“AND IF THOU WILT NOT BE MY SERVANT....”
FROM 1895 TILL THE ENTENTE CORDIALE
The prosperity of German industry, of German trade, of German shipping,
and the development of German capital, began, about the middle of the
nineties, to attract the attention of an ever-growing number of persons
in Great Britain. Such “attention” on the part of the English is, as we
know, invariably tainted by animosity. From all oversea countries
arrived reports from British consuls and commercial agents, telling of
German competition in the foreign markets. Everywhere was the German
merchant to be found, who was unusually active, who spoke all languages,
and who endeavored most skilfully to find out the wants and wishes of
the native population, to which wants the manufactured goods were
subsequently adapted. The immense growth of German industry had been
rendered possible by the Protectionist policy inaugurated by Bismarck in
1879. The protection of those national forces which demanded to be
developed, against foreign competition—especially against British
industry,—was an imperative necessity. Bismarck had not let himself be
caught in the English net so carefully spread for Continental
birds—i. e. by the “doctrine” of the blessing of free trade for German
industry. As soon as it was protected, German industry revealed a
strength hitherto unsuspected; it could now thrive; and the more it
could thrive, the more could it expand; and thus was it ever more
and more in a position to satisfy all requirements as to quality.
After a very short time, the English jeers about German industrial
products, which were scoffed at as being “cheap and nasty,” produced no
effect. Then came England’s great and irremedial mistake. In order to
protect English buyers against worthless German products, the British
Government decided that all manufactured goods imported into Great
Britain, Ireland, and the Colonies, should in future be marked: “Made
in Germany.” Thus did England, the champion of the magnificent ideal of
Free Trade, decide. As is well known, the plan failed, and the German
products, thanks to their good quality and their cheapness, obtained
instead an unlooked-for success; for the English buyer got into the
habit of asking for German, instead of English, goods. This failure,
with the involuntary comedy and the still more involuntary English
irony attached to it, produced its repercussion in the whole world,
and became an universal and well-deserved advertisement for German
industry. The culminating point of the German triumph was reached,
when the German liner Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse entered the port of
Southampton bearing the inscription “Made in Germany” in large letters.
The English were not yet uneasy. The tremendous start which it had,
enabled British industry to dominate its rival in all markets. The
immense difference between the means of production and distribution, and
especially between the capital, at the disposal of either country, was
well known. This fact alone was sufficient to prevent any uneasiness
cropping up. Lack of German capital, and an extreme and lasting tension
of German credit, on the one hand; immense English capital on the other:
such was the position of affairs towards the close of the last century.
But England is in the habit of carefully observing even the first
rudimentary beginnings of everything calculated to damage the monopoly,
which Providence has granted her in the markets of this world. In 1896
the former Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery, declared in a public meeting
that he attributed the disturbance of the friendly relations between
England and Germany not only to the Transvaal question, but above all to
the fact that Germany was beginning to catch up England in the economic
race. He himself was quite surprised by the technical and commercial
progress achieved by the Germans; German competition in these spheres
was a danger of the future. Germany possessed the most complete system
of technical education, and was therefore the most dangerous rival of
England; in fact, she even menaced British trade in India and Egypt. The
same politician said later: “We are threatened by a terrible adversary,
who wears us out as surely as the sea wears out the unprotected parts of
a coast. I refer to Germany.”
