the completeness of the accord reached on most points by the conferees caused satisfaction and even some surprise among participants
REDS FORCE MERCHANT VESSELS TO FLEE HUNS ON RUN
Auprès de ma blonde Qu'il fait bon fait bon fait bon Auprès de ma blonde Qu'il fait bon dormir
CHEZ LES SOCIALISTES LES AVEUGLES SONT ROI
The German government requests the President of the United States of America to take steps for the restoration of peace, to notify all the belligerents of this request and to invite them to delegate plenipotentiaries for the purpose of taking up negotiations. The German Government accepts, as a basis for the peace negotiations, the programme laid down by the President of the United States in his message to Congress of January 8th, 1918, and in his subsequent pronouncements, par- ticularly in his address of September 27th, 1918. In order to avoid further bloodshed the German government requests the President of the United States to bring about the immediate conclusion of a general armistice on land, on the water, and in the air.
Joe had been hanging around New York and Brooklyn for a while, borrowing money from Mrs. Olsen and get- ting tanked up all the time. One day she went to work and threw him out. It was damned cold and he had to go
to a mission a couple of nights. He was afraid of getting arrested for the draft and he was fed up with every goddam thing; it ended by his going out as ordinary sea- man on the Appalachian, a big new freighter bound for Bordeaux and Genoa. It kinder went with the way he felt being treated like a jailbird again and swobbing decks and chipping paint. In the focastle there was mostly country kids who'd never seen the sea and a few old bums who weren't good for anything. They got into a dirty blow four days out and shipped a small tidal wave that stove in two of the starboard lifeboats and the convoy got scat- tered and they found that the deck hadn't been properly caulked and the water kept coming down into the focastle. It turned out that Joe was the only man they had on board the mate could trust at the wheel, so they took him off scrubbing paint and in his four hour tricks he had plenty of time to think about how lousy everything was. In Bor- deaux he'd have liked to look up Marceline, but none of the crew got to go ashore.
The bosun went and got cockeyed with a couple of doughboys and came back with a bottle of cognac for Joe, whom he'd taken a shine to, and a lot of latrine talk about how the frogs were licked and the limeys and the wops were licked something terrible and how if it hadn't been for us the Kaiser ud be riding into gay Paree any day and as it was it was nip and tuck. It was cold as hell. Joe and the bosun went and drank the cognac in the galley with the cook who was an old timer who'd been in the Klondike gold rush. They had the ship to themselves be- cause the officers were all ashore taking a look at the ma- demosels and everybody else was asleep. The bosun said it was the end of civilization and the cook said he didn't give a f -- k and Joe said he didn't give a f -- k and the bosun said they were a couple of goddam bolshevikis and passed out cold.
It was a funny trip round Spain and through the
Straits and up the French coast to Genoa. All the way there was a single file of camouflaged freighters, Greeks and Britishers and Norwegians and Americans, all hug- ging the coast and creeping along with lifepreservers piled on deck and boats swung out on the davits. Passing 'em was another line coming back light, transports and colliers from Italy and Saloniki, white hospital ships, every kind of old tub out of the seven seas, rusty freighters with their screws so far out of the water you could hear 'em thrash- ing a couple of hours after they were hull down and out of sight. Once they got into the Mediterranean there were French and British battleships to seaward all the time and sillylooking destroyers with their long smokesmudges that would hail you and come aboard to see the ship's papers. Ashore it didn't look like the war a bit. The weather was sunny after they passed Gibraltar. The Span- ish coast was green with bare pink and yellow mountains back of the shore and all scattered with little white houses like lumps of sugar that bunched up here and there into towns. Crossing the Gulf of Lyons in a drizzling rain and driving fog and nasty choppy sea they came within an aceof running down a big felucca loaded with barrels of wine. Then they were bowling along the French Riviera in a howling northwest wind, with the redroofed towns all bright and shiny and the dry hills rising rocky behind them, and snowmountains standing out clear up above. After they passed Monte Carlo it was a circus, the houses were all pink and blue and yellow and there were tall poplars and tall pointed churchsteeples in all the valleys.
