XXI
AT THE WALDORF ASTORIA
FRIDAY, MAY 11TH
Ladies and Gentlemen:
BEFORE leaving New York officially with my companions, I wish it were in my power to express worthily and in a voice that could rise above your cheering and your ovations, our thanks to your vast population, which even this immense city can hardly contain. And as if the enthusiastic acclamations of these throngs, which, through our passing presence, reach far above and beyond us to the France we represent, were not enough to express your feelings, you have here, Mr. Mayor, gathered together in this enormous hall for a last farewell the very flower of your city. When I lift my dazzled eyes, I see beneath a flood of light all the radiance of youth and beauty assembled.
But since I can find no adequate words to acknowledge our appreciation of your exquisite courtesy, allow me, Mr. Mayor, to turn in simple thanks to you, and through you to the population of New York. May I congratulate the City upon being represented by such a man as yourself, on whose youthful brow I see all the maturity of deep thought, and who in order to administer such a gigantic city and to meet such complex duties must indeed be gifted with an exceptional combination of power and gentleness.
And if I could, were I not so pressed for time—for indeed at this very moment the whistle of the train is calling us—I would attempt as one gathers flowers into a nosegay, to recall and bind together the various impressions which my companions and myself have gathered in the course of our triumphal journey. I used to consider America, in deeds at least if not in thought, as above all a commercial country. But soon after we left Washington, the great political capital and seat of government, where we had the honour of being received by your illustrious President, Mr. Wilson, whose invisible and powerful presence we seemed to feel everywhere throughout the country, soon after we left Washington accompanied by Mr. Lansing's assistants, Mr. Long, Mr. Polk, Mr. Phillips, who were kind enough to share with us the hardships of the road, but also shared, I may say, the intoxication of our triumph, we had a full opportunity of seeing a part, though but a small one, of this vast America which before was unknown to some of us. And what did we behold? Undoubtedly many Americans of ancient origin, but also (and they above all attracted our attention, all the more because we had heard so much of them) people of all races fused in your gigantic melting-pot. Many of these races have doubtless remained faithful to their old traditions, but the American soul is so all-embracing, so powerful, that it has absorbed them all, and they are now all American. We saw with our own eyes proofs of their loyalty to their new fatherland and of a national unity we were hardly prepared to find.
And it is before this people we appear to-day in this tragical hour, before this people which has, so to say, absorbed into its frame the races and traditions of other lands and in whose midst the old European races have come to renew their blood and seek fresh fountains of strength. It is before this people we come to solve grave problems. And in spite of the distance, even here our minds go back to the battlefields, to the struggles, the sorrows and the sufferings of the old world. Such a meeting at such a time is the greatest honour of my life; and I count it also a supreme satisfaction to meet here amidst such a gathering my distinguished colleague, the representative of noble Great Britain, Mr. Balfour, who in a simple and manly speech has just expressed truths similar to those which I, in my turn, will seek to express.
May I be permitted, Mr. Mayor, to recall
those dark hours you alluded to just now, those fateful hours, when I was Prime Minister of France,
and Marshal Joffre was in supreme command of
the French forces? As you very truly said, each
knew he could rely upon the other. At that hour,
on the 3d of August, 1914, we were face to face
with Imperial Germany. Alone with Russia,
which has now sprung to new national life, and
which, I trust, after the tempest of its revolution
is over and its eddies have subsided, will realize
that national emancipation and world-wide
liberty must be fought for at one and the same
time; alone with Russia, France faced her destiny.
England had not yet joined us, but of her I never
doubted. If at that date an Englishman had told
me he would refuse to fight, I should have answered he knew not what he said, that such a
thought was unthinkable. And indeed those
anxious hours passed swiftly away: Germany tore
international treaties to pieces, in order to strike a
quicker blow at France: she invaded heroic Belgium, who, with her chivalrous King rushed to
meet her, and England, our indomitable ally, rose
to a man when the fateful hour had struck. With
us she had signed that broken treaty: she declared
that her national honour would be stained if the
blood of her children were not shed to defend her
signature. She declared there were not two standards of morality, one for nations, one for indivuals, that honesty was the common basis for all
human relations, and that she would perish rather than he dishonoured. And she sprang to her feet,
rallied to our side, mobilized her powerful fleet;
and next, as Mr. Balfour said, sent us such army
as she could, for she was unprepared, as democracies too often are, through the failure of a general
conscription law, to gather more than eighty thousand men. But those she sent under Marshal
French to cooperate with General Joffre and receive his instructions. She could do no more.