Lord Rosebery was quite right. What he termed a disturbance of the
friendly relations between Germany and England—namely, the outburst of
mob fury in the latter country after the German Emperor’s telegram to
President Krüger—was due only in part to the South African
complications. In fact, these certainly furnished the lesser motive, for
Great Britain, being all-powerful at sea, had nothing to fear in the
future from Germany in South Africa. The South African question was
settled. But German commercial competition, and the development of
German industry, were quite different matters. They could be suppressed
neither by a _quod non_ of the British Government, nor by a clatter of
swords. The principal motive of English unrest resided in the feeling,
partly conscious and partly unconscious, that German trade had risen
from humble origins to an astonishing height of prosperity by its own
unaided efforts, and in spite of the most difficult conditions. In the
course of our pilgrimage through the centuries which tell of the
development of British piracy, we have seen that it is by no means the
superior capacity or the originality of the English people which have
permitted them to obtain possession of the markets of the world. An
exceptionally favorable geographical position; the ability to inflict in
the most cunning and unscrupulous manner damage on other nations, which
were either exploited if possible by their best forces being drawn by
England into her own service, or which, if this was impossible, were
paralysed in such a way that they destroyed themselves: such have been
the factors of the development of British wealth and power. The
incurable madness of the Continental Powers, which perpetually tore each
other to pieces and exhausted their resources for the greater glory of
the British grocer, did the rest. But never did the superior
productivity, the superior intelligence, and the honest work, of the
English, have a share in the building up of England’s monopoly. Germany
before the Thirty Years’ War stood, in respect of such qualities, on a
far higher level than England, as did also Italy at the time of the
Renaissance, Holland in the seventeenth century, and France in the days
of Colbert and of Napoleon I. And now, after the long interval that had
elapsed since the War of Liberation, during which the monopoly of
industry and trade had appeared to the English as if it were given them
by Providence—after all these years, there suddenly arose the new German
Empire. The latter was, it is true, as yet without many resources; but
it proved itself a hard-working and talented competitor. Was it not
inevitable that the noble British blood should boil? How could the
German nation, which up till then had been poor and despised, dare to
compete with British industry, not only in the German but even in the
English market—nay, even in the world market?
Statistics showed that, during the period 1873–1896, the number of
German vessels had increased sixfold, and their tonnage more than
tenfold. The German passenger service was unrivalled in the world; the
North Sea fishing trade was formerly exclusively in English hands, and
the German fishing fleet in those waters had now been increased
twelvefold since 1873. The oversea shipping trade of Germany had
increased by more than 100%, whereas that of England had only increased
by 35%—a clear proof that German trade was proceeding with giant strides
to liberate itself from the English intermediary. Precisely this
last-mentioned phenomenon caused unusual pain and annoyance to the
“world’s carrier,” for it was equivalent to a severe blow in the face.
The German consulates in oversea countries increased in number every
year. Every year also did the total trade of Germany grow, and of this
trade much more than half was done with oversea countries. The amount of
money invested in the latter, and the number of shipping lines and of
shipbuilding yards, likewise augmented every year. Everywhere the
English saw growing strength, and the spirit of enterprise, and
perseverance, and skill—everywhere an indomitable resolution to produce
only the best of everything. In 1896 the German flag was, for the first
time, to be seen in Hamburg in superior numbers to the English. It was,
on the one hand, a legitimate triumph for the Germans, and a sure sign
that matters were progressing steadily; on the other hand, it brought
home to them once more all the misery of the years gone by. Not until
twenty-six years after the foundation of the new German Empire had the
numerical superiority of British ships in the greatest German harbor
been done away with! Up till then trade with German ports had been
carried on principally under the British flag, and via British ports.
Such was the fruit yielded by the “great harvest” reaped by England at
the time of the war with Napoleon, when England, albeit at peace with
the State of Hamburg, blockaded the mouth of the Elbe, and seized
Hamburgian ships wherever she could find them. Hamburg now took peaceful
revenge, and thereby prodigiously excited the wrath of the benefactor of
mankind at the other side of the North Sea.
In order that this period of Anglo-German relations be rightly
understood, it is impossible to insist too often on one cardinal fact:
namely, the absence of a German navy right up till the commencement of
the twentieth century. A few warships, it is true, existed, but these
were small, and the majority of them were badly built. England rightly
had no respect for such a fleet. As for Germany’s world policy, and the
tendencies revealed by the latter, the British Government judged it
solely in the light of a factor of possible alliances and groupings of
Powers. In other words, British statesmen were first and foremost
concerned about the question: with which Powers will Germany seek to
effect a rapprochement, in order to obtain support for the aims pursued
by her world policy? This was very natural, seeing that every
co-operation of Germany with another Power appeared to the Government of
His Britannic Majesty as a menace and a danger. This Government believed
also to have found here the key to a further conundrum—namely, how may
German trade competition be guided into paths where its danger to
England shall be reduced to a minimum? The best solution to both
questions appeared to the London Cabinet to lie in a rapprochement
between England and Germany. It was known in London that Germany would
create no difficulties in South Africa; and this sufficed for the
moment. When Russia took Port Arthur, and Germany acquired Kiaotchow,
whilst England followed suit with Weihaiwei, the British Government
considered it to be of great importance that Berlin should be informed
of the former’s firm intention “not to call in question any of Germany’s
rights or interests in Shantung.” The British Government was aware that
Port Arthur had been for some years the goal of Russian policy in the
Far East, and that the leasing of Kiaotchow to Germany could not
possibly constitute a danger to English interests for a very long time
to come. Or did other intentions prevail already in those days? We do
not know. In any case must Port Arthur in Russian hands have appeared to
British statesmen as distinctly dangerous; for it was the symbol of
Russian expansion in the Far East, and of an Imperialist policy which
could only be pursued at the expense of the Chinese Empire. The
acquisition of Weihaiwei was in the nature of a counter-move directed
against Russia, and not against Germany. Mr. Arthur Balfour, the future
Prime Minister, in the course of a speech made at the time, gave
expression to the anxiety felt by the Government concerning the perilous
surprises which the development of events might entail for the future of
China. The Russian danger in the Far East had become immense, for
Russia’s expansion threatened the freedom of the Chinese market, which
Great Britain had long since attributed to herself, and which she had
sought to prepare by all the means in her power. A steady increase of
the Russian fleet proceeded simultaneously with the Russian advance on
the Continent. Every new warship was despatched to the Far East; Port
Arthur became a naval port and a fortress, whereas Dalny, in the
neighborhood, was made into a trading port.
