For a time the disharmony between words and deeds passed unnoticed by the bulk of the masses, who were edified by the one and unacquainted with the other.  But gradually the lack of consistency in policy and of manly straightforwardness and moral wholeness in method became apparent to all and produced untoward consequences.  Mr. Wilson, whose authority and influence were supposed to be paramount, came in for the lion’s share of criticism, except in the Polish policy of the Conference, which was traced to Mr. Lloyd George and his unofficial prompters.  The American press was the most censorious of all.  One American journal appearing in Paris gave utterance to the following comments on the President’s role:[90]

President Wilson is conscious of his power of persuasion.  That power enables him to say one thing, do another, describe the act as conforming to the idea, and, with act and idea in exact contradiction to each other, convince the people, not only that he has been consistent throughout, but that his act cannot be altered without peril to the nation and danger to the world.

     We do not know which Mr. Wilson to follow—­the Mr. Wilson who says
     he will not do a thing or the Mr. Wilson who does that precise
     thing.

A great many Americans have one fixed idea.  That idea is that the President is the only magnanimous, clear-visioned, broad-minded statesman in the United States, or the entire world, for that matter.

When he uses his powers of persuasion Americans become as the children of Hamelin Town.  Inasmuch as Mr. Wilson of the word and Mr. Wilson of the deed seem at times to be two distinct identities, some of his most enthusiastic supporters for the League of Nations, being unfortunately gifted with memory and perception, are fairly standing on their heads in dismay.

And yet Mr. Wilson himself was a victim of the policy of reticence and concealment to which the Great Powers were incurably addicted.  At the time when they were moving heaven and earth to induce him to break with Germany and enter the war, they withheld from him the existence of their secret treaties.  Possibly it may not be thought fair to apply the test of ethical fastidiousness to their method of bringing the United States to their side and to their unwillingness to run the risk of alienating the President.  But it appears that until the close of hostility the secret was kept inviolate, nor was it until Mr. Wilson reached the shores of Europe for the purpose of executing his project that he was faced with the huge obstacles to his scheme arising out of those far-reaching commitments.  With this depressing revelation and the British non possumus to his demand for the freedom of the seas, Mr. Wilson’s practical difficulties began.  It was probably on that occasion that he resolved, seeing that he could not obtain everything he wanted, to content himself with the best he could get.  And that was not a society of peoples, but a rough approximation to the hegemony of the Anglo-Saxon nations.