That night they were on the lookout for the big light marked on the chart for Genoa when they saw a red glare ahead. Rumor went around that the heinies had captured the town and were burning it. The second mate put up to the skipper right on the bridge that they'd all be captured if they went any further and they'd better go back and put into Marseilles but the skipper told him it was none of
his goddam business and to keep his mouth shut till his opinion was asked. The glare got brighter as they got nearer. It turned out to be a tanker on fire outside the breakwater. She was a big new Standard Oil tanker, set- tled a little in the bows with fire pouring out of her and spreading out over the water. You could see the break- water and the lighthouses and the town piling up the hills behind with red glitter in all the windows and the crowded ships in the harbor all lit up with the red flare.
After they'd anchored, the bosun took Joe and a couple of the youngsters in the dingy and they went over to see what they could do aboard the tanker. The stern was way up out of water. So far as they could see there was no one on the ship. Some wops in a motorboat came up and jab- bered at them but they pretended not to understand what they meant. There was a fireboat standing by too, but there wasn't anything they could do. "Why the hell don't they scuttle her?" the bosun kept saying.
Joe caught sight of a ropeladder hanging into the water and pulled the dingy over to it. Before the others had started yelling at him to come back he was half way up it. When he jumped down onto the deck from the rail he wondered what the hell he was doing up there. God damn it, I hope she does blow up, he said aloud to him- self. It was bright as day up there. The forward part of the ship and the sea around it was burning like a lamp. He reckoned the boat had hit a mine or been torpedoed. The crew had evidently left in a hurry as there were all sorts of bits of clothing and a couple of seabags by the davits aft where the lifeboats had been. Joe picked him- self out a nice new sweater and then went down into the cabin. On a table he found a box of Havana cigars. He took out a cigar and lit one. It made him feel good to stand there and light a cigar with the goddam tanks ready to blow him to Halifax any minute. It was a good cigar, too. In a tissuepaper package on the table were seven
pairs of ladies' silk stockings. Swell to take home to Del, was his first thought. But then he remembered that he was through with all that. He stuffed the silk stockings into his pants pockets anyway, and went back on deck.
The bosun was yelling at him from the boat for chris- sake to come along or he'd get left. He just had time to pick up a wallet on the companion way. "It ain't gasoline, it's crude oil. She might burn for a week," he yelled at the guys in the boat as he came slowly down the ladder pulling at the cigar as he came and looking out over the harbor packed with masts and stacks and derricks at the big marble houses and the old towers and porticos and the hills behind all lit up in red. "Where the hell's the crew?"
"Probably all cockeyed ashore by this time, where I'd like to be," said the bosun. Joe divvied up the cigars but he kept the silk stockings for himself. There wasn't any- thing in the wallet. "Hellofa note," grumbled the bosun, "haven't they got any chemicals?""These goddam wops wouldn't know what to do with 'em if they did have," said one of the youngsters.
They rowed back to the Appalachian and reported to the skipper that the tanker had been abandoned and it was up to the port authorities to get rid of her.
All next day the tanker burned outside the breakwater. About nightfall another of her tanks went off like a roman candle and the fire began spreading more and more over the water. The Appalachian heaved her anchor and went up to the wharf.
That night Joe and the bosun went out to look at the town. The streets were narrow and had steps in them leading up the hill to broad avenues, with cafés and little tables out under the colonnades, where the pavements were all polished marble set in patterns. It was pretty chilly and they went into a bar and drank pink hot drinks with rum in them.
There they ran into a wop named Charley who'd been
twelve years in Brooklyn and he took them to a dump where they ate a lot of spaghetti and fried veal and drank white wine. Charley told about how they treated you like a dog in the Eyetalian army and the pay was five cents a day and you didn't even get that and Charley was all for il Presidente Veelson and the fourteen points and said soon they'd make peace without victory and bigga revoluzione in Italia and make bigga war on the Francese and the Inglese treata Eyetalian lika dirt. Charley brought in two girls he said were his cousins, Nedda and Dora, and one of 'em sat on Joe's knees and, boy, how she could eat spaghetti, and they all drank wine. It cost 'em all the money Joe had to pay for supper.