Thus it was the Russian danger which induced the British Government to
seek a rapprochement with Germany. We may resume England’s policy at
that time in a sentence: if possible, let us make use of Germany against
Russia. The former, and Austria-Hungary with her, can by means of
pressure—and, if necessary, by war—in Europe, loosen Russia’s hold on
the Chinese Empire, and indirectly check the Russian advance in the Far
East. This calculation was, in itself a perfectly sound one. There is no
doubt that an European war, which would have relieved England of her
anxieties in the Far East, would at that time have been very welcome to
the British Government.
Prince Bülow kept his hands free, and the British wooing did not have
the success which the late Joseph Chamberlain wished for; but the London
Cabinet continued to hope that it would eventually attain its end. In
the last years of the old century events succeeded each other rapidly.
The Hispano-American war broke out, and Spain lost the greater part of
her remaining colonial possessions. All the other Powers remained
neutral. England, however, despite her friendship with Germany in the
Far East, seized the opportunity to endeavor to sow in the United States
the seeds of distrust against Germany. British diplomacy observed with
irritation and anxiety the victorious campaign of the Americans, but did
not venture to give public expression to its feelings. It contented
itself with an effort to prevent the armed intervention of the United
States in Cuba, by means of a joint action of the neutral Powers.
Germany refused her co-operation; and British diplomacy at once
proceeded to put matters in such a light that it should appear as if
Germany, and not England, had proposed taking this step. The British
cable companies did everything they could—and that was a great deal—to
prevent all possibility of a German-American rapprochement ever being
realised.
The same year 1898 witnessed an event which was destined to become a
most important turning-point in British modern history: namely, the
so-called Fashoda affair. As is well known, this “incident” was created
by a French expedition under the leadership of Colonel (then Captain)
Marchand, which, setting out from the French Congo, had reached Fashoda,
in the territory of the Upper Nile. The English considered any French
advance towards the last-named region as constituting a grave danger for
their own position in Egypt. Lord Kitchener, who had just won the battle
of Omdurman, protested against the hoisting of the French flag at
Fashoda. Captain Marchand declined to give way, and notified his
Government of the incident. A great tension of Franco-British relations
immediately followed, and England’s language became very menacing. The
Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in London, Mr. (now Lord)
Curzon, had declared, a year before, at the time when Captain Marchand
had just begun his expedition, that if the latter should enter a
territory “in which our rights have already long been recognised, this
would not only be an unexpected act, but the French Government must well
know that it would be an unfriendly one, and considered as such in
England.” Such language was already clear enough; but much stronger
language was resorted to when the event actually took place. The Naval
Reserves were called in, the fleet was held ready, and the English
Ministers, as is customary in all such cases, made speeches of a most
menacing character. Their argument was the following: England claims to
rule over all territories having formerly belonged to Egypt; she does so
“on behalf of Egypt,” which country has, at the cost of the heaviest
sacrifices, been saved from anarchy and ruin. The claim, as will be
seen, was a very elastic one. It amounted to this: wherever, within the
limits of the African Continent, England chose to declare that a
territory had once belonged to Egypt, such a territory was transferred
by Divine right to the Chosen People.
