AMBASSADOR MORGENTHAU'S STORY
CHAPTER XV
DJEMAL, A TROUBLESOME MARK ANTONY---THE FIRST GERMAN ATTEMPT TO GET A GERMAN
PEACE
In early November, 1914, the railroad station at Haidar Pasha was the scene of a
great demonstration. Djemal, the Minister of Marine, one of the three men who
were then most powerful in the Turkish Empire, was leaving to take command of
the Fourth Turkish Army, which had its headquarters in Syria. All the members of
the Cabinet and other influential people in Constantinople assembled to give
this departing satrap an enthusiastic farewell. They hailed him as the "Saviour
of Egypt," and Djemal himself, just before his train started, made this public
declaration:
"I shall not return to Constantinople until I have conquered Egypt!"
The whole performance seemed to me to be somewhat bombastic. Inevitably it
called to mind the third member of another bloody triumvirate who, nearly two
thousand years before, had left his native land to become the supreme dictator
of the East. And Djemal had many characteristics in common with Mark Antony.
Like his Roman predecessor, his private life was profligate; like Antony, he was
an insatiate gambler, spending much of his leisure over the card table at the
Cercle d'Orient. Another trait which he had in common with the great Roman
orator was his enormous vanity. The Turkish world seemed to be disintegrating in
Djemal's time, just as the Roman Republic was dissolving in the days of Antony;
Djemal believed that he might himself become the heir of one or more of its
provinces and possibly establish a dynasty. He expected that the military
expedition on which he was now starting would make him not only the conqueror of
Turkey's fairest province, but also one of the powerful figures of the world.
Afterward, in Syria, he ruled as independently as a medieval robber baron---whom
in other details he resembled; he became a kind of sub-sultan, holding his own
court, having his own selamlik, issuing his own orders, dispensing freely his
own kind of justice, and often disregarding the authorities at Constantinople.
The applause with which Djemal's associates were speeding his departure was not
entirely disinterested. The fact was that most of them were exceedingly glad to
see him go. He had been a thorn in the side of Talaat and Enver for some time,
and they were perfectly content that he should exercise his imperious and
stubborn nature against the Syrians, Armenians, and other non-Moslem elements in
the Mediterranean provinces. Djemal was not a popular man in Constantinople. The
other members of the triumvirate, in addition to their less desirable qualities,
had certain attractive traits---Talaat, his rough virility and spontaneous good
nature, Enver, his courage and personal graciousness---but there was little
about Djemal that was pleasing. An American physician who had specialized in the
study of physiognomy had found Djemal a fascinating subject. He told me that he
had never seen a face that so combined ferocity with great power and
penetration. Enver, as his history showed, could be cruel and bloodthirsty, but
he hid his more insidious qualities under a face that was bland, unruffled, and
even agreeable. Djemal, however, did not disguise his tendencies, for his face
clearly pictured the inner soul. His eyes were black and piercing; their
sharpness, the rapidity and keenness with which they darted from one object to
another, taking in apparently everything with a few lightning-like glances,
signalized cunning, remorselessness, and selfishness to an extreme degree. Even
his laugh, which disclosed all his white teeth, was unpleasant and animal-like.
His black hair and black beard, contrasting with his pale face, only heightened
this impression. At first Djemal's figure seemed somewhat insignificant---he was
undersized, almost stumpy, and somewhat stoop-shouldered; as soon as he began to
move, however, it was evident that his body was full of energy. Whenever he
shook your hand, gripping you with a vise-like grasp and looking at you with
those roving, penetrating eyes, the man's personal force became impressive.
Yet, after a momentary meeting, I was not surprised to hear that Djemal was a
man with whom assassination and judicial murder were all part of the day's work.
Like all the Young Turks his origin had been extremely humble. He had joined the
Committee of Union and Progress in the early days, and his personal power, as
well as his relentlessness, had rapidly made him one of the leaders. After the
murder of Nazim, Djemal had become Military Governor of Constantinople, his
chief duty in this post being to remove from the scene the opponents of the
ruling powers. This congenial task he performed with great skill, and the reign
of terror that resulted was largely Djemal's handiwork. Subsequently Djemal
became a member of the Cabinet, but he could not work harmoniously with his
associates; he was always a troublesome partner. In the days preceding the break
with the Entente he was popularly regarded as a Francophile. Whatever feeling
Djemal may have entertained toward the Entente, he made little attempt to
conceal his detestation. of the Germans. It is said that he would swear at them
in their presence---in Turkish, of course; and he was one of the few important
Turkish officials who never came under their influence. The fact was that Djemal
represented that tendency which was rapidly gaining the ascendancy in Turkish
policy---Pan-Turkism. He despised the subject peoples of the Ottoman country---
Arabs, Greeks, Armenians, Circassians, Jews; it was his determination to Turkify
the whole empire. His personal ambition brought him into frequent conflict with
Enver and Talaat, who told me many times that they could not control him. It was
for this reason that, as I have said, they were glad to see him go---not that
they really expected him to capture the Suez Canal and drive the English out of
Egypt. Incidentally, this appointment fairly indicated the incongruous
organization that then existed in Turkey. As Minister of Marine, Djemal's real
place was at the Navy Department; instead of working in his official field the
head of the navy was sent to lead an army over the burning sands of Syria and
Sinai.