When he was taking Nedda up to bed up an outside staircase in the courtyard he could see the flare of the tanker burning outside of the harbor on the blank walls and tiled roofs of the houses.
Nedda wouldn't get undressed but wanted to see Joe's money. Joe didn't have any money so he brought out the silk stockings. She looked worried and shook her head but she was darn pretty and had big black eyes and Joe wanted it bad and yelled for Charley and Charley came up the stairs and talked wop to the girl and said sure she'd take the silk stockings and wasn't America the great- est country in the world and tutti aleati and Presidente Veelson big man for Italia. But the girl wouldn't go ahead until they'd gotten hold of an old woman who was in the kitchen, who came wheezing up the stairs and felt the stockings, and musta said they were real silk and worth money, because the girl put her arm around Joe's neck and Charley said, "Sure, pard, she sleepa with you all night, maka love good."
But about midnight when the girl had gone to sleep Joe got tired of lying there. He could smell the closets down in the court and a rooster kept crowing loud as the dickens like it was right under his ear. He got up and put
on his clothes and tiptoed out. The silk stockings were hanging on a chair. He picked 'em up and shoved them in his pockets again. His shoes creaked like hell. The street door was all bolted and barred and he had a devil of a time getting it open. Just as he got out in the street a dog began to bark somewhere and he ran for it. He got lost in a million little narrow stone streets, but he figured that if he kept on going down hill he'd get to the harbor some- time. Then he began to see the pink glow from the burn- ing tanker again on some of the housewalls and steered by that.
On some steep steps he ran into a couple of Americans in khaki uniforms and asked them the way and they gave him a drink out of a bottle of cognac and said they were on their way to the Eyetalian front and that there'd been a big retreat and that everything was cockeyed and they didn't know where the cockeyed front was and they were going to wait right there till the cockeyed front came right to them. He told 'em about the silk stockings and they thought it was goddam funny, and showed him the way to the wharf where the Appalachian was and they shook hands a great many times when they said goodnight and they said the wops were swine and he said they were princes to have shown him the way and they said he was a prince and they finished up the cognac and he went on board and tumbled into his bunk.
When the Appalachian cleared for home the tanker was still burning outside the harbor. Joe came down with dose on the trip home and he couldn't drink anything for sev- eral months and kinda steadied down when he got to Brooklyn. He went to the shoreschool run by the Shipping Board in Platt Institute and got his second mate's license and made trips back and forth between New York and St. Nazaire all through that year on a new wooden boat built in Seattle called the Owanda, and a lot of trouble they had with her.
He and Janey wrote each other often. She was over- seas with the Red Cross and very patriotic. Joe began to think that maybe she was right. Anyway if you believed the papers the heinies were getting licked, and it was a big opportunity for a young guy if you didn't get in wrong by being taken for a proGerman or a Bolshevik or some goddam thing. After all as Janey kept writing civilization had to be saved and it was up to us to do it. Joe started a savings account and bought him a Liberty bond.
Armistice night Joe was in St. Nazaire. The town was wild. Everybody ashore, all the doughboys out of their camps, all the frog soldiers out of their barracks, every- body clapping everybody else on the back, pulling corks, giving each other drinks, popping champagne bottles, kiss- ing every pretty girl, being kissed by old women, kissed on both cheeks by French veterans with whiskers. The mates and the skipper and the chief and a couple of naval officers they'd never seen before all started to have a big feed in a café but they never got further than soup be- cause everybody was dancing in the kitchen and they poured the cook so many drinks he passed out cold and they all sat there singing and drinking champagne out of tumblers and cheering the allied flags that girls kept carrying through.
Joe went cruising looking for Jeanette who was a girl he'd kinder taken up with whenever he was in St. Nazaire. He wanted to find her before he got too zigzag. She'd promised to couchay with him that night before it turned out to be Armistice Day. She said she never couchayed with anybody else all the time the Owanda was in port and he treated her right and brought her beaucoup presents from L'Amerique, and du sucer and du cafay. Joe felt good, he had quite a wad in his pocket and, god damn it, American money was worth something these days; and a couple of pounds of sugar he'd brought in the pockets of his raincoat was better than money with the mademosels.
