Woodrow Wilson was the first American president ever to leave the country during his term of office.
He sailed from New York on December 4. Nine days later Gus was waiting for him at the quayside in Brest, on the western tip of the Brittany panhandle. At midday the mist cleared and the sun came out, for the first time in days. In the bay, battleships from the French, British, and American navies formed an honor guard through which the president steamed in a U.S. Navy transport ship, the George Washington. Guns thundered a salute, and a band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
It was a solemn moment for Gus. Wilson had come here to make sure there would never be another war like the one just ended. Wilson’s Fourteen Points, and his League of Nations, were intended to change forever the way nations resolved their conflicts. It was a stratospheric ambition. In the history of human civilization, no politician had ever aimed so high. If he succeeded, the world would be made new.
At three in the afternoon the first lady, Edith Wilson, walked down the gangplank on the arm of General Pershing, followed by the president in a top hat.
The town of Brest received Wilson as a conquering hero. Vive Wilson, said the banners, Defenseur du Droit des Peuples; Long Live Wilson, Defender of People’s Rights. Every building flew the Stars and Stripes. Crowds jammed the sidewalks, many of the women wearing the traditional Breton tall lace headdress. The sound of Breton bagpipes was everywhere. Gus could have done without the bagpipes.
The French foreign minister made a speech of welcome. Gus stood with the American journalists. He noticed a small woman wearing a big fur hat. She turned her head, and he saw that her pretty face was marred by one permanently closed eye. He smiled with delight: it was Rosa Hellman. He looked forward to hearing her view of the peace conference.
After the speeches, the entire presidential party boarded the night train for the four-hundred-mile journey to Paris. The president shook Gus’s hand and said: “Glad to have you back on the team, Gus.”
Wilson wanted familiar associates around him for the Paris Peace Conference. His main adviser would be Colonel House, the pale Texan who had been unofficially counseling him on foreign policy for years. Gus would be the junior member of the crew.
Wilson looked weary, and he and Edith retired to their suite. Gus was concerned. He had heard rumors that the president’s health was poor. Back in 1906 a blood vessel had burst behind Wilson’s left eye, causing temporary blindness, and the doctors had diagnosed high blood pressure and advised him to retire. Wilson had cheerfully ignored their advice and gone on to become president, of course-but lately he had been suffering from headaches that might be a new symptom of the same blood pressure problem. The peace conference would be taxing: Gus hoped Wilson could stand it.
Rosa was on the train. Gus sat opposite her on the brocaded upholstery in the dining car. “I wondered whether I might see you,” she said. She seemed pleased they had met.
“I’m on detachment from the army,” said Gus, who was still wearing the uniform of a captain.
“Back home, Wilson has been walloped for his choice of colleagues. Not you, of course-”
“I’m a small fish.”
“But some people say he should not have brought his wife.”
Gus shrugged. It seemed trivial. After the battlefield it was going to be difficult to take seriously some of the stuff people worried about in peacetime.
Rosa said: “More importantly, he hasn’t brought any Republicans.”
“He wants allies on his team, not enemies,” Gus said indignantly.
“He needs allies back home, too,” Rosa said. “He’s lost Congress.”
She had a point, and Gus was reminded how smart she was. The midterm elections had been disastrous for Wilson. The Republicans had gained control of the Senate and the House of Representatives. “How did that happen?” he said. “I’ve been out of touch.”
“Ordinary people are fed up with rationing and high prices, and the end of the war came just a bit too late to help. And liberals hate the Espionage Act. It allowed Wilson to jail people who disagreed with the war. He used it, too-Eugene Debs was sentenced to ten years.” Debs had been a presidential candidate for the Socialists. Rosa sounded angry as she said: “You can’t put your opponents in jail and still pretend to believe in freedom.”
Gus remembered how much he enjoyed the cut and thrust of an argument with Rosa. “Freedom sometimes has to be compromised in war,” he said.
“Obviously American voters don’t think so. And there’s another thing: Wilson segregated his Washington offices.”
Gus did not know whether Negroes could ever be raised to the level of white people but, like most liberal Americans, he thought the way to find out was to give them better chances in life and see what happened. However, Wilson and his wife were Southerners, and felt differently. “Edith won’t take her maid to London, for fear the girl will get spoiled,” Gus said. “She says British people are too polite to Negroes.”
“Woodrow Wilson is no longer the darling of the left in America,” Rosa concluded. “Which means he’s going to need Republican support for his League of Nations.”
“I suppose Henry Cabot Lodge feels snubbed.” Lodge was a right-wing Republican.
“You know politicians,” Rosa said. “They’re as sensitive as schoolgirls, and more vengeful. Lodge is chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Wilson should have brought him to Paris.”
Gus protested: “Lodge is against the whole idea of the League of Nations!”
“The ability to listen to smart people who disagree with you is a rare talent-but a president should have it. And bringing Lodge here would have neutralized him. As a member of the team, he couldn’t go home and fight against whatever is agreed in Paris.”
Gus guessed she was right. But Wilson was an idealist who believed that the force of righteousness would overcome all obstacles. He underestimated the need to flatter, cajole, and seduce.
The food was good, in honor of the president. They had fresh sole from the Atlantic in a buttery sauce. Gus had not eaten so well since before the war. He was amused to see Rosa tuck in heartily. She was a petite figure: where did she put it all?
At the end of the meal they were served strong coffee in small cups. Gus found he did not want to leave Rosa and retire to his sleeping compartment. He was much too interested in talking to her. “Wilson will be in a strong position in Paris, anyway,” he said.
Rosa looked skeptical. “How so?”
“Well, first of all we won the war for them.”
She nodded. “Wilson said: ‘At Chateau-Thierry we saved the world.’”
“Chuck Dixon and I were in that battle.”
“Was that where he died?”
“Direct hit from a shell. First casualty I saw. Not the last, sadly.”
“I’m very sorry, especially for his wife. I’ve known Doris for years-we used to have the same piano teacher.”
“I don’t know if we saved the world, though,” Gus went on. “There are many more French and British and Russians among the dead than Americans. But we tipped the balance. That ought to mean something.”
She shook her head, tossing her dark curls. “I disagree. The war is over, and the Europeans no longer need us.”
“Men such as Lloyd George seem to think that American military power cannot be ignored.”
“Then he’s wrong,” said Rosa. Gus was surprised and intrigued to hear a woman speak so forcefully about such a subject. “Suppose the French and British simply refuse to go along with Wilson,” she said. “Would he use the army to enforce his ideas? No. Even if he wanted to, a Republican Congress wouldn’t let him.”
“We have economic and financial power.”
“It’s certainly true that the Allies owe us huge debts, but I’m not sure how much leverage that gives us. There’s a saying: ‘If you owe a hundred dollars, the bank has you in its power; but if you owe a million dollars, you have the bank in your power.’”
Gus began to see that Wilson’s task might be more difficult than he had imagined. “Well, what about public opinion? You saw the reception Wilson got in Brest. All over Europe, people are looking to him to create a peaceful world.”
“That’s his strongest card. People are sick of slaughter. ‘Never again’ is their cry. I just hope Wilson can deliver what they want.”