Yet Djemal's expedition represented Turkey's most spectacular attempt to assert
its military power against the Allies. As Djemal moved out of the station, the
whole Turkish populace felt that an historic moment had arrived Turkey in less
than a century had lost the greater part of her dominions, and nothing had more
pained the national pride than the English occupation of Egypt. All during this
occupation, Turkish suzerainty had been recognized; as soon as Turkey declared
war on Great Britain, however, the British had ended this fiction and had
formally taken over this great province. Djemal's expedition was Turkey's reply
to this act of England. The real purpose of the war, the Turkish people had been
told, was to restore the vanishing empire of the Osmans, and to this great
undertaking the recovery of Egypt was merely the first step. The Turks also knew
that, under English administration, Egypt had become a prosperous country and
that it would, therefore, yield great treasure to the conqueror. It is no wonder
that the huzzahs of the Turkish people followed the departing Djemal.
About the same time Enver left to take command of Turkey's other great military
enterprise---the attack on Russia through the Caucasus. Here also were Turkish
provinces to be "redeemed." After the war of 1878, Turkey had been compelled to
cede to Russia certain rich territories between the Caspian and the Black seas,
inhabited chiefly by Armenians, and it was this country which Enver now proposed
to reconquer. But Enver had no ovation on his leaving. He went away quietly and
unobserved. With the departure of these two men the war was now fairly on.
Despite these martial enterprises, other than warlike preparations were now
under way in Constantinople. At that time---in the latter part of 1914---its
external characteristics suggested nothing but war, yet now it suddenly became
the great headquarters of peace. The English fleet was constantly threatening
the Dardanelles and every day Turkish troops were passing through the streets.
Yet these activities did not chiefly engage the attention of the German Embassy.
Wangenheim was thinking of one thing and of one thing only; this fire-eating
German had suddenly become a man of peace. For he now learned that the greatest
service which a German ambassador could render his emperor would be to end the
war on terms that would save Germany from exhaustion and even from ruin; to
obtain a settlement that would reinstate his fatherland in the society of
nations.
In November, Wangenheim began discussing this subject. It was part of Germany's
system, he told me, not only to be completely prepared for war but also for
peace. "A wise general, when he begins his campaign, always has at hand his
plans for a retreat, in case he is defeated," said the German Ambassador. "This
principle applies just the same to a nation beginning war. There is only one
certainty about war---and that is that it must end some time. So, when we plan
war, we must consider also a campaign for peace."
But Wangenheim was interested then in something more tangible than this
philosophic principle. Germany had immediate reasons for desiring the end of
hostilities, and Wangenheim discussed them frankly and cynically. He said that
Germany had prepared for only a short war, because she had expected to crush
France and Russia in two brief campaigns, lasting not longer than six months.
Clearly this plan had failed and there was little likelihood that Germany would
win the war; Wangenheim told me this in so many words. Germany, he added, would
make a great mistake if she 'persisted in fighting to the point of exhaustion,
for such a fight would mean the permanent loss of her colonies, her mercantile
marine, and her whole-economic and commercial status. "If we don't get Paris in
thirty days, we are beaten," Wangenheim had told me in August, and though his
attitude changed somewhat after the battle of the Marne, he made no attempt to
conceal the fact that the great rush campaign had collapsed, that all the
Germans could now look forward to was a tedious, exhausting war, and that all
they could obtain from the existing situation would be a drawn battle. "We have
made a mistake this time," Wangenheim. said, "in not laying in supplies for a
protracted struggle; it was an error, however, that we shall not repeat; next
time we shall store up enough copper and cotton to last for five years."
Wangenheim had another reason for wishing an immediate peace, and it was a
reason which shed much light upon the shamelessness of German diplomacy. The
preparation which Turkey was making for the conquest of Egypt caused this German
ambassador much annoyance and anxiety. The interest and energy which the Turks
had manifested in this enterprise were particularly giving him concern.
Naturally I thought at first that Wangenheim. was worried that Turkey would
lose; yet he confided to me that his real fear was that his ally might succeed.
A victorious Turkish campaign in Egypt, Wangenheim explained, might seriously
interfere with Germany's plans. Should Turkey conquer Egypt, naturally Turkey
would insist at the peace table on retaining this great province and would
expect Germany to support her in this claim. But Germany had no intention then
of promoting the reestablishment of the Turkish Empire. At that time she hoped
to reach an understanding with England, the basis of which was to be something
in the nature of a division of interests in the East. Germany desired above all
to obtain Mesopotamia as an indispensable part of her Hamburg-Bagdad scheme. In
return for this, she was prepared to give her endorsement to England's
annexation of Egypt. Thus it was Germany's plan at that time that she and
England should divide Turkey's two fairest dominions. This was one of the
proposals which Germany intended to bring forth in the peace conference which
Wangenheim was now scheming for, and clearly Turkey's conquest of Egypt would
have presented complications in the way of carrying out this plan. On the
morality of Germany's attitude to her ally, Turkey, it is hardly necessary to
comment. The whole thing was all of a piece with Germany's policy of "realism"
in foreign relations.
Nearly all German classes, in the latter part of 1914 and the early part of
1915, were anxiously looking for peace and they turned to Constantinople as the
most promising spot where peace negotiations might most favourably be started,
The Germans took it for granted that President Wilson would be the peacemaker;
indeed, they never for a moment thought of any one 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 the German statesmen 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, afterward 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
described his activities in London in 1913 and 1914, and he figured even more
conspicuously in the infamous 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
one 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 attracted 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 realized 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 forever. France
and England were preparing for the first of the 6 " 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 might 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 which
the other side would regard as ridiculously extravagant. The Entente would state
terms which 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 11, 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:
"We shall have peace within three months, Excellency!"
This little scene took place, and this happy forecast was made, in March, 1915!
Continue >
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TABLE OF CONTENTS  Introduction
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
PLACE YOUR ORDER
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