He went in back where there was a cabaret all red plush with mirrors and the music was playing The Star Spangled Banner and everybody cried Vive L'Amerique and pushed drinks in his face as he came in and then he was dancing with a fat girl and the music was playing some damn foxtrot or other. He pulled away from the fat girl because he'd seen Jeanette. She had an American flag draped over her dress. She was dancing with a big six- foot black Senegalese. Joe saw red. He pulled her away from the nigger who was a frog officer all full of gold braid and she said, "Wazamatta cherie," and Joe hauled off and hit the damn nigger as hard as he could right on the button but the nigger didn't budge. The nigger's face had a black puzzled smiling look like he was just going to ask a question. A waiter and a coupla frog soldiers came up and tried to pull Joe away. Everybody was yelling and jabbering. Jeanette was trying to get between Joe and the waiter and got a sock in the jaw that knocked her flat. Joe laid out a couple of frogs and was backing off towards the door, when he saw in the mirror that a big guy in a blouse was bringing down a bottle on his head held with both hands. He tried to swing around but he didn't have time. The bottle crashed his skull and he was out.
the arrival of the news caused the swamping of the city's telephone lines
Y fallait pas Y fallait pas Y fallait pas-a-a-a-a-yallez
BIG GUNS USED IN HAMBURG
at the Custom House the crowd sang The Star Spangled Banner under the direction of Byron R. Newton the Collector of the Port
MORGAN ON WINDOWLEDGE KICKS HEELS AS HE SHOWERS CROWD WITH TICKERTAPE
down at the battery the siren of the fireboat New York let out a shriek when the news reached there and in less time than it takes to say boo pandemonium broke loose all along the waterfront
Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light
WOMEN MOB CROWN PRINCE FOR KISSING MODISTE
Allons enfants de la patrie Le jour de gloire est arrivé
It's the wrong way to tickle Mary It's the wrong place to go
"We've been at war with the devil and it was worth all the suffering it entailed," said William Howard Taft at a vic- tory celebration here last night
Kakakatee, beautiful Katee She's the only gugugirl that I adore And when the moon shines
Unipress, N. Y.
Paris urgent Brest Admiral Wilson who announced 16:00 (4P.M.) Brest newspaper armistice been signed later notified unconfirmable meanwhile Brest riotously celebrating
TWO TROLLIES HELD UP BY GUNMEN IN QUEENS
Over the cowshed I'll be waiting at the kakakitchen door
SPECIAL GRAND JURY ASKED TO INDICT BOLSHEVISTS
the soldiers and sailors gave the only touch of color to the celebration. They went in wholeheartedly for having a good time, getting plenty to drink despite the fact that they were in uniform. Some of these returned fighters nearly caused a riot when they took an armful of stones and attempted to break an electric sign at Broadway and Forty-second Street reading:
WELCOME HOME TO OUR HEROES
Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming When the rocket's red glare the bombs bursting in air Was proof to our eyes that the flag was still there
THE CAMERA EYE (36)
when we emptied the rosies to leeward over the side every night after the last inspection we'd stop for a moment's gulp of the November gale the lash of spray in back of your ears for a look at the spume splintered off the leaping waves shipwreckers drowners of men (in their great purple floating mines rose and fell gently sub- marines travelled under them on an even keel) to glance at the sky veiled with scud to take our hands off the greasy handles of the cans full of slum they couldnt eat (nine meals nine dumpings of the leftover grub nine cussing- matches with the cockney steward who tried to hold out
on the stewed apricots inspections AttenSHUN click clack At Ease shoot the flashlight in everycorner of the tin pans nine lineups along the heaving airless cor- ridor of seasick seascared doughboys with their messkits in their hands)
Hay sojer tell me they've signed an armístice tell me the wars over they're takin us home latrine talk the hell you say now I'll tell one we were already leading the empty rosies down three flights of iron ladders into the heaving retching hold starting up with the full whenever the ship rolled a little slum would trickle out the side
The year that Buchanan was elected president Thomas Woodrow Wilson was born to a presbyterian minister's daughter in the manse at Staunton in the valley of Virginia; it was the old Scotch-Irish stock; the father was a pres- byterian minister too and a teacher of rhetoric in theo- logical seminaries; the Wilsons lived in a universe of words linked into an incontrovertible firmament by two centuries of calvinist divines,
God was the Word and the Word was God.
