of the opinions of others, by no means dictatorial in manner, and apparently anxious to obtain facts on both sides of the argument. An unfriendly critic, Mr. E. J. Dillon, has said of him at Paris that "he was a very good listener, an intelligent questioner, and amenable to argument whenever he felt free to give practical effect to his conclusions."

Similar evidence has been offered by members of his Cabinet. But unquestionably, in reaching a conclusion he resents pressure and he permits no one to make up his mind for him; he is, said the German Amba.s.sador, "a recluse and lonely worker." One of his enthusiastic admirers has written: "Once in possession of every fact in the case, the President withdraws, commences the business of consideration, comparison, and a.s.sessment, and then emerges with a decision." From such a decision it is difficult to shake him and continued opposition serves merely to stiffen his resolution. Wherever the responsibility is his, he insists upon the finality of his judgment. Those who have worked with him have remarked upon his eagerness, once he has decided a course of action, to carry it into practical effect. The President of the Czecho-Slovak Republic, Thomas G. Masaryk, said that of all the men he had met, "your visionary, idealistic President is by far and away the most intensely practical." One of the Big Four at Paris remarked: "Wilson works. The rest of us play, comparatively speaking. We Europeans can't keep up with a man who travels a straight path with such a swift stride, never looking to right or left." But with all his eagerness for practical effect he is notably less efficient in the execution than in the formation of policies.

Wilson lacks, furthermore, the power of quick decision which is apt to characterize the masterful executive. He is slow to make up his mind, a trait that results partly, perhaps, from his Scotch blood and partly from his academic training. Except for his steadfast adherence to what he regards as basic principles, he might rightly be termed an opportunist.

For he is p.r.o.ne to temporize, anxious to prevent an issue from approaching a crisis, evidently in the hope that something may "turn up" to improve the situation and obviate the necessity of conflict. "Watchful waiting" in the Mexican crises and his att.i.tude towards the belligerents during the first two years of the European war are cases in point. There are instances of impulsive action on his part, when he has not waited for advice or troubled to acquire exact knowledge of the facts underlying a situation, but such occasions have been infrequent.

Wilson's dislike of advice has been widely advertized. It is probably closer to the truth to say that he is naturally suspicious of advisers unless he is certain that their basic point of view is the same as his own. This is quite different from saying that he wants only opinions that coincide with his own and that he immediately dispenses with advisers who disagree with him. Colonel House, for example, who for five years exerted constant influence on his policy, frequently advanced opinions quite at variance from those of the President, but such differences did not weaken House's influence inasmuch as Wilson felt that they were both starting from the same angle towards the same point. Prejudiced though he seemed to be against "financiers," Wilson took the opinions of Thomas W. Lamont at Paris, because the underlying object of both, the acquisition of a secure peace, was identical. It is true, however, that with the exception of Colonel House, Wilson's advisers have been in the main purveyors of facts rather than colleagues in the formation of policies. Wilson has generally been anxious to receive facts which might help him to build his policy, as will be attested by those who worked with him at Paris.[1] But he was less interested in the opinions of his advisers, especially when it came to principles and not details, for he decides principles for himself. In this sense his Cabinet was composed of subordinates rather than counselors. Such an att.i.tude is, of course, characteristic of most modern executives and has been intensified by war conditions. The summary disregard of Lansing, shown by Wilson at Paris, was less striking than the snubbing of Balfour by Lloyd George, or the cold brutality with which Clemenceau treated the other French delegates.

[Footnote 1: Mr. Lamont says of the President at Paris: "I never saw a man more ready and anxious to consult than he.... President Wilson did not have a well-organized secretarial staff. He did far too much of the work himself, studying until late at night papers and doc.u.ments that he should have largely delegated to some discreet aides. He was by all odds, the hardest worked man at the Conference; but the failure to delegate more of his work was not due to any inherent distrust that he had of men--and certainly not to any desire to 'run the whole show' himself--but simply to the lack of facility in knowing how to delegate work on a large scale. In execution we all have a blind spot in some part of our eye.

President Wilson's was in his inability to use men; an inability, mind you, not a refusal. On the contrary, when any of us volunteered or insisted upon taking responsibility off his shoulders he was delighted."]

