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The Armistice
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This chapter examines the military collapse of Germany, the
Turkish Armistice, Austria-Hungary follow, Germany's isolation, Prince Max of
Baden makes overtures for peace, President Wilson's reply, Allied military
conference in Paris, German armistice delegates arrive at Rethondes, the
Armistice signed, its terms, reception in Germany and England
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While the central Government is in this irregular and uncertain position, revolutionary movements are succeeding all over the Empire. Crowns and ducal hats are falling upon all sides; everywhere the dynasts are in flight. Peace and food, a Constituent Assembly, and a democratic Republic are the popular demands. The Kaiser is deserted and denounced by the people whose idol he was until disaster overtook him. All that he taught and all that he embodied is execrated and denounced. Never has Europe witnessed a ruin so immense and so sudden. We must recall the fate of Xerxes or of Darius for a parallel. The downfall of Napoleon was slow and gradual compared to this.
It is but last spring, as the Prime Minister reminded us in his fine speech on Saturday, since the Monarch who has fallen and the State which is in dissolution were a deadly menace to us. Our lines were broken, the Channel ports were threatened, the spearhead was being driven into the heart of France. Only four months ago the enemy were again across the Marne. At the end of September they were still declaring that they would permit none to interfere with their arrangements for the domination of East Europe, and explaining why they were good enough to forgo direct indemnities from us. The leaves have fallen, and they are suing for peace.
So ends, if they are not reckless enough to provoke further punishment, the “fresh and joyous” war which was to bring the hosts of the Kaiser victorious to Paris four autumns ago. One after another their allies have begged for terms and have accepted them. Germany is utterly alone, beaten in the field by the foes she despised, with her sailors and with thousands of her soldiers in mutiny, her people in insurrection under the red flag, her destinies in untried hands. Well may Mr Lloyd George ask if the world has ever witnessed a judgment more dramatic than the tragedy we behold. In a few weeks the work of half a century has been undone. Germany put her whole faith in the Realpolitik of the Hohenzollerns, in the policy of mingled cunning, brute force, and grasping ambition, traditional in that House for hundreds of years; the policy that seemed to culminate in the triumphs of Bismarck and Moltke. It has broken in her hand. It has lured her to ruin. “Prussian militarism” is no more.
An immense relief, a joy too solemn and too deep for words, a profound thankfulness to “the only Giver of all victory”, are in our hearts today. A sober pride in our countrymen and countrywomen of all sorts and conditions, exultation in the unsurpassed heroism of our sailors and our soldiers, to whose wonderful qualities under all trials Sir Eric Geddes and Lord Milner bore witness on Saturday, a heartfelt sorrow and sympathy for those who mourn their dead and their wounded, rise in our minds, but above them, in these first hours, the measureless significance of the events we behold weighs us down. “We have never lived in such days,” said the Prime Minister. Mankind has never lived in such days. It has never faced a greater peril. It has never been so suddenly and so completely delivered. It has never been saved in circumstances so dramatic. For the fall of “militarism” has been like the course of a Greek tragedy. The overweening pride of the predestined victims, the seeming promise of supreme success, the slow working of the great moral forces which bring down the stroke, the fell completeness of the final blow, and its minute appropriateness to the sin that provoked it, are reproduced on this great stage of the world with curious exactness.
It is at Sedan, where “Prussian militarism” received its final consecration by the German people, that the net closes round the greatest armies Germany ever levied. It is at Mons, where these armies trampled upon the old “contemptibles”, that their successors end the war. It is from Versailles,where the Empire of the Hohenzollerns, welded by blood and iron, was proclaimed, that the terms are dictated which have sealed its fate. We are not, Mr Lloyd George said, a vindictive people, and we are a sane people. We sincerely hope that the internal trouble through which Germany is passing may result in the establishment of a firm and a free Government in accordance with the wishes and the true interests of her peoples; but we cannot forget and we cannot forgo the precautions and the guarantees which our knowledge of Germany’s past convinces us to be essential. “We mean to have no Hundred Days.” We remember that all Germany gave her full assent to the war which has bathed the world in blood and tears for four years, and that it is failure alone which now leads her to abjure it. We shall do no wrong, but we will abandon no right. Justice must be satisfied, and justice demands a stern reckoning for guilt. so deliberate, so obdurate, and so great.