Dr. Wilson was a man of standing who loved his home and his children and good books and his wife and correct syntax and talked to God every day at family prayers;
he brought his sons up between the bible and the dictionary.
The years of the Civil War the years of fife and drum and platoonfire and proclamations the Wilsons lived in Augusta, Georgia; Tommy was a backward child, didn't learn his letters till he was nine, but when he learned to read his favorite read- ing was Parson Weems' Life of Washington.
In 1870 Dr. Wilson was called to the Theological Seminary at Columbia, South Carolina; Tommy at- tended Davidson college, where he developed a good tenor voice; then he went to Princeton and became a debater and editor of the Princetonian. His first published ar- ticle in the Nassau Literary Magazine was an apprecia- tion of Bismarck.
Afterwards he studied law at the University of Vir- ginia; young Wilson wanted to be a Great Man, like Gladstone and the eighteenth century English parlia- mentarians; he wanted to hold the packed benches spell- bound in the cause of Truth; but lawpractice irked him; he was more at home in the booky air of libraries, lec- turerooms, college chapel, it was a relief to leave his lawpractice at Atlanta and take a Historical Fellowship at Johns Hopkins; there he wrote Congressional Gov- ernment.
At twentynine he married a girl with a taste for painting (while he was courting her he coached her in how to use the broad "a") and got a job at Bryn Mawr teaching the girls History and Political Economy. When he got his Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins he moved
to a professorship at Wesleyan, wrote articles, started a History of the United States,
spoke out for Truth Reform Responsible Govern- ment Democracy from the lecture platform, climbed all the steps of a brilliant university careeri in 1901 the trustees of Princeton offered him the presidency;
he plunged into reforming the university, made violent friends and enemies, set the campus by the ears, and the American people began to find on the front pages
the name of Woodrow Wilson.
In 1909 he made addresses on Lincoln and Robert E. Lee
and in 1910
the democratic bosses of New Jersey, hardpressed by muckrakers and reformers, got the bright idea of offering the nomination for governor to the stainless college president who attracted such large audiences by publicly championing Right.
When Mr. Wilson addressed the Trenton conven- tion that nominated him for governor he confessed his belief in the common man, (the smalltown bosses and the wardheelers looked at each other and scratched their heads); he went on, his voice growing firmer:
that is the man by whose judgment I for one wish to be guided, so that as the tasks multiply, and as the days come when all will feel confusion and dismay, we may lift up our eyes to the hills out of these dark valleys where the crags of special privilege overshadow and darken our path, to where the sun gleams through the great passage in the broken cliffs, the sun of God,
the sun meant to regenerate men, the sun meant to liberate them from their passion and despair and lift us to those uplands which are the
promised land of every man who desires liberty and achievement.
The smalltown bosses and the wardheelers looked at each other and scratched their heads; then they cheered; Wilson fooled the wiseacres and double- crossed the bosses, was elected by a huge plurality; so he left Princeton only half reformed to be Governor of New Jersey, and became reconciled with Bryan at the Jackson Day dinner: when Bryan remarked, "I of course knew that you were not with me in my position on the currency," Mr. Wilson replied, "All I can say, Mr. Bryan, is that you are a great big man."
He was introduced to Colonel House, that amateur Merlin of politics who was spinning his webs at the Hotel Gotham and at the convention in Baltimore the next July the upshot of the puppetshow staged for sweating dele- gates by Hearst and House behind the scenes, and Bryan booming in the corridors with a handkerchief over his wilted collar, was that Woodrow Wilson was nominated for the presidency.
