peacemaker; indeed, they never for a moment thought of anyone else in this capacity. The only point that remained for consideration was the best way to approach the President. Such negotiations would most likely be conducted through one of the American Ambassadors in Europe. Obviously Germany had no means of access to the American Ambassadors in the great enemy capitals, and other circumstances induced them to turn to the American Ambassador in Turkey.
At this time a German diplomat appeared in Constantinople who has figured much in recent history—Dr. Richard von Kühlmann, at present Minister for Foreign Affairs. In the last five years Dr. von Kühlmann has seemed to appear in that particular part of the world where important confidential diplomatic negotiations are being conducted by the German Empire. Prince Lichnowsky has recently described his activities in London in 1913 and 1914, and he has figured even more conspicuously in the recent peace treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Soon after the war started, Dr. von Kühlmann came to Constantinople as Conseiller of the German Embassy, succeeding von Mutius, who had been called to the Colours. For one reason his appointment was appropriate, for Kühlmann had been born in Constantinople, and had spent his early life there, his father having been president of the Anatolian railway. He therefore understood the Turks as only a man can who has lived with them for many years. Personally he proved to be an interesting addition to the diplomatic colony. He impressed me as not a particularly aggressive, but a very entertaining, man; he apparently wished to become friendly with the American Embassy, and he possessed a certain attraction for us all, as he had just come from the trenches and gave us many vivid pictures of life at the front. At that time we were all keenly interested in modern warfare, and Kühlmann’s details of trench fighting held us spellbound many an afternoon and evening. His other favourite topic of conversation was Welt-Politik, and on all foreign matters he struck me as remarkably well-informed. At that time we did not regard von Kühlmann as an important man, yet the industry with which he attended to his business arrested everyone’s attention even then. Soon, however, I began to have a feeling that he was exerting a powerful influence in a quiet, velvety kind of way. He said little, but I realised that he was listening to everything and storing all kinds of information away in his mind. He was apparently Wangenheim’s closest confidant, and the man upon whom the Ambassador was depending for his contact with the German Foreign Office. About the middle of December von Kühlmann left for Berlin, where he stayed about two weeks. On his return, in the early part of January, 1915, there was a noticeable change in the atmosphere of the German Embassy. Up to that time Wangenheim had discussed peace negotiations more or less informally, but now he took up the matter specifically. I gathered that Kühlmann had been called to Berlin to receive all the latest details on this subject, and that he had come back with the definite instructions that Wangenheim should move at once. In all my talks with the German Ambassador on peace Kühlmann was always hovering in the background; at one most important conference he was present, though he participated hardly at all in the conversation, but his rôle, as usual, was that of a subordinate and quietly eager listener.
Wangenheim now informed me that January, 1915, would be an excellent time to end the war. Italy had not yet entered, though there was every reason to believe that she would do so by spring. Bulgaria and Rumania were still holding aloof, though no one expected that their waiting attitude would last for ever. France and England were preparing for the first of the “spring offensives,” and the Germans had no assurance that it would not succeed; indeed, they much feared that the German armies would meet disaster. The British and French warships were gathering at the Dardanelles, and the German General Staff and practically all military and naval experts in Constantinople believed that the Allied fleets could force their way through and capture the city. Most Turks by this time were sick of the war, and Germany always had in mind that Turkey would make a separate peace. Afterward I discovered that whenever the military situation looked ominous to Germany she was always thinking about peace, but that if the situation improved she would immediately become warlike again; it was a case of sick-devil, well-devil. Yet, badly as Wangenheim wanted peace in January, 1915, it was quite apparent that he was not thinking of a permanent peace. The greatest obstacle to peace at that time was the fact that Germany showed no signs that she regretted her crimes, and there was not the slightest evidence of the sackcloth in Wangenheim’s attitude now. Germany had made a bad guess, that was all. What Wangenheim and the other Germans saw in the situation was that their stock of wheat, cotton, and copper was inadequate for a protracted struggle. In my notes of my conversations with Wangenheim I find him frequently using such phrases as the “next war,” “next time,” and, in confidently looking forward to another greater world cataclysm than the present, he merely reflected the attitude of the dominant junker-military class. The Germans apparently wanted a reconciliation—a kind of an armistice—that would give their generals and industrial leaders time to prepare for the next conflict. At that time, nearly four years ago, Germany was moving for practically the same kind of peace negotiations which she has suggested many times since and is suggesting now. Wangenheim’s plan was that representatives of the warring Powers should gather around a table and settle things on the principle of “give and take.” He said that there was no sense in demanding that each side state its terms in advance.
“For both sides to state their terms in advance would ruin the whole thing,” he said. “What would we do? Germany, of course, would make claims that the other side would regard as ridiculously extravagant. The Entente would state terms that would put all Germany in a rage. As a result, both sides would get so angry that there would be no conference. No—if we really want to end this war we must have an armistice. Once we stop fighting, we shall not go at it again. History presents no instance in a great war where an armistice has not resulted in peace. It will be so in this case.”
Yet, from Wangenheim’s conversation I did obtain a slight inkling of Germany’s terms. The matter of Egypt and Mesopotamia, set forth above, was one of them. Wangenheim was quite insistent that Germany must have permanent naval bases in Belgium with which her navy could at all times threaten England with blockade, and so make sure “the freedom of the seas.” Germany wanted coaling rights everywhere; this demand looks absurd, because Germany has always possessed such rights in peace times. She might give France a piece of Lorraine, and a part of Belgium—perhaps Brussels—in return for the payment of an indemnity.
Wangenheim requested that I should place Germany’s case before the American Government. My letter to Washington is dated January, 1915. It went fully into the internal situation which then prevailed and gave the reasons why Germany and Turkey desired peace.
A particularly interesting part of this incident was that Germany was apparently ignoring Austria. Pallavicini, the Austrian Ambassador, knew nothing of the pending negotiations until I myself informed him of them. In thus ignoring his ally, the German Ambassador meant no personal disrespect; he was merely treating him precisely as his Foreign Office was treating Vienna—not as an equal, but practically as a retainer. The world is familiar enough with Germany’s military and diplomatic absorption of Austria-Hungary. But that Wangenheim should have made so important a move as to attempt peace negotiations, and have left it to Pallavicini to learn about it through a third party, shows that, as far back as January, 1915, the Austro-Hungarian Empire had ceased to be an independent nation.
Nothing came of this proposal, of course. Our Government declined to take action, evidently not regarding the time as opportune. Both Germany and Turkey, as I shall tell, recurred to this subject afterward. This particular negotiation ended in the latter part of March, when Kühlmann left Constantinople to become Minister at The Hague. He came and paid his farewell call at the American Embassy, as charming, as entertaining, and as debonair as ever. His last words, as he shook my hand and left the building, were—subsequent events have naturally caused me to remember them: