THE CATASTROPHE IS MORE CAREFULLY PREPARED
1909–1914
The good Germans breathed more freely, and rejoiced at the political
_détente_. Their astonishment was all the greater when, at the end of
1908 and the beginning of 1909, a terrible cry arose at the other side
of the North Sea about an appalling “German peril.” It was stated that
the fleet of German Dreadnoughts was in a fair way to out-rivalling that
of Great Britain. The cunning tricks of the German Government, and
especially of Admiral von Tirpitz, had succeeded in secretly hastening
the construction of the German navy. We have already mentioned, in a
previous chapter, how skilfully the British Government made use of these
lies for the purpose of hoodwinking the Colonies and the United States.
The whole story was a falsehood from beginning to end, for there could
be no question of the construction of the German fleet being “secretly
hastened”; and the British Government knew this perfectly well. The
German Government furnished, through its diplomatic representatives and
also publicly through the press, more than enough explanations showing
that the pretended English reckonings about the number of German
battleships were wholly wrong. In the same “year of panic,” 1908–09, a
conference of the leading maritime nations was held in London, at the
invitation of the British Government. The result of this Conference was
the publication of the “London Declaration concerning Maritime Law,”
which was subsequently so much commented upon. Its origin was as
follows: During the Conference at The Hague in 1907, the leading
maritime nations had declared themselves in agreement with the German
proposal to institute a permanent international Court of Prizes. It was
intended to convert the latter, in future maritime wars, into a Court of
Appeal which should be above all the national Prize Courts. But there
was no international law corresponding to the proposed international
institution. It was the task of the London Conference to create this
international law, and it did so in the form of the London Declaration
above mentioned. The avowed object of the latter was to draw up
provisions for the protection of neutral shipping in time of war. And,
as a matter of fact, the contents of the Declaration were such as to
furnish, if not a perfect, at all events a very acceptable basis on
which the safety and the rights of neutral shipping could be guaranteed.
The British Government instructed its delegates to sign the Declaration,
just as in 1907 they had signed the Hague Convention concerning the
International Prize Court. But no ratification of either agreement ever
took place. The British Government, albeit pretending that it was in
favor of the ratification, engineered behind the scenes a violent
agitation against the London Declaration, and against the establishment
of an International Court of Prizes. This agitation lasted several
years. The agitators told the credulous and trembling islanders that the
whole thing was just simply a base German intrigue. The German
Government had succeeded, according to them, in outwitting harmless
British statesmen and naval officers in The Hague and in London. The
International Court of Prizes and the London Declaration signified
nothing else but “Sea Law made in Germany”; it was intended, in the case
of an Anglo-German war, to deprive England of all the means which she
possessed for defending her own maritime trade, and to prevent her
applying in future those time-honored methods which, in the wars of
former centuries, had produced such brilliant results. The British
nation was naturally most indignant at this unheard-of German infamy;
and the consequence was that the House of Lords, by rejecting a Bill
which provided that the existing British Prize Law should be modified,
frustrated the ratification of the Hague Convention and also of the
London Declaration. When war broke out in 1914 the Declaration did not,
therefore, possess international validity; but simple-minded persons in
Germany and in the neutral countries firmly believed that England would
act according to the provisions of the Declaration, since the latter was
the fruit of an unanimous agreement among all the maritime nations which
took part in the Conference.
Ever since 1909, it is true, British admirals and statesmen had calmly
and coldly proclaimed that it was quite immaterial whether the
Declaration were ratified or not, for the moment war broke out “it would
be torn into rags and thrown into the sea.” The history of the war up to
date has proved that the British admirals were well informed. It is true
that the rank of an admiral would not have been necessary for that; for
it is an old habit of British Governments to announce in the most
pathetical tone of voice their readiness to enter into negotiations, and
to sign conventions, of this sort. England was always enthusiastic about
right and justice in maritime warfare—provided she could by these means
bind the hands of other nations without committing herself to anything.