What may be the course of the revolution among our enemies it is not yet possible to surmise. Will it take a form comparatively orderly and constitutional, or will it fulfil the terrible prophecy of Heine, made some eighty years ago, and surpass in horror and in violence the worst excesses which disgraced the fall of the old French Monarchy? The symptoms are ambiguous. On the one hand, the leaders of the Socialist parties, now apparently working together, are endeavouring to direct the storm into more or less regular paths, and to keep order in some form until the nation has spoken at the polls. We hear, too, from some big cities that steps have been taken to protect public and private property and to punish marauders. But from many other places reports of pillage and wanton destruction, and of the murder of officers and civilians, come to hand.
The proceedings of the revolutionaries are of the same general character and result in the establishment of provisional councils of “workers and soldiers”, who assume the government and declare for a Republic. There is, however, nothing yet to show whether these outbursts are merely sporadic, or the outcome of a system under central control. The new rulers of Germany, be they who they may, have a terrible task to perform in the reconstruction of a starving, defeated, and embittered nation, now thoroughly out of hand. At home, as in the battlefield, that “Prussian militarism” which we set out “wholly and finally to destroy” is reaping as it has sown. As we look upon the harvest, we recognize the truth long since proclaimed by a great poet of the old Germany which flourished before the baneful shadow had fallen over her - “Die Weltgeschichte ist das Weltgericht.” In that world-court “Prussian militarism” has been tried, convicted, and condemned.
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Our First Duty
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Our enemy is laid low, and we stand, as the Prime Minister has
said, higher than we have ever stood before. It behoves us to show ourselves
great in the hour of triumph
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The happy close of hostilities in this greatest and most terrible of all wars, fought for everything that we hold dear and sacred, led the Prime Minister yesterday to move the adjournment of the House of Commons to St Margaret’s, there to give humble and reverent thanks to the Almighty for this great deliverance. It was a fitting commemoration, in keeping with our national traditions, of the mercy vouchsafed to us. The crowded service at St Paul’s in the afternoon, and the more formal thanksgiving to be celebrated to-day in the presence of the King and Queen, are evidence that the action of the House reflects the solemn thoughts of the nation on this wonderful event in the world’s history.
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The terms of the armistice, which, it need hardly be observed, are purely military and naval and do not affect the conditions of peace, are unquestionably adequate, but we cannot see that any could have been safely dispensed with. Those relating to the evacuation of the countries and districts belonging to other Powers on the West and East fronts are a matter of course; so are the provisions for the repatriation without reciprocity of prisoners and civilian Allies, for the surrender of guns and war material - 5,000 guns and 30,000 machine guns “in good condition” are to be delivered up on the West front - for the surrender of German submarines and the disarmament and internment of German battleships, and for such consequential measures as the discovery and destruction of mines by sea and land. The ships to be disarmed include ten battleships, six light cruisers, and fifty destroyers.
So ends the fallen Kaiser’s effort to grasp the trident. Other measures not less essential are the occupation of Mainz, Coblenz, and Cologne, with the bridgeheads across the Rhine at these important strategic points, the establishment of a neutral zone on the right bank, and the evacuation by Germany of the whole of the left bank. The delivery of 5,000 locomotives, 150,000 railway wagons, and 5,000 motor-lorries in good condition, and the provision that none of the means of communication shall be impaired will also be noted 83 measures of ordinary prudence in the circumstances. The barbarous methods of “militarism” have compelled the Allies to insist that the enemy command shall disclose any such measures as the poisoning or pollution of wells which they may have ordered, and shall refrain from further acts of destruction. On the East front they require free access to the former territories of Russia,through Danzig or by the Vistula for the purpose of provisioning the populations and for the maintenance of order, and also free access to the Baltic and the right to occupy the fortifications at the entrance to that sea.
