The march of events went on irresistibly. At 8.35 o'clock on the evening of Monday, April 2, 1917, President Wilson appeared before a joint session of the Senate and House of Representatives. He had addressed the Congress in person several times during his terms of office, but never under circumstances or in a setting more dramatic. The streets leading to the Capitol were packed with vast throngs. White searchlights etched the dome and the pillars against the sky, revealing the Stars and Stripes waving in the breeze on the flagstaff above the dome. Two troops of United States cavalry in dress uniform, with sabers drawn, formed a guard round the House approaches. Hundreds of police, in uniform and in plain clothes, were scattered along the route followed by the President's automobile from the White House. Inside the House, which had been in almost continuous session all day, the members assembled to receive the President. The senators appeared carrying little American flags. The Diplomatic Corps, the whole Supreme Court—in fact, the entire personnel of the Government, legislative, judicial, and executive—gathered to hear the head of the American nation present its indictment against the Imperial Government of Germany.
The President was visibly nervous. He was pale. His voice was neither strong nor clear. He appeared to be deeply affected by the epochal and awesome character of his task. His distinguished audience listened in profound silence as he stated America's case without bluster and without rancor. The burden of his address was a request that the House and Senate recognize that Germany had been making war on the United States and that they agree to his recommendations, which included a declaration that a state of war existed, that universal military service be instituted, that a preliminary army of 500,000 be raised, and that the United States at once cooperate with the Allied Powers as a belligerent in every way that would operate to effect the defeat of Germany as a disturber of the world's peace.
In adopting ruthless submarine warfare, the President told Congress, Germany had swept every restriction aside:
"Vessels of every kind, whatever their flag, their character, their cargo, their destination, their errand, have been ruthlessly sent to the bottom without warning and without thought of help or mercy for those on board, the vessels of friendly neutrals along with those of belligerents. Even hospital ships and ships carrying relief to the sorely bereaved and stricken people of Belgium, though the latter were provided with safe conduct through the proscribed areas by the German Government itself and were distinguished by unmistakable marks of identity, have been sunk with the same reckless lack of compassion or of principle.
"It is a war against all nations. American ships have been sunk, American lives taken, in ways which it has stirred us very deeply to learn of, but the ships and people of other neutral and friendly nations have been sunk and overwhelmed in the waters in the same way. There has been no discrimination.
"The challenge is to all mankind. Each nation must decide for itself how it will meet it."
Here the President referred to the short-lived expedient of armed neutrality adopted to meet the challenge:
"When I addressed the Congress on the 26th of February last I thought that it would suffice to assert our neutral rights with arms, our right to use the seas against unlawful interference, our right to keep our people safe against unlawful violence. But armed neutrality, it now appears, is impracticable.
"The German Government denies the right of neutrals to use arms at all within the areas of the sea which it has proscribed, even in the defense of rights which no modern publicist has ever before questioned their right to defend. The intimation is conveyed that the armed guards which we have placed on our merchant ships will be treated as beyond the pale of law and subject to be dealt with as pirates would be. Armed neutrality is ineffectual enough at best; in such circumstances and in the face of such pretensions it is worse than ineffectual; it is likely only to produce what it was meant to prevent; it is practically certain to draw us into the war without either the rights or the effectiveness of belligerents. There is one choice we cannot make, we are incapable of making; we will not choose the path of submission—"
The President's audience had listened in silence up to this point. There was more of the sentence; but Congress did not wait to hear it. At the word "submission," Chief Justice White of the Supreme Court raised his hands in a resounding clap, which was the signal for a deafening roar of approval alike from congressmen, senators, and the occupants of the crowded galleries.