France was not prepared to defy Great Britain. In the spring of 1899 the
latter concluded an Agreement with the French Government, by means of
which she obtained all she wanted: namely, the recognition of her
uncontested right to rule in all territories which the Egypt of yore had
ever claimed, or ever could claim. England did not, of course, demand
this in her own name, but in that of the “independent Egyptian State.”
Had France not given way, it would seem that England intended taking
Tunis, with the naval port (then in construction) of Bizerta.
“The disgrace of Fashoda” was, from that time on, a popular phrase in
France, and the Germans believed that they were now but a short distance
removed from a Franco-German understanding. It was, however, a great
mistake. The leading men in France were convinced that the Fashoda
“incident” had quite another meaning. The French colonial plans, which
had found their expression in the Marchand expedition, had definitely
failed. Other colonial problems in Africa were still open. The French
fleet would, in the future, be just as little in a position successfully
to defy the British fleet as it had been in 1898. No effective help on
sea could be expected from Russia, for the center of gravity of Russia’s
policy and maritime power lay in the Far East. It is true that France
could maintain a respectable fleet in the Mediterranean, and thus keep
up a certain equilibrium there. Her fleet was sufficient to prevent
France being eliminated from any settlement of Mediterranean questions.
But the French statesmen were of opinion that France was henceforth too
weak to continue the old historical struggle with England on the seas
and beyond them. Subsequent reflection confirmed their first impression.
Since July, 1898, M. Delcassé was Minister for Foreign Affairs, and M.
Paul Cambon was French Ambassador in London, where he is still to-day.
M. Cambon, a leading political personality and a diplomatist of the
first order, saw that the moment had come for paving the way to an
understanding with England. It is reported that M. Delcassé, on taking
office, likewise said that he hoped not to leave the Ministry on the
Quai d’Orsay until he had laid the foundations of a lasting entente with
the latter Power. The French press could wax indignant about the
disgrace of Fashoda, it could demand peremptorily an increase of the
navy, and threaten the hereditary foe,—this war of words left Great
Britain wholly indifferent. The statesmen in London knew full well that
a great turning-point in history had been reached; and they were content
to wait quietly until the fruit should ripen.
The Fashoda incident had, therefore, an entirely different meaning to
the one which is still generally to-day attributed to it. It was not in
spite of Fashoda that six years later the Franco-English entente was
concluded, which has since developed into an alliance—but as a result of
Fashoda! Without Fashoda there would have been no _Entente Cordiale_, no
alliance! The old historical world-struggle between France and England
reached its definite end with the Fashoda incident. Even after 1870 it
was still conceivable that France might endeavor, in conjunction with
Continental Powers, to resume the ancient struggle—especially in view of
the burning questions arising out of the conflicting colonial
aspirations of the two countries in Africa. The Fashoda incident put an
end to all this. The efforts made during the preceding twenty years by
statesmen on both sides of the water, in view of arriving at an
understanding between Paris and London, had been temporarily frustrated
by Bismarck. But now, after the tree had been vigorously shaken at
Fashoda, the fruit fell spontaneously. We may recall, in this
connection, the words spoken by the French Ambassador in London in the
days of the Krüger telegram: “France has but one enemy,” etc.
After Fashoda the political situation in the Mediterranean was suddenly
changed. It was no accident that France and Italy should, about the same
time, have effected a rapprochement after long years of estrangement,
and that they should have signed a colonial agreement. Crispi had
inaugurated Italy’s ambitious colonial policy, and had induced the
Italian nation to make immense efforts in order to become a great
Mediterranean Power. The defeat at Adua signified the end of this era;
instead of the ambitious foreign policy which aimed at placing Italy
ahead of France in the Mediterranean, a new period now set in,
characterised by timidity and excessive economy in matters of national
defence. The party which denounced Italy’s adhesion to the Triple
Alliance as the cause of ruinously expensive armaments constantly
increased. We now know that English influence stood behind it, that
English counsel and English intrigue prepared and organised the
unfortunate Abyssinian adventure, partly in order to give British troops
a pretext for intervening themselves, partly because England had no use
for a powerful Italy in the Mediterranean—much less so, in fact, since
the weakness of France had become palpable. Formerly, when France was
stronger, England had done all she could to embitter the quarrel between
the two Latin nations; but now it was the reverse. Thus it was that
England, in 1898, bestowed her blessing on the Franco-Italian
rapprochement, by the mouth of Admiral Rawson, Commander-in-Chief of the
British squadron, which was then visiting Genoa. England likewise
succeeded, on the same occasion, in loosening the ropes that bound Italy
to the Triple Alliance; Italy veered round in the direction of France
and England, attracted as she was by the advantages offered her in North
Africa by these two Powers. England was, from now on, no longer the
Power whose fleet served to back up the Triple Alliance (which possessed
no fleet) in the Mediterranean, where England had guaranteed the
maintenance of the _status quo_ against France. This policy of England’s
was no longer necessary, for France no longer dreamt of “kicking against
the English pricks.” Not the least of the causes which, in former days,
induced Italy to join the Triple Alliance, was the former’s rivalry with
France.