The bolt of the Progressives in Chicago from Taft to T.R. made his election sure; so he left the State of New Jersey halreformed (pitiless publicity was the slogan of the Shadow Lawn Campaign) and went to the White House our twentyeighth president.
While Woodrow Wilson drove up Pennsylvania Avenue beside Taft the great buttertub, who as presi- dent had been genially undoing T.R.'s reactionary ef- forts to put business under the control of the govern- ment,
J. Pierpont Morgan sat playing solitaire in his
back office on Wall Street, smoking twenty black cigars a day, cursing the follies of democracy.
Wilson flayed the interests and branded privilege refused to recognize Huerta and sent the militia to the Rio Grande to assume a policy of watchful waiting. He pub- lished The New Freedom and delivered his messages to Congress in person, like a college president address- ing the faculty and students. At Mobile he said:
I wish to take this occasion to say that the United States will never again seek one additional foot of terri- tory by conquest;
and he landed the marines at Vera Cruz.
We are witnessing a renaissance of public spirit, a reawakening of sober public opinion, a revival of the power of the people the beginning of an age of thought- ful reconstruction . . .
but the world had started spinning round Sarajevo.
First it was neutrality in thought and deed, then too proud to fight when the Lusitania sinking and the danger to the Morgan loans and the stories of the Brit- ish and French propagandists set all the financial centers in the East bawling for war, but the suction of the drumbeat and the guns was too strong; the best people took their fashions from Paris and their broad "a's" from London, and T.R. and the House of Morgan.
Five months after his reelection on the slogan He kept us out of war, Wilson pushed the Armed Ship Bill through congress and declared that a state of war existed between the United States and the Central Powers:
Force without stint or limit, force to the utmost.
Wilson became the state (war is the health of the state), Washington his Versailles, manned the socialized
government with dollar a year men out of the great corporations and ran the big parade
of men munitions groceries mules and trucks to France. Five million men stood at attention outside of their tarpaper barracks every sundown while they played The Star Spangled Banner.
War brought the, eight hour day, women's votes, prohibition, compulsory arbitration, high wages, high rates of interest' cost plus contracts and the luxury of being a Gold Star Mother.
If you objected to making the world safe for cost plus democracy you went to jail with Debs.
Almost too soon the show was over, Prince Max of Baden was pleading for the Fourteen Points, Foch was occupying the bridgeheads on the Rhine and the Kaiser out of breath ran for the train down the platform at Potsdam wearing a silk hat and some say false whiskers.
With the help of Almighty God, Right, Truth, Justice, Freedom, Democracy, the Selfdetermination of Nations, No indemnities no annexations,
and Cuban sugar and Caucasian manganese and Northwestern wheat and Dixie cotton, the British blockade, General Pershing, the taxicabs of Paris and the seventyfive gun
we won the war.
On December 4th, 1918, Woodrow Wilson, the first president to leave the territory of the United States during his presidency, sailed for France on board the George Washington, the most powerful man in the world.
In Europe they knew what gas smelt like and the sweet sick stench of bodies buried too shallow and the grey look of the skin of starved children; they read in
the papers that Meester Veelson was for peace and free- dom and canned goods and butter and sugar;
he landed at Brest with his staff of experts and publicists after a rough trip on the George Washington.
La France héroïque was there with the speeches, the singing schoolchildren, the mayors in their red sashes. (Did Meester Veelson see the gendarmes at Brest beating back the demonstration of dockyard workers who came to meet him with red flags?)
At the station in Paris he stepped from the train onto a wide red carpet that lead him, between rows of potted palms, silk hats, legions of honor, decorated busts of uniforms, irockcoats, rosettes, boutonnières, to a Rolls Royce. (Did Meester Veelson see the women in black, the cripples in their little carts, the pale anxious faces along the streets, did he hear the terrible anguish of the cheers as they hurried him and his new wife to the hôtel de Mrat, where in rooms full of brocade, gilt clocks, Buhl cabinets and ormolu cupids the presi- dential suite had been prepared?)