"French's contemptible little army" the Kaiser
sneered; but it fought with us on the Marne and
swelled rapidly to two hundred thousand; then
five hundred thousand; then a million; then one
million five hundred thousand. Thus did England
call from her soil her legions to join ours, and hold
ever wider portions of our front. And General
Joffre who, if he was not in direct command of the
English forces, yet gave his instructions, first to
Marshal French, then to General Sir Douglas
Haig, now in supreme command. General Joffre
would tell you what valiant soldiers, what heroes
have rallied to our side, full of that quiet energy,
dogged courage, humorous cheerfulness, characteristic of a race that smiles in the very jaws of
death.
Now German organization, German Kultur, are
fine things, no doubt, gentlemen, when seen from
a distance. But mark me well; their vices are
apparent when one draws near to them. Do you
know what has brought disaster on Germany? What hurls her to ruin? Let me tell you: it is her
lack of psychological insight. She sent to England, to Russia, to France, second-rate diplomats
whose only care was to gossip in drawing-rooms
and knew not the people. Of English history, of
French history, they knew nothing. Germany
imagined these two great peoples were helpless to
defend themselves. What did she think of England? That it was a people enamoured of peace
and that no power could bring it out of its island;
that the government in 1914 was pacifist, and
afraid to fight. And again that imperialistic
England in her desire to dominate the world would
rouse her very colonies to revolt: and Ireland's
rebellion was a sure thing, fomented as it was,
doubtless, by German gold. Well, what did happen? Ireland remained loyal to England; and the
English colonies, seething with revolt they said,
rose, not in revolt, but to send their sons, their
munitions, their money, their very life-blood to
Great Britain. And what does that teach us?
It teaches us that when a country has an ideal,
when it loves liberty, not only for itself but for all
men, when it carries free principles everywhere
with it, it brings forth, not slaves, but free men,
men who in the hour of peril heroically rush, as the
English colonies did, to the help of their menaced
motherland.
And so with us: Germany's mistake was no less
ruinously foolish. She had sent us a diplomat, Mr. de Schoen, who knew nothing of France, and
who dreamed her powerless, because he had witnessed our interior dissensions, party quarrels,
divisions of opinion, which are the honour of our
country, because a free nation needs must seek
truth and its ideal in every way. So Germany
imagined the hour of battle would find us unprepared, incapable of defence; she saw France,
corrupt and dissolute France, beaten to her feet
at the first shock, and demanding peace at any
cost of Imperial Germany after the first brief
battles. Doubtless our past history made her
give us credit for being brave, intrepid, capable of
dash on the battlefield. But what could courage,
intrepidity, dash avail; what all the virtues of
individual men which are the glory of every man?
Germany was scientifically organized: her industrial and scientific organization needs must prevail
over French valour. Well, what did we make
manifest to the whole world? Two qualities: one
which all men knew who knew the glorious traditions of France throughout the ages: dash, intrepidity, valour, contempt of death; but another
quality was denied us, that of endurance, that of
patience, that of quiet courage: the steady heart
and unshaken nerves under the storm of shot and
shell. Now in two battles we combined both
qualities, as if we would offer them up to the whole
world as a homage and a lesson. In August,
1914, we showed what dash French troops possessed in spite of weariness, in spite of the heat
of an endless summer, the exhaustion of three
weeks' incessant fighting. Suddenly, miraculously, the whole French Army stood at bay, and
turned upon its enemy. And the man who commanded that army had remained calm and impassive: every evening he telephoned to me, who was
then Premier of France, the result of the military
operations: at this very moment I can hear his
voice come to me over the wires, quiet, grave, unbroken by the slightest emotion. And that voice
spoke its unflinching confidence in final victory, in
spite of all. And when the hour had struck, the
moment come, the order was issued, was forwarded
to the armies, the Generals: every officer read it
to his men: "My children, here we stand. Halt
and face the barbarians. Die to the last man
rather than retreat another step."
Such was French dash, French valour. It
counted for nothing in German eyes. But the
day came when the other virtue was shown; that
on which they relied yet less. One day they
dreamed Verdun could be taken, not because it
was in itself the greatest prize; it would have been
no victory—but to drive into France and impose
peace—for our enemies think they can let peace
loose on the world, as they unchain war. And so
German armies were piled up on the French front.
It was impossible for us to advance against such
odds. Our Generals spoke: Children, not one step back: if you yield a yard, let every yard have
its bloody cost for your enemy. And through
the endless days and nights, under shot and shell,
under the avalanche of shells that tore up the
very earth, among their falling comrades, led by
their officers, our men held fast, contesting every
inch of ground, fighting for months and months
without an instant's respite, holding back the
whole weight of the German army. And now, when
we leave our land, when we say those two names,
the Marne and Verdun, we mingle in one the two
master virtues of our race: valour and patience,
courage and endurance, the Marne and Verdun,
names which accompany us wherever we go, in
neutral, in friendly, in allied countries, the Marne,
Verdun, the glory of which follows us step by step
as we go, and sheds its radiance over the heavens
above us.