General conviction of Wilson's autocratic nature has been intensified by his choice of a.s.sistants, who have not as a rule enjoyed public confidence. He debarred himself from success in the matter of appointments, in the first place, by limiting his range of choice through unwillingness to have about him those who did not share his point of view. It is more epigrammatic than exact to say that he was the sole unit in the Government giving value to a row of ciphers, for his Cabinet, as a whole, was not composed of weak men. But the fact that the members of his Cabinet accepted implicitly his firm creed that the Cabinet ought to be an executive and not a political council, that it depended upon the President's policy, and that its main function should be merely to carry that policy into effect, gave to the public some justification for its belief that Wilson's was a "one-man" Government. This belief was further intensified by the President's extreme sensitiveness to hostile criticism, which more than anything else hindered frank interchange of opinion between himself and strong personalities. On more than one occasion he seemed to regard opposition as tantamount to personal hostility, an att.i.tude which at times was not entirely unjustified. In the matter of minor appointments Wilson failed generally of success because he consistently refused to take a personal interest, leaving them to subordinates and admitting that political necessities must go far to determine the choice. Even in such an important problem as the appointment of the Peace Commission the President seems to have made his selection almost at haphazard. Many of his war appointments proved ultimately to be wise. But it is noteworthy that such men as Garfield, Baruch, and McCormick, who amply justified their choice, were appointed because Wilson knew personally their capacity and not because of previous success along special lines which would ent.i.tle them to public confidence.

The obstinacy of the President has become proverbial. The square chin, unconsciously protruded in argument, indicates definitely his capacity, as a British critic has put it, "to dig his toes in and hold on." On matters of method, however, where a basic principle is not involved, he is flexible. According as you approve or disapprove of him, he is "capable of development" or "inconsistent." Thus he completely changed front on the question of preparedness from 1914 to 1916. When the question of the initiative and referendum arose in Oregon, his att.i.tude was the reverse of what it had been as professor of politics. When matters of detail are under discussion, he has displayed much willingness for and some skill in compromise, as was abundantly ill.u.s.trated at Paris.

But when he thinks that a principle is at stake, he prefers to accept any consequences, no matter how disastrous to his policy; witness his refusal to accept the Lodge reservation on Article X of the League Covenant.

All those included within the small circle of Wilson's intimates attest the charm and magnetism of his personality. The breadth of his reading is reflected in his conversation, which is enlivened by anecdotes that ill.u.s.trate his points effectively and illumined by a sense of humor which some of his friends regard as his most salient trait. His manner is marked by extreme courtesy and, in view of the fixity of his opinions, a surprising lack of abruptness or dogmatism. But he has never been able to capitalize such personal advantages in his political relations. Apart from his intimates he is shy and reserved. The ant.i.thesis of Roosevelt, who loved to meet new individualities, Wilson has the college professor's shrinking from social contacts, and is not at ease in the presence of those with whom he is not familiar. Naturally, therefore, he lacks completely Roosevelt's capacity to make friends, and there is in him no trace of his predecessor's power to find exactly the right compliment for the right person. Under Roosevelt the White House opened its doors to every one who could bring the President anything of interest, whether in the field of science, literature, politics, or sport; and the Chief Magistrate, no matter who his guest, instantly found a common ground for discussion. That capacity Wilson did not possess. Furthermore his health was precarious and he was physically incapable of carrying the burden of the constant interviews that characterized the life of his immediate predecessors in the presidential office. He lived the life of a recluse and rarely received any one but friends of the family at the White House dinner table.