While the experts were organizing the procedure of the peace conference, spreading green baize on the tables, arranging the protocols,
the Wilsons took a tour to see for themselves: the day after Christmas they were entertained at Bucking- ham Palace; at Newyears they called on the pope and on the microscopic Italian king at the Quirinal. (Did Meester Veelson know that in the peasants' wargrimed houses along the Brenta and the Piave they were burn- ing candles in front of his picture cut out of the illus- trated papers?) (Did Meester Veelson know that the people of Europe spelled a challenge to oppression out of the Fourteen Points as centuries before they had spelled a challenge to oppression out of the ninetyfive articles Martin Luther nailed to the churchdoor in Wittenberg?)
January 18, 1919, in the midst of serried uniforms,248 cocked hats and gold braid, decorations, epaulettes, or- ders of merit and knighthood, the High Contracting Parties, the allied and associated powers met in the Salon de I'Horloge at the quai d'Orsay to dictate the peace,
but the grand assembly of the peace conference was too public a place to make peace in so the High Contracting Parties formed the Council of Ten, went into the Gobelin Room and, surrounded by Rubens's History of Manie de Medici, began to dictate the peace. But the Council of Ten was too public a place to make peace in so they formed the Council of Four. Orlando went home in a huff and then there were three: Clemenceau, Lloyd George, Woodrow Wilson. Three old men shuffling the pack, dealing out the cards: the Rhineland, Danzig, the Polish corridor, the Ruhr, self determination of small nations, the Saar, League of Nations, mandates, the Mespot, Freedom of the Seas, Transjordania, Shantung, Fiume and the Island of Yap: machine gun fire and arson starvation, lice, cholera, typhusi oil was trumps.
Woodrow Wilson believed in his father's God so he told the parishioners in the little Lowther Street Congregational church where his grandfather had preached in Carlisle in Scotland, a day so chilly that
the newspaper men sitting in the old pews all had to keep their overcoats on.
On April 7th he ordered the George Washington to be held at Brest with steam up ready to take the American delegation home;
but he didn't go.
On April 19 sharper Clemenceau. and sharper Lloyd George got him into their little cosy threecard- game they called the Council of Four.
On June 28th the Treaty of Versailles was ready and Wilson had to go back home to explain to the politicians who'd been ganging up on him meanwhile in the Senate and House and to sober public opinion and to his father's God how he'd let himself be trimmed and how far he'd made the world safe for democracy and the New Freedom.
From the day he landed in Hoboken he had his back to the wall of the White House, talking to save his faith in words, talking to save his faith in the League of Nations, talking to save his faith in himself, in his father's God.
He strained every nerve of his body and brain, every agency of the government he had under his control; (if anybody disagreed he was a crook or a red; no pardon for Debs).
In Seattle the wobblies whose leaders were in jail, in Seattle the wobblies whose leaders had been lynched, who'd been shot down like dogs, in Seattle the wobblies lined four blocks as Wilson passed, stood silent with their arms folded staring at the great liberal as he was hurried past in his car, huddled in his over- coat, haggard with fatigue, one side of his face twitch- ing. The men in overalls, the workingstiffs let him
pass in silence after all the other blocks of handclapping and patriotic cheers.
In Pueblo, Colorado, he was a grey man hardly able to stand, one side of his face twitching:
Now that the mists of this great question have cleared away, I believe that men will see the Truth, eye for eye and face to face. There is one thing the American People always rise to and extend their hand to, that is, the truth of justice and of liberty and of peace. We have accepted that truth and we are going to be led by it, and it is going to lead us, and through us the world, out into pastures of quietness and peace such as the world never dreamed of before.
That was his last speech;
on the train to Wichita he had a stroke. He gave up the speaking tour that was to sweep the country for the League of Nations. After that he was a ruined paralysed man barely able to speak; the day he gave up the presidency to Harding the joint committee of the Senate and House appointed Henry Cabot Lodge, his lifelong enemy, to make the formal call at the executive office in the Capitol and ask the formal question whether the president had any message for the congress assembled in joint session; Wilson managed to get to his feet, lifting himself painfully by the two arms of the chair. "Senator Lodge, I have no further communication to make, thank you . . . Good morning," he said.
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