The Treaties of Brest-Litovsk and of Bukarest, with their supplements, are abandoned, and the financial provisions demand reparation and the restoration of the gold looted from Belgium and Russia. It is also provided that the Allied troops occupying the Rhine provinces shall be a charge upon Germany. No loophole, it will be seen, is left her to escape from the obligations imposed upon her. Heligoland itself may be occupied, should the mutiny of her Fleet prevent the delivery of the ships. The insolent message issued by some of the mutineers bidding their comrades to resist proves the wisdom of the precaution.
Our enemy is laid low, and we stand, as the Prime Minister has said, higher than we have ever stood before. It behoves us to show ourselves great in the hour of triumph; to take large views of the immense problems with which victory confronts us and to handle them as becomes us with the calm wisdom of our fathers. When last we vindicated the liberty of the world against military despotism there was a party in the Cabinet which desired to obtain material advantages, but the sagacity of Wellington and of Castlereagh led them to fix their gaze on the future of Europe as a whole and to repudiate demands which would have tended to subvert it.
It is too soon for any revulsion of feeling towards the people who have brought this awful calamity upon the world and who have aggravated in a thousand ways unknown to civilized peoples the inevitable horrors of war. We drew the sword without hatred or passion because Germany compelled us to draw it, but the inexpiable brutalities which she perpetrated so long as she had the power, and against which no classes of her people dared to protest, have filled us with a loathing and a righteous indignation which will not readily pass away. She has been false and cruel. She must bear the penalty in our mistrust and in our abhorrence. Pleas like that which Dr Solf has addressed to President Wilson leave us quite unmoved, andy we doubt not, will leave Americans quite unmoved. It is not three months since this man, as Colonial Secretary in the Imperial Government, was declaring that the Brest Litovsk Treaty came by agreement, denouncing the Czecho-Slovaks as “landless robbers” and demanding the return of the German colonies with a repartition of Africa to suit her interests. Now he cries out that the “fearful conditions” of the armistice will lead to starvation in Germany, especially as the blockade is to continue, and he appeals most “solemnly and in all earnestness” to the President to avert the creation in Germany of “feelings contrary to those upon which alone the reconstruction of the community of nations can rest.”
This is a contemptible attempt at mischief-making. Dr Solf has but to look at the armistice in order to see that “the Allies and the United States contemplate the provisioning of Germany during the armistice as shall be necessary.” That is both right and wise. It is our plain interest to do what in us lies to preserve stable government in Germany, if only to have some responsible authority with whom to deal. We can neither carry out the armistice nor negotiate the peace without an established Government of some kind. The internal situation in Germany, as we show in another article, is precarious. The negotiations between the Majority Socialists and the more “advanced” group reveal profound. differences of opinion and of policy, and beyond the so-called “Minority section” there stand elements dangerous to all social order.
Hindenburg states that he and his Army are supporting the new Government in order to save Germany from “chaos”. No great nation in a state of “chaos” can afford the basis for a just peace, and to obtain that basis is at this moment a problem far more urgent than individual problems of territorial adjustment. Under the secure guarantees afforded by the armistice these latter questions can wait. The. question of European order cannot wait. Its settlement is a condition precedent not only to anything resembling a League of Nations, but to peace at all.
For that reason it is the first present duty and the highest present interest of all the Allies to work for a general restoration of free and orderly government. And for that reason it should be understood in all quarters that any private squabbling between States or peoples, any attempt to snatch territorial or other advantages and to present them to the world as accomplished facts,will have for its inevitable result the creation of a general prejudice against the offender when her claims como under review. The “Cease fire” of yesterday must be final and universal.
