Paris 1919 - Margaret Macmillan [131]
On April 3 Wilson took to his bed with a bad cold and House took his place at the Council of Four. Clemenceau was delighted: “He is worse today,” he said to Lloyd George on April 5. “Do you know his doctor? Couldn’t you get round him & bribe him?” In his sickroom, the invalid brooded. “I have been doing a lot of thinking,” Wilson told Grayson, “thinking what would be the outcome on the world if these French politicians were given a free-hand and allowed to have their way and secure all that they claim France is entitled to. My opinion is that if they had their way the world would go to pieces in a very short while.” He had come, he said, looking relieved, to a decision. He asked Grayson to arrange for the George Washington to be ready at Brest, on the Brittany coast. “I don’t want to say that I am going as soon as I can get a boat; I want the boat to be here.” The next day the news had leaked out, as no doubt Wilson intended it should. His threat caused a sensation. “Peace Conference at Crisis,” said the New York Times headline.14
The French downplayed it. “Wilson acts like a cook,” joked Clemenceau to a friend, “who keeps her trunk ready in the hallway. Every day he threatens to leave.” A spokesman for the Quai d’Orsay talked rudely about “going home to mother.” In fact, the French were extremely worried. The censors kept comment in the French papers to a minimum and Le Temps, well known to have close links to official circles, hastily printed a story saying that France had no intention of annexing any territory inhabited by Germans. Tardieu’s assistant gave a statement to American correspondents saying that France had reduced its demands to a minimum and was perfectly content, as it had been all along, to accept the frontiers of 1871, which included Alsace-Lorraine but nothing more. (This caused a certain amount of amusement.15)
These concessions came at a considerable cost politically. Deputies and senators urged Clemenceau to stand firm on France’s legitimate demands. Foch inspired a press campaign demanding the occupation of the Rhineland. The generalissimo was coming perilously close to open defiance, refusing to transmit orders from the Council of Four and demanding to speak to the French cabinet. This, in a country with a lively tradition of attempted military coups, was alarming. It was also embarrassing. “I would not trust the American army,” said Wilson after one incident, “to a general who does not obey his own government.”16
Leading politicians, journalists and soldiers went to warn Poincaré that France was heading for disaster. Clemenceau was throwing away any chance of security against Germany. Perhaps Poincaré should resign in protest. Or was it his duty, as Foch and others urged, to use his powers under the constitution to take over the negotiations himself? Poincaré, as was typical of him, joined the criticism but hesitated to take action. Clemenceau, whose sources of information were always good, came to the Elysée Palace and made a tremendous scene, accusing the president of disloyalty. “All your friends are against me,” he shouted. “I have had enough. I am in discussions every day, from morning to night. I am killing myself.” He offered his resignation. Poincaré protested: “I have never stopped being loyal, that goes without saying; but, beyond that, I have been devoted, and, to say the word, filial.” Clemenceau accused him of lying. Poincaré responded with outrage. “Well, you see,” Clemenceau shot back, “you reply to me with insolence!” Somehow,