What yet remains to be done? For three long
years the English and the French, sword in hand,
have fought, not for England alone, not for France
alone, but for humanity, for right, for democracy.
For three long years the Russian soldiers in the
northern snows, victorious in Southern Europe,
have fought for the same ideal; for two years
seductive, virile Italy has scaled the Alps and
shattered with its hands the stony barrier that
stifled its liberty: for three years Serbia, murdered,
trampled under foot ruthlessly, has fought: for
three years heroic Belgium has maintained her honour against a perjured foe. For three long
years we have striven, face to face with our enemy,
lightened our grasp upon his throat, held our own.
And now, when we are still strong and undismayed,
neither worn out nor doubting, still full of force
and resource, comes free America to our side,
radiant with its democratic ideals and ancient
traditions, to fight with us. She read in President
Wilson's incomparable message, which has gone to
the heart of every Frenchman, the deep reasons
why she could not but enter into this war. Yes,
doubtless you had your slaughtered dead to avenge;
to avenge the insults heaped on your honour.
You could not for one moment conceive that the
land of Lincoln, the land of Washington could bow
humbly before the imperial eagle. But not for
that did you rise, not for your national honour
alone: do not say it was for that. You are fighting
for the whole world: you are fighting for all liberty:
you are fighting for civilization: that is why you
have risen in battle. And just now Mr. Choate
said: "The English and French Mission are here
to tell us what to avoid and what to do."
And your Mayor expressed in an accurate formula his generous conception of our relations when
he said: "America is founded on French idealism
and English common law." Nothing could be
truer: it is all the truth: I can add nothing to his
words. But I will tell you what you can do. You
are remote from our battlefields: no Zeppelins can fly above your towns and scatter their bombs over
the cradles of your innocent children: German ships
are blocked in the Kiel Canal: they cannot defile
your waters: at this distance you cannot hear the
roar of the cannon. But can you imagine that
you are not in sooth as close to us, in spite of distance, as we are to you: that Germany is not as
near you as she is to us: that the peril is remote?
No. The menace of Germany lies where Mr.
Balfour so philosophically defined it. He told
you that the menace of Germany lies in her scientific organization; and I will attempt to interpret
his words in the spirit that prompted them. We
are all agreed Prussian militarism must be crushed:
so long as the world contains it, there is no safety
in it for democracy. But what is Prussian militarism? It was not born yesterday: it was not
born in 1914. It is an ancient sore. It is the
bestial and inhuman expression of a philosophy,
the outcome of a whole race so madly intoxicated
with conceit that it imagines it is predestined to
dominate the world, and is amazed to see free men
dare to rise and contest its rights. And if you
had not risen against it, it is not with artillery,
not with shells, not with submarines, not with
Zeppelins you would have been attacked. It is
by the methods and spirit of Germany gradually
filtering into your brains, impregnating invisibly
your hearts, and little by little violating your souls
and consciences. That was the hidden danger, the menace of Germany. You realized the peril, and
you have risen to face it, to fight a menace not to
you alone, but to all civilization. Now all we
free men are one in will. The hour for the liberation of all men has struck at last. All have risen
in arms in the good fight, fought by us, by our
children, to the bitter end. And we will never
falter till victory crowns our aims. And when in
far-off days, after this war, history shall tell why
we fought, in days yet ringing with this strife,
long after the voice of the cannon is silent, then
impartial history shall speak. It will say why all
the peoples arose in battle, why the free allied
peoples fought. Not for conquest. They were
not nations of prey. No morbid ambitions lay
festering in their hearts and consciences. Why
then did they fight? To repel the most brutal
and insidious of aggressions. They fought for the
respect of international treaties trampled under
foot by the brutal soldiery of Germany, they
fought to raise all the peoples of the earth to free
breath, to the ideal of liberty for all, so that the
world might be habitable for free men—or to
perish. And history will add: They did not
perish. They vanquished. They shattered the
ponderous sword that German militarism aimed
against the conscience and the heart of all free men.
And thus together we shall have won a moral
victory and a material one. It is that dawn that I
greet, that hour of fate I bow my head before. May the soul of Washington inspire our souls:
may the great shade of Lincoln rise from its
shroud. We are all resolved to battle till the end
for the deliverance of humanity, the deliverance of
democracy. Rise then, brother citizens, and lift
your brows to the level of your flag.