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Rejoicing in the streets
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Sedate, elderly ladies did not leave the flapping to the
"flappers". With some of them the red, white, and blue rested on a
background of dead black, and their rejoicing was rather tearful
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Londoners went to business early yesterday morning, wondering. They told one another it would not matter much whether the Armistice were signed or not, since Germany must accept something drastic sooner or later; but in their heart of hearts they wanted to hear of preliminaries being arranged without delay. They settled down to work with what concentration they could muster. Soon, however, a whisper spread. Then came a bang from the maroons. And then …
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Others whose daily task called them to town rather later had a similar experience, but diversified. The story of how the unbelievable promise of peace descended upon one man will serve for many. He was on a tramway car, and heard a passenger behind him mutter words which sounded like “They’ve done it.”
The girl conductor, speaking as though the thing didn’t concern her, said, “Oh, they have, have they?” and went on punching tickets. Could what they had done be peace? “Bang, bang,” burst in on the reflection. It was either an air raid or rejoicing; and an assault by the enemy seemed unlikely in the circumstances. Still, people looked a little scared, not having heard the official promise as to celebration. The car went on its way, and presently familiar sounds were borne on the air. Broken windedly the truth will out - a bugle was blowing “All clear! All clear!”
In the West End, they say, a policemen held the bugle; but here the musician was a red-headed, russet-faced boy on a bicycle. He blew as if he had resolved on doing nothing else for the term of his natural life. After that there could be no doubt. A. serious-faced man offered the opinion that no work would be done that day, and added that he himself was an hour late, but didn’t care, anyhow.
LONDON BEFLAGGED.
He spoke the thoughts of some millions of people. Employed or employers, they didn’t care, anyhow. At the windows of offices I where discipline is understood to be usually most strict appeared smiling faces of men and women, youths and girls. Whether the windows belonged to private concerns or government departments, they were all alike. And soon the smiling faces came down into the streets, and from the. City to the West End their places at the windows were taken by flags: the flags of the Allies, broad and spreading. Never was so complete a show of really handsome bunting. As soon as the Union Jack was run up at the Royal Exchange rockets were let off by City men, who had them handy. The solid Mansion House caught the contagion of enthusiasm, and the new Lord Mayor, happily interrupted on his way to the magisterial bench, went to the steps and addressed the assembled throng, congratulating them that four years of strenuous work had come to an end and reminding them of the problems of peace that now. arise. In conclusion he called for three cheers for the King. When these had been given others for the Navy and Army followed, and the first verse of the National Anthem and the Doxology were afterwards sung.
Where the sellers of smaller flags sprang from so suddenly, none can tell. In half an hour or so every man, woman, and child seemed to be wearing the emblem of one or another of the Allies. They wore them of all sizes and in every shape. Some twisted them round their hats, others stuck the small staves in their buttonholes. Dominion soldiers favoured this way. But there was one, Australian, whose tunic and slouch hat were a kindy soil for the blossoming of tiny flags. They embroidered him everywhere, till at last, apparently despairing of finding another plot, the man had fixed one to his chin strap. Women waved and wore their flags as luxuriantly as men. Nor had the young a monopoly of this exuberance. Sedate, elderly ladies did not leave the flapping to the “flappers”. With some of them the red, white, and blue rested on a background of dead black, and their rejoicing was rather tearful. These women were mute reminders not only of the cost of victory, but of the determination of so many, now as during four years of war, to put the nation before the individual, to surrender self to country.
THE “JOY-RIDERS”
From the pavements, where was a slow-moving mass of flags, salutations were waved and shouted to a strange medley in the road. For once in a way there was quite a lot of room inside the omnibuses; the top was where everyone wanted to be. Regulations forgotten, the tops were crammed, and the passengers flowed over to the space intended only for the shelter of the driver. Here you would see a wounded soldier with the direction-board in the hand which lacked a flag; or a sailor hanging precariously as on a ship’s mast; or, occasionally, an intrepid girl. An omnibus on which was chalked “Free to Berlin,” was followed by a storm of cheers. The ordinary passenger - if any were ordinary on this occasion - must have blushed at riding through the streets of London like the satellite of a Roman conqueror in his triumph.
