The last continuation conference assembled at Paris on January 2, 1923, and was attended by three premiers, those of France, Great Britain, and Belgium, and by a substitute for the Italian premier. Its outcome was never in doubt; for the irreconcilable points of view of Great Britain and France toward the problem of reparations had long been evident. Already, on December 26, the Reparations Commission had decided, against the vote of Great Britain, that Germany was in voluntary default in wood deliveries for 1922. The British press for a long time had been pointing out that there was little hope of getting any money out of Germany if a default should be declared, followed by punitive measures.
Poincaré and Bonar Law stated in detail their proposals for dealing with Germany. Both suggested reducing the amount to 50,000,000,000 gold marks, and agreed that if this were done the concession should be accompanied by a demand for comprehensive financial control of Germany. The difference of opinion was over the method of guarantees. Bonar Law asserted that Great Britain would consent to the further occupation of German territory only if Germany defaulted after the revised schedule went into effect, and then only if the Allies were unanimous. This meant, of course, a flat refusal to admit the wisdom of the occupation of the Ruhr Valley. France wanted to pay her debts to Great Britain with reparation bonds issued by the Reparations Commission. Great Britain retaliated by proposing that the French and Italian gold deposited in London during the war as security for advances be now turned over to Great Britain in partial payment of debts due to her. Italy presented again the suggestions made by Mussolini at London three weeks earlier. Mussolini had been in sympathy with the Poincaré program, both as to productive guarantees through occupying more German territory and as to the method by which debtor allies should acquit their obligations to the creditor ally; but the Italian Government was opposed to military action and would not pledge itself to coöperate with France and Belgium in occupying the Ruhr.
On the second day of the conference Poincaré tried in vain to get the British to agree to use the French plan instead of theirs as the basis of discussion, and to admit as an accepted principle, which it was not necessary to discuss, the French contention that any moratorium should be accompanied by the seizure of productive guarantees. Bonar Law retorted that granting these two demands would be equivalent to accepting the French program. In the debate that followed, only two facts emerged clearly: that Great Britain did not believe that the Ruhr occupation would force immense sums of money out of Germany, while France did; and that France had made up her mind to go ahead and take measures against Germany, not only without Great Britain’s aid, but despite Great Britain’s advice. The British premier bowed to the inevitable. He had failed to dissuade Poincaré; Poincaré had failed to persuade him. So they agreed to disagree.
The net result of three years of continuation conferences is well summed up in the comment of a mysterious anonymous writer in the Paris “Figaro,” who wrote on March 31, 1923:
Since the Treaty of Versailles, where is the Entente? Where was the Entente in the ten conferences which ten times had diminished our proper share, and in the shabby dealings which the British have repeatedly resorted to against us? Where is the Entente when the British confiscate our gold, when they keep Mr. Bradsbury [sic] on the Reparations Commission to check our demands, when they establish Lord d’Abernon at Berlin to strengthen the resistance of the Germans?
CHAPTER XXVII
THE UNSHEATHED SWORD OF FRANCE
The American attitude toward post-bellum problems is summed up in the four words cut into the tomb of General Grant. We prefer Grant’s “Let us have peace” to Foch’s “The war is not ended.” The British are even more eager than we to settle European affairs in such a way as to leave no open sores, no burden of long-term military responsibilities on the Continent. Four hundred million people have to live side by side, and, whatever the virtues and sins, certain European nations cannot indefinitely lord it over others, say the British. Those who have been wronged ought to be compensated, those who have been good ought to be rewarded, and those who have been bad ought to be punished; but practical common sense suggests limits to compensations, rewards, and punishments. After the Treaty of Versailles, Germany still has a population one and a half times that of France, and outcast Russia is the largest country of Europe in area, natural resources, and population.
In London and Washington, and to a large extent in Rome, also, there has been a tendency ever since the war to place most of the blame upon France for the unsettled state of affairs in the world. In speeches of statesmen, in interviews with “high officials,” in inspired newspaper articles, Germany has been accused of stupidity and lack of good faith in her tactics. But, coupled with the complaints of Germany’s conduct, hints, inferences, sometimes open charges have abounded that French policy is making the settlement of every problem affecting the rehabilitation of Europe difficult, if not impossible. British, Italians, and Americans, who have served on the various commissions appointed to watch over the execution of the Treaty of Versailles, have been virtually unanimous in condemning the French for obstructionist tactics or an uncompromising attitude in conferences with the Germans; for inspiring the Poles in their foolish ventures; and for intimidating the Belgians into a constantly provocative attitude toward the Germans, against the better judgment of King Albert and his advisers. Informed public opinion has gradually come to feel that the Near Eastern policy of France is cynical and opportunist, and that swash-buckling militarism and the ambition to dominate Europe have changed habitat from Berlin to Paris.
The friends of France protest that their admiration and confidence have not been shaken by what they read. But who does not confess to misgivings about the invasion of the Ruhr? Who does not believe that Lloyd George and Bonar Law have spoken more reasonably than Poincaré? Who does not feel that the unsheathed sword of France is retarding the establishment of peace in Europe and throughout the world?