While he thus saved himself from the social intercourse which for Roosevelt was a relaxation but which for him would have proved a nervous and physical drain, Wilson deprived himself of the political advantages that might have been derived from more extensive hospitality. He was unable to influence Congressmen except by reason of his authority as head of the party or nation. He lost many a chance of removing political opposition through the personal appeal which is so flattering and effective. He seems to have thought that if his policy was right in itself, Congressmen ought to vote for it, without the satisfaction of personal arguments, a singular misappreciation of human nature. The same was true of his relations with the Was.h.i.+ngton correspondents; he was never able to establish a man to man basis of intercourse. This incapacity in the vital matter of human contacts was, perhaps, his greatest political weakness. If he had been able to arouse warm personal devotion in his followers, if he could have inflamed them with enthusiasm such as that inspired by Roosevelt, rather than mere admiration, Wilson would have found his political task immeasurably lightened. It is not surprising that his mistakes in tactics should have been so numerous. His isolation and dependence upon tactical advisers, such as Tumulty and Burleson, lacking broad vision, led him into serious errors, most of which--such as his appeal for a Democratic Congress in 1918, his selection of the personnel of the Peace Commission, his refusal to compromise with the "mild reservationist Senators" in the summer of 1919--were committed, significantly, when he was not in immediate contact with Colonel House.

The political strength of Wilson did not result primarily from intellectual power. His mind is neither profound nor subtle. His serious writings are sound but not characterized by originality, nor in his policies is there anything to indicate creative genius. He thinks straight and possesses the ability to concentrate on a single line of effort. He is skillful in catching an idea and adapting it to his purposes. Combined with his power of expression and his talent for making phrases, such qualities were of great a.s.sistance to him. But the real strength of the President lay rather in his gift of sensing what the common people wanted and his ability to put it into words for them. Few of his speeches are great; many of them are marred by tactless phrases, such as "too proud to fight" and "peace without victory." But nearly all of them express honestly the desires of the ma.s.ses. His strength in New Jersey and the extraordinary effect produced in Europe by his war speeches might be cited as evidence of this peculiar power. He sought above everything to catch the trend of inarticulate rather than vociferous opinion. If one objects that his patience under German outrages was not truly representative, we must remember that opinion was slow in crystallizing, that his policy was endorsed by the election of 1916, and that when he finally advocated war in April, 1917, the country entered the struggle practically a unit.

But it is obvious that, however much political strength was a.s.sured the President by his instinctive appreciation of popular feeling, this was largely offset by the _gaucherie_ of his political tactics. He had a genius for alienating persons who should have supported him and who agreed in general with the broad lines of his policies. Few men in public life have so thoroughly aroused the dislike of "the man in the street." Admitting that much of Wilson's unpopularity resulted from misunderstanding, from the feeling that he was a different sort, perhaps a "highbrow," the degree of dislike felt for him becomes almost inexplicable in the case of a President who, from all the evidence, was willing to sacrifice everything for what he considered to be the benefit of the common man. He might almost repeat Robespierre's final bitter and puzzled phrase: "To die for the people and to be abhorred by them." So keen was the irritation aroused by Wilson's methods and personality that many a citizen stated frankly that he preferred to see Wilsonian policies which he approved meet defeat, rather than see them carried to success by Wilson. This executive failing of the President was destined to jeopardize the greatest of his policies and to result in the personal tragedy of Wilson himself.

Certain large political principles stand out in Wilson's writings and career as Governor and President. Of these the most striking, perhaps, is his conviction that the President of the United States must be something more than a mere executive superintendent. The entire responsibility for the administration of government, he believed, should rest upon the President, and in order to meet that responsibility, he must keep the reins of control in his own hands. In his first essays and in his later writings Wilson expressed his disgust with the system of congressional committees which threw enormous power into the hands of irresponsible professional politicians, and called for a President who would break that system and exercise greater directive authority. For a time he seemed, under the influence of Bagehot, to have believed in the feasibility of introducing something like the parliamentary system into the government of the United States. To the last he regarded the President as a sort of Prime Minister, at the head of his party in the Legislature and able to count absolutely upon its loyalty. More than this, he believed that the President should take a large share of responsibility for the legislative programme and ought to push this programme through by all means at his disposal. Such a creed appeared in his early writings and was largely carried into operation during his administration. We find him bringing all possible pressure upon the New Jersey Legislature in order to redeem his campaign pledges. When elected President, he went directly to Congress with his message, instead of sending it to be read. Time and again he intervened to forward his special legislative interests by direct influence.

Both in his writings and in his actions Wilson has always advocated government by party. Theoretically and in practice he has been opposed to coalition government, for, in his belief, it divides responsibility.