The reasons for the destruction of the Boer Republics were typically
English. These Republics grew and prospered, and became stronger in
every way; it was only natural that they should aspire to complete
independence in their relations with other Powers, and that they should
not consider themselves as bound by a forged treaty limiting their
rights in this respect, and which had been forced on them by England
some fifteen years previously. The British Government, and especially
Chamberlain, understood that a normal and natural evolution was here in
progress, and that it could not be stopped. The only means of doing so
remained the destruction of the independence of the Boer Republics.
During the Boer War the anti-foreign movement known as the Boxer War,
broke out in China. All the European Powers sent troops to the Far East,
and a numerous international fleet was anchored in Chinese waters. The
_leitmotiv_ of British policy at that moment was furnished by the
necessity of checking Russian expansion in the Chinese Empire and in
Corea. Already during the Boxer troubles, England and Japan worked
together on the most intimate terms; on the other hand, British
diplomacy endeavored to play off Germany against Russia in China, and
was very dissatisfied when it observed that the Germans intended acting
in the Far East on their own account—chiefly in view of obtaining new
openings for German trade. England was likewise displeased with the
relatively strong fleet which Germany had despatched to the Far East;
she had, on the other hand, the consolation of seeing the German fleet
in home waters reduced to two battleships.
The only reasonable policy which Germany could possibly pursue during
the Boer War, was one of absolute neutrality. When Russia attempted to
take advantage of the situation, and to induce Germany to take part in a
movement against England, Prince Bülow put an end to all further
negotiations by proposing, as a condition of the intervention of the
European Powers, that they should agree to recognise the validity of the
territorial _status quo_ on the Continent. In this way, France would
have had to accept the Treaty of Frankfort, and the idea was
consequently abandoned. Russia was the only Power which could, at that
time, by an advance towards the Indian frontier, have fought with
success against Great Britain.
Thus England remained undisturbed, and with her freedom of action
unimpaired. Alone the business instinct of the United States skilfully
took advantage of the situation, and a new treaty concerning the future
Panama Canal was concluded. The sovereignty of the United States over
the Canal was thereby assured, and the latter withdrawn for ever from
British control.
During the Boer War, Lord Salisbury and Joseph Chamberlain continued
their efforts to bring about an understanding with Germany. It was
proposed to form, in conjunction with the United States, a
German-Anglo-Saxon Alliance. Chamberlain declared that no far-sighted
British statesman could wish to see England permanently isolated from
the Continent. Her quarrels with Germany had been mere trifles, and
could not obscure the fact that, German and English interests were, to a
large extent, parallel; and that the most natural alliance for England
was an alliance with the German Empire. Some weeks later Prince Bülow
replied that the German Government likewise desired to come to an
understanding, but that this would only be possible on the basis of
absolute equality and mutual respect. Germany consequently must desire
all the more sincerely that no incidents should crop up, susceptible of
creating difficulties between the two countries. Such an “incident” was
the confiscation, by the English, of German mail steamers during the
South African war.
Finally an agreement was made, on the basis of the _status quo_ and of
the open door in China. We would recall that Japan was also a party to
this agreement. The London Cabinet thought that it had thereby caught
the German Empire in the meshes of the English net, seeing that
Germany had bound herself over to protest in company with Great
Britain and Japan against the Russian advance in the Far East—for that
advance menaced the _status quo_ and the open door alike. There
followed the negotiations with Russia regarding the evacuation of
Manchuria by the Russian troops. (The latter had occupied Manchuria
during the Boxer War.) Russia promised the evacuation, but did not
fulfil her promise. But Prince Bülow declared in the Reichstag that
the Anglo-German-Japanese Agreement did not concern Manchuria. The
fate of the latter province was wholly immaterial to Germany.
