'Europe lay stricken. The spectres of ruin, starvation, anarchy, hovered about her form. The world was through with war; men groped for light; and from the peoples of the earth a universal cry went up that these things must not be.
'It was our chance. We still were strong. We held the charter of mankind within our hands, and men looked to us. Over prostrate Europe the conquering nations gathered, and men in all the distant corners of the earth listened for the voice of him who would cry in the wilderness that a new age was born.
'Vital days went by. At last the man who spoke for us outlined his plan that all the Powers of the world should join together in a covenant that war should be no more.
'Men waited, and still waited. The plan was argued, ridiculed, applauded—and sucked of its inspiration by talk. Already the agony of Man was hardening into the cynicism of despair. Nations that had bled together grew wary and drew apart.
'And still men waited, for they knew that only America's voice could allay the clamour. Then we spoke. Angered by the methods of our leader, angered by the spirit of revenge that was settling over Europe, angered by delay, once more we failed to see the great truths written across the face of the sun.
'America—debtor to the world—America cried out that she alone of all the nations would stand aloof. Let history gloss it over as it will, we held back the hand of succour that Europe craved for.
'From the land of scented mists came the Japanese; from Greece, that once was first in all the arts; from South America and the countries of Europe, men gathered to the League of Nations, hoping, groping for the light—and we were not there.
'As I write to you, my son, the League is an impotent, powerless thing, at which the men who know only nationality and not humanity sneer and make jest. The body is there—America alone could be the heart.
'Bloodless, helpless, it is in semblance a living thing, but all men know it has no life, and already the diplomats who have no other way are using it as a shield for their methods that cannot bear the light.
'My son, in the hush and loneliness of night, ponder over these words. Because of those things, avoidable and unavoidable, that kept us silent; because so many of us were false to the trusteeship that fell on our generation; because we had not learned that America was greater than Americans, but tried to imprison the spirit of the Republic within the little confines of our souls—because of these things thousands of men were foully done to death. How many Miltons, how many Lincolns, were crucified in that army of the young?