Although by no means an advocate of the old-type spoils system, rewards for party service seem to him essential. Curiously enough, while insisting that the President is the leader of his party like a Prime Minister, he has also described him, with an apparent lack of logic, as the leader of the country. Because Wilson has thus confused party and people, it is easy to understand why he has at times claimed to represent the nation when, in reality, he was merely representing partisan views.

Such an att.i.tude is naturally irritating to the Opposition and explains something of the virulence that characterized the attacks made upon him in 1918 and later.

Wilson's political sentiments are tinged by a constant and intense interest in the common man. More than once he has insisted that it was more important to know what was said by the fireside than what was said in the council chamber. His strongest political weapon, he believes, has been the appeal over the heads of politicians to public opinion. His dislike of cliques and his strong prejudice against anything that savors of special privilege shone clear in his attack upon the Princeton club system, and the same light has not infrequently dazzled his vision as President. Thus, while by no means a radical, he instinctively turned to the support of labor in its struggles with capital because of the abuse of its privilege by capital in the past and regardless of more recent abuse of its power by labor. Similarly at the Peace Conference his sympathies were naturally with every weak state and every minority group.

Such tendencies may have been strengthened by the intensity of his religious convictions. There have been few men holding high office in recent times so deeply and constantly affected by Christian faith as Woodrow Wilson. The son of a clergyman and subjected during his early years to the most lively and devout sort of Presbyterianism, he preserved in his own family circle, in later years, a similar atmosphere. Nor was his conviction of the immanence and spiritual guidance of the Deity ever divorced from his professional and public life. We can discover in his presidential speeches many indications of his belief that the duties he had undertaken were laid upon him by G.o.d and that he might not deviate from what seemed to him the straight and appointed path. There is something reminiscent of Calvin in the stern and unswerving determination not to compromise for the sake of ephemeral advantage. This aspect of Wilson has been caught by a British critic, J. M. Keynes, who describes the President as a Nonconformist minister, whose thought and temperament were essentially theological, not intellectual, "with all the strength and weakness of that manner of thought, feeling, and expression." The observation is exact, although it does not in itself completely explain Wilson. Certainly nothing could be more characteristic of the President than the text of a Baccalaureate sermon which he preached at Princeton in 1907: "And be ye not conformed to this world." He believed with intensity that each individual must set up for himself a moral standard, which he must rigidly maintain regardless of the opinions of the community.

Entirely natural, therefore, is the emphasis which he has placed, whether as President of Princeton or of the United States, upon moral rather than material virtues. This, indeed, has been the essence of his political idealism. Such an emphasis has been for him at once a source of political strength and of weakness. The moralist unquestionably secures wide popular support; but he also wearies his audience, and many a voter has turned from Wilson in the spirit that led the Athenian to vote for the ostracism of Aristides, because he was tired of hearing him called "the Just." Whatever the immediate political effects, the country owes to Wilson a debt, which historians will doubtless acknowledge, for his insistence that morality must go hand in hand with public policy, that as with individuals, so with governments, true greatness is won by service rather than by acquisition, by sacrifice rather than by aggression.

Wilson and Treitschke are at opposite poles.

During his academic career Wilson seems to have displayed little interest in foreign affairs, and his knowledge of European politics, although sufficient for him to produce an admirable handbook on governments, including foreign as well as our own, was probably not profound. During his first year in the White House, he was typical of the Democratic party, which then approved the political isolation of the United States, abhorred the kind of commercial imperialism summed up in the phrase "dollar diplomacy," and apparently believed that the essence of foreign policy was to keep one's own hands clean. The development of Wilson from this parochial point of view to one which centers his whole being upon a policy of unselfish international service, forms, to a large extent, the main thread of the narrative which follows.

CHAPTER II

NEUTRALITY

Despite the wars and rumors of wars in Europe after 1910, few Americans perceived the gathering of the clouds, and probably not one in ten thousand felt more than an ordinary thrill of interest on the morning of June 29, 1914, when they read that the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria had been a.s.sa.s.sinated. Nor, a month later, when it became obvious that the resulting crisis was to precipitate another war in the Balkans, did most Americans realize that the world was hovering on the brink of momentous events. Not even when the most dire forebodings were realized and the great powers of Europe were drawn into the quarrel, could America appreciate its significance. Crowds gazed upon the bulletin boards and tried to picture the steady advance of German field-gray through the streets of Liege, asked their neighbors what were these French 75's, and endeavored to locate Mons and Verdun on inadequate maps. Interest could not be more intense, but it was the interest of the moving-picture devotee. Even the romantic voyage of the _Kronprinzessin Cecilie_ with her cargo of gold, seeking to elude the roving British cruisers, seemed merely theatrical. It was a tremendous show and we were the spectators.