The attitude of Germany in the Manchurian question was the cause of the
definite abandonment, by Great Britain, of her attempts at wooing. It is
probable that the idea of a rapprochement with France originated in
London simultaneously with the end of the Anglo-German flirt. The
ground, as we have seen, was already prepared. France was only waiting,
she had submitted herself to the inevitable, and her clever diplomatists
were skilfully and noiselessly working with a view to removing the last
obstacles.
The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was but the logical consequence of the
situation which had been created in the Far East by the war between
China and Japan, by the intervention of the European Continental Powers
in 1895, and by the expansion of Russia. There can be no doubt that the
British statesmen had long been at work. They had for a long time
intended drawing Japan, as the strongest adversary of Russia, over to
their side. On the other hand, the hope of avenging “the disgrace of
Shimonoseki” had operated powerfully among the Japanese nation. England,
with the one definite aim of checking Russian expansion before her, had
assisted the Japanese Government in every way—with money, credit,
political and naval advice. With the help of the Chinese war indemnity
and of British loans, Japan, between 1895 and 1904, built up a small but
excellent fleet, and organized her army according to the German
pattern—whereby she was actively seconded by German officers, who were
engaged as instructors. These officers laid, during years of peace, the
basis of the Japanese victories, which were due first and foremost to
German military science. The German army manœuvres also played their
part, for they were frequently visited by studious and energetic
Japanese officers. Thus did German diplomacy, on the one hand, and the
German army, on the other, take diametrically opposite sides: namely,
for Russia, and against her. Truly a deplorable spectacle!
The way in which the Russo-Japanese War was prepared, begun, and carried
out, furnishes another typical example of British methods. England did
not need to have recourse, in the case of Japan, to arguments—for Japan
was already convinced. England only needed to pour oil on the fire, to
add to her ally’s strength where this was necessary, to take the
political and diplomatic reins into her own hands—and then, when war had
broken out, to point with unmistakable clearness to her all-powerful
fleet which ruled the seas. Under these circumstances, who else could
venture to say a word? Japan fought England’s battles on sea and on
land. The Russian fleet was annihilated at Tsushima and in the harbor of
Port Arthur; the Russian armies were driven with terrible loss from
Liaotung and Manchuria. Port Arthur fell into the hands of the Japanese.
The satisfaction in London would certainly have been greater if the
Japanese triumph had not been so overwhelming. England wished the
Russian fleet to be entirely destroyed, but she would also liked to have
seen three-quarters of the Japanese fleet at the bottom of the sea.
Instead of that Japan became, thanks to her navy, the predominant Power
in the Far East. This solution was not, from the English point of view,
an ideal one; but it was not an unprofitable one either—or at any rate
any disadvantages it might have, did not seem likely to manifest
themselves for a very long time to come. It was England who, cleverly
screened behind the United States, prevented Japan from obtaining a war
indemnity in Portsmouth. In this way did the two Anglo-Saxon nations
inflict far greater damage on Japan, than was ever inflicted by the
intervention of the Continental Powers in 1895. Japan’s army and navy
have thereby suffered considerably in their development up till the
present day; the Japanese finances have ever since been in a critical
condition; and the population as a whole has been reduced to a state of
poverty resulting from overtaxation, such as no country has ever
witnessed after a victorious war. About the same time, England caused
the Alliance between herself and her impoverished friend to be
consolidated, and the duties resulting from it for either Power to be
extended. On the whole, the danger in the Far East had been suppressed;
Japan had been bound to Great Britain and rendered economically
dependent on the latter. Japan’s resources were exhausted, and she had
been placed in the impossibility of recovering her strength for many
years to come. England sought, at the same time, to widen as much as
possible the gulf, already then perceptible, between America and Japan.
It was in England’s interest that the gulf in question should not be
bridged over—but, on the other hand, the quarrel must not be allowed to
lead to war. The London Cabinet has had, nevertheless, considerable
difficulty at times in preventing war from breaking out.
Russia, on the other hand, had been immensely weakened by her defeats
and by the revolution; and for a long time she could undertake nothing.
But England was desirous of obtaining still more. Even as Fashoda had
proved the beginning of the Anglo-French entente; so also were Tsushima
and Mukden destined to form the bridge between St. Petersburg and
London.