Taxi-cabs were as defiant of official prohibitions as omnibuses. They carried as many people as could sit, stand, or drag on them; not one less-. The correct thing, however, was not to be more comfortable than was necessary. You must stand, if possible, and climb to the most elevated position the vehicle could afford. Arrived there, you would, as a matter of course, shout and cheer till your voice failed.
A few cars in the Strand bore nurses in their indoor uniforms, who, after a short tour of the streets, returned to their hospitals with a sense of duty done. Probably the men who accompanied them were medical students. One fancies there must have been medical students who marched down the Charing-cross-road in strange and fearful attire, headed by one who bore on a pole a skull with the device “Hoch der Kaiser!” This was too macabre for any but medical students or ghosts from the Middle Ages, and the noise that the procession made was anything but ghostly.
VEHICLES FROM EVERYWHERE
Great Government lorries, Army and Navy, carried loads of sailors, soldiers, and girls, instead of munitions of war. None of the cheers were so hearty as those which greeted these vehicles. But they had as close rivals the motors chartered by Dominion and American soldiers with the flags, too big for the cars as a rule, of their respective’ countries. The Stars and Stripes played a good second to the Union Jack and.the Australian standard; it cropped up everywhere and was everywhere saluted familiarly but with the honour due.
As for the lorries, the carts, the wagons, and the vehicles of most kinds which appeared to have been commandeered from private firms for the delectation of their employees and friends, they were innumerable, and the same in no feature lent the hilarity of the packed human burdens they bore along to a strident tune of thanksgiving.’ Even dogs were made to take their share of the national colours. One dog had them tied to his tail - a glory he failed to appreciate; while another, swaddled in them, developed a rolling trot consistent with an approach to canine dignity, as though he were saying to himself “Master’s happy, so I must humour him.”
These, however, were not so touching in their immolation as the very elderly gentlemen who puffed out their cheeks in a vain endeavour to produce noise from trumpets which refused to heard, or decorated themselves like the creatures of a nightmare. Or was the climax of human forgetfulness of ordinary proprieties reached by the well-dressed and most respectable ladies who found the top or the step of a taxicab the summit of maidenly ambition?
The crowds were thick and vociferous, and in the main well behaved, in every quarter. They enjoyed themselves while it was fine, and when the rain began to fall heavily they were not dismayed. Nowhere were they more numerous than before the Royal Exchange and in Trafalgar-square. Round Nelson’s Column and the parapets they climbed and held on, like the people on omnibus foretops, by their teeth. They strove commendably to sing the “Marseillaise” with adequate frenzy, and delighted in the music of a cornet player who did wonders with “Auld Lang ‘Syne.”
Now and then one came on excited girls dancing in a ring on the footpath, and late in the afternoon, near Victoria, a rare barrel-organ proved a boon to those whom the spirit moved to an exhibition of agility. Somehow these dancers, keeping as they did within limits not very inconvenient to passers-by, struck one as enviable above most in the crowds. They had found adequate expression for their gladness. The others wanted to say something for which they could discover neither words nor gestures. Their songs - when they tried to sing them amid the tumult - proved ineloquent, and they yelled in very poverty of other expression. It was an inarticulate people which genuinely and with comparative soberness made the streets merry. Yet, after all, this may have been the most dramatic way in which vent could be given to sudden joy after years of depression and restraint. Human nature is tongue-tied at its greatest moments; and London with a great moment to celebrate abandoned the hope of suitable words and made festival by the ringing of handbells, the hooting of motors, the screaming of whistles, the rattling of tin-trays, and the banging of anything that could be banged.
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