Only the closing of the Stock Exchange lent an air of reality to the crisis.

It was true that the Spanish War had made of the United States a world power, but so firmly rooted in American minds was the principle of complete political isolation from European affairs that the typical citizen could not imagine any cataclysm on the other side of the Atlantic so engrossing as to engage the active partic.i.p.ation of his country. The whole course of American history had deepened the general feeling of aloofness from Europe and heightened the effect of the advice given by the first President when he warned the country to avoid entangling alliances. In the early nineteenth century the United States was a country apart, for in the days when there was neither steams.h.i.+p nor telegraph the Atlantic in truth separated the New World from the Old.

After the close of the "second war of independence," in 1815, the possibility of foreign complications seemed remote. The attention of the young nation was directed to domestic concerns, to the building up of manufactures, to the extension of the frontiers westward. The American nation turned its back to the Atlantic. There was a steady and welcome stream of immigrants from Europe, but there was little speculation or interest as to its headwaters.

Governmental relations with European states were disturbed at times by crises of greater or less importance. The proximity of the United States to and interest in Cuba compelled the Government to recognize the political existence of Spain; a French army was ordered out of Mexico when it was felt to be a menace; the presence of immigrant Irish in large numbers always gave a note of uncertainty to the national att.i.tude towards Great Britain. The export of cotton from the Southern States created industrial relations of such importance with Great Britain that, during the Civil War, after the establishment of the blockade on the Confederate coast, wisdom and forbearance were needed on both sides to prevent the breaking out of armed conflict. But during the last third of the century, which was marked in this country by an extraordinary industrial evolution and an increased interest in domestic administrative issues, the att.i.tude of the United States towards Europe, except during the brief Venezuelan crisis and the war with Spain, was generally characterized by the indifference which is the natural outcome of geographical separation.

In diplomatic language American foreign policy, so far as Europe was concerned, was based upon the principle of "non-intervention." The right to manage their affairs in their own way without interference was conceded to European Governments and a reciprocal att.i.tude was expected of them.

The American Government followed strictly the purpose of not partic.i.p.ating in any political arrangements made between European states regarding European issues. Early in the life of the nation Jefferson had correlated the double aspect of this policy: "Our first and fundamental maxim," he said, "should be never to entangle ourselves in the broils of Europe; our second, never to suffer Europe to intermeddle with cis-Atlantic affairs."

The influence of John Quincy Adams crystallized this double policy in the Monroe Doctrine, which, as compensation for denying to European states the right to intervene in American politics, sacrificed the generous sympathies of many Americans, among them President Monroe himself, with the republican movements across the Atlantic. With the continued and increasing importance of the Monroe Doctrine as a principle of national policy, the natural and reciprocal aspect of that doctrine, implying political isolation from Europe, became more deeply imbedded in the national consciousness.

There was, it is true, another aspect to American foreign policy besides the European, namely, that concerning the Pacific and the Far East, which, as diplomatic historians have pointed out, does not seem to have been affected by the tradition of isolation. Since the day when the western frontier was pushed to the Golden Gate, the United States has taken an active interest in problems of the Pacific. Alaska was purchased from Russia. An American seaman was the first to open the trade of j.a.pan to the outside world and thus precipitated the great revolution which has touched every aspect of Far Eastern questions. American traders watched carefully the commercial development of Oriental ports, in which Americans have played an active role. In China and in the maintenance of the open door especially, has America taken the keenest interest. It is a matter of pride that American policy, always of a purely commercial and peaceful nature, showed itself less aggressive than that of some European states.

But the Government insisted upon the recognition of American interest in every Far Eastern issue that might be raised, and was ready to intervene with those of Europe in moments of crisis or danger.

