And Italy?  From Milan to Naples is heard the subterraneous rumbling of approaching revolution; the only means the Government have adopted to check the upheaval is to drown the revolution in a sea of national interests.  I believe that in 1917, when the general discontent was much less and finances were much better, the Italian Government might much more probably have accepted Wilson’s standpoint than after final victory.  Then they could not do it.  At Versailles they were the slaves of their promises.  And does anyone believe that Lloyd George would have had the power at Versailles to extend the Wilson principle of the right of self-determination to Ireland and the Dominions?  Naturally, he did not wish to do otherwise than he did; but that is not the question here, but rather that neither could have acted very differently even had he wished to do so.

It seems to me that the historical moment is the year 1917 when Wilson lost his power, which was swallowed up in Imperialism, and when the President of the United States neglected to force his programme on his Allies.  Then power was still in his hands, as the American troops were so eagerly looked for; but later, when victory came, he no longer held it.

And thus there came about what is now a fact.  A dictated peace of the most terrible nature was concluded and a foundation laid for a continuance of unimaginable disturbances, complications and wars.

In spite of all the apparent power of victorious armies, in spite of all the claims of the Council of Four, a world has expired at Versailles—­the world of militarism.  Solely bent on exterminating Prussian militarism, the Entente have gained so complete a victory that all fences and barriers have been pulled down and they can give themselves up unchecked to a torrent of violence, vengeance and passion.  And the Entente are so swallowed up by their revengeful paroxysm of destruction that they do not appear to see that, while they imagine they still rule and command, they are even now but instruments in a world revolution.

The Entente, who would not allow the war to end and kept up the blockade for months after the cessation of hostilities, has made Bolshevism a danger to the world.  War is its father, famine its mother, despair its godfather.  The poison of Bolshevism will course in the veins of Europe for many a long year.

Versailles is not the end of the war, it is only a phase of it.  The war goes on, though in another form.  I think that the coming generation will not call the great drama of the last five years the world-war, but the world-revolution, which it will realise began with the world-war.

Neither at Versailles nor St. Germain has any lasting work been done.  The germs of decomposition and death lie in this peace.  The paroxysms that shattered Europe are not yet over; as, after a terrible earthquake, the subterraneous rumblings may still be heard.  Again and again we shall see the earth open, now here, now there, and shoot up flames into the heavens; again and again there will be expressions of elementary nature and elementary force that will spread devastation through the land—­until everything has been swept away that reminds us of the madness of the war and the French peace.