A fairly clear-cut distinction might thus be made between American pretensions in the different parts of the world. In the Americas the nation claimed that sort of preeminence which was implied by the Monroe Doctrine, a preeminence which as regards the Latin-American states north of the Orinoco many felt must be actively enforced, in view of special interests in the Caribbean. In the Far East the United States claimed an equality of status with the European powers. In the rest of the world, Europe, Africa, the Levant, the traditional American policy of abstention held good absolutely, at least until the close of the century.

The war with Spain affected American foreign policy vitally. The holding of the Philippines, even if it were to prove merely temporary, created new relations with all the great powers, of Europe as of Asia; American Caribbean interests were strengthened; and the victory over a European power, even one of a second cla.s.s in material strength, necessarily altered the traditional att.i.tude of the nation towards the other states of Europe and theirs towards it. This change was stimulated by the close attention which American merchants and bankers began to give to European combinations and policies, particularly to the exploitation of thinly populated districts by European states. Even before the Spanish War a keen-sighted student of foreign affairs, Richard Olney, had declared that the American people could not a.s.sume an att.i.tude of indifference towards European politics and that the hegemony of a single continental state would be disastrous to their prosperity if not to their safety. Conversely Europeans began to watch America with greater care. The victory over Spain was resented and the fear of American commercial development began to spread. The Kaiser had even talked of a continental customs union to meet American compet.i.tion. On the other hand, Great Britain, which had displayed a benevolent att.i.tude during the Spanish War and whose admiral at Manila had perhaps blocked German interference, showed an increasing desire for a close understanding. The friends.h.i.+p of the United States, itself once a British dependency, for the British colonies was natural and American interests in the Far East had much in common with those of Great Britain.

External evidence of the new place of the United States in the world might be found in the position taken by Roosevelt as peacemaker between Russia and j.a.pan, and, more significantly, in the role played by the American representative, Henry White, at the Conference of Algeciras in 1906. Not merely did the American Government consent to discuss matters essentially European in character, but its att.i.tude proved almost decisive in the settlement then drafted. It is true that the Senate, in approving that settlement, refused to a.s.sume responsibility for its maintenance and reiterated its adherence to traditional policy. But those who watched developments with intelligent eyes must have agreed with Roosevelt when he said: "We have no choice, we people of the United States, as to whether we shall play a great part in the affairs of the world. That has been decided for us by fate, by the march of events." Yet it may be questioned whether the average American, during the first decade of the twentieth century, realized the change that had come over relations with Europe. The majority of citizens certainly felt that anything happening east of the Atlantic was none of their business, just as everything that occurred in the Americas was entirely outside the scope of European interference.

There is little to show that Woodrow Wilson, at the time when he entered upon his duties as President, was one of the few Americans who fully appreciated the new international position of the United States and its consequences, even had there been no war. The Democratic platform of 1912 hardly mentioned foreign policy, and Wilson's Inaugural contained no reference to anything except domestic matters. Certain problems inherited from the previous Administration forced upon the President, however, the formulation, if not of a policy, at least of an att.i.tude. The questions of the Panama Ca.n.a.l tolls and j.a.panese immigration, the Mexican situation, the Philippines, general relations with Latin-America, all demanded attention. In each case Wilson displayed a willingness to sacrifice, a desire to avoid stressing the material strength of the United States, an anxiety to compromise, which matched in spirit the finest traditions of American foreign policy, which has generally been marked by high ideals.

Many of his countrymen, possibly without adequate study or command of the facts, supposed that Wilson was inspired less by positive ideals than by the belief that no problem of a foreign nature was worth a quarrel. People liked the principle contained in the sentence: "We can afford to exercise the self-restraint of a really great nation which realizes its own strength and scorns to misuse it." But they also wondered whether the pa.s.sivity of the Government did not in part proceed from the fact that the President could not make up his mind what he wanted to do. They looked upon his handling of the Mexican situation as clear evidence of a lack of policy. Nevertheless the country as a whole, without expressing enthusiasm for Wilson's att.i.tude, was obviously pleased by his attempts to avoid foreign entanglements, and in the early summer of 1914 the eyes of the nation were focused upon domestic issues.