We have already shown, in a previous chapter, that England pretended at
first to accept the standpoint of the Armed Neutrality League in 1780,
and that she afterwards rejected all the desiderata of the League with a
sneer. In 1856, in the celebrated Declaration of Paris, Great Britain
accepted certain principles to which British naval commanders had not
paid the slightest attention during the Crimean War a year or two
earlier. The British Admiralty renounced, on the same occasion, its
claim to the right of capture—for the times, and the modified conditions
of warfare, made it appear unsuitable to raise such a claim. But the
Declaration of Paris has never been ratified either, and the British
Government did not hesitate for one minute, after war had broken out in
1914, in “tearing it into rags and throwing it into the sea.” Notably
were the provisions regarding the freedom of cargoes under neutral flag,
and those regarding the right of blockade, trampled under foot.
“International Maritime Law”: for the pirates who rule the seas, these
words have never meant anything else than unlimited freedom for
themselves. The English were always glad to see other nations bind
themselves hand and foot; with sincere satisfaction did they watch the
spectacle of the European nations listening with pious credulity to
English speeches about international civilisation and the protection of
neutral countries; and when learned professors wrote ponderous volumes
on the subject of “the progress and development of maritime law in time
of war,” the Islanders chuckled with delight. The stupidity of the
Continental nations has been as incurable in this case, as in all other
cases where the question of the relations between the sacred Island and
its European victims has arisen. Great Britain has always been a friend
of international parleys, for they have invariably proved a useful
instrument for her. At the moment when the Hague Conference of 1907 was
being prepared, the British Government endeavored to have a discussion
on “the reduction of armaments” inserted in the programme. The object
was a double one: firstly, to prevent by means of an international
agreement the German fleet from becoming inconveniently strong;
secondly, to permit in this way of the British navy maintaining its (at
that time crushing) superiority with the least possible expense. King
Edward knew that he would have his European coalition unanimously on the
side of England. Had the German Government not accepted the decision of
the Conference, the German Empire would have been, of course, stamped as
the unscrupulous and dangerous disturber of the world’s peace. Prince
Bülow saw the trap that was being laid, and declared beforehand that
Germany would take no part in a debate of this kind. Thus the cunning
plan failed, and the British Premier, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman,
denied indignantly that the London Cabinet had ever intended setting a
trap at all. During the following years, British Ministers often
attempted to raise the question of a limitation of armaments, and to
induce Germany to fall in with their wishes—sometimes by flattery,
sometimes by veiled menaces.
The period under review was, in fact, characterised as a whole by
England’s efforts to check the growth of the German navy by means
different to those hitherto adopted. The aim remained the same: namely,
to weaken and intimidate Germany. “First humiliate, then destroy”: this
continued to be the motto. There were many Germans, and amongst them
several political men, who did not understand this, who believed in the
possibility of Anglo-German friendship, and who understood not the
lessons taught by the history of Great Britain. It was about 1909 that
the beautiful phrase came into fashion, which we used to hear right up
till the outbreak of war: namely, that “Great Britain must and will
recognise us as possessing equal rights with herself in Europe and in
the whole world.” Then, it was declared, the peace of the world would be
definitely assured, and the German and the British merchant would work
peacefully together; the two nations, related to each other by ties of
blood, would henceforth march together along the path of progress
towards the conquest of international solidarity. The English even
hinted that, in this rosy future, the customs duties would also be
suppressed, for they were a hindrance to the intimacy of the two
nations. The enormous expenditure on armaments would be reduced to a
minimum, and the gigantic sums thus saved would be employed in order to
develop the peaceful work of civilisation, instead of being sacrificed
to the naval Moloch. He who refused to believe in this message of great
joy was denounced, between 1910 and 1914, as a narrow-minded jingo who,
in opposition to the will of “the immense majority of the German
people,” desired to bring about a war between the two “cousins.” It was
a period which we to-day recall to mind without any pride—a period of
self-deception and dangerous illusions on the part of a very large
section of the German public. This self-deception was due, in the first
place, to the German habit of believing that which it is agreeable to
believe; and, in the second place, to a curious misconception concerning
the character of the British and the essence of their Empire. When has
England, in the whole course of her history, ever recognised a strong
and prosperous European maritime nation as possessing equal rights with
herself? Never! But, it was argued in Germany, that was in the old times
of violence and darkness. Those times were now gone; and England now
knew as well as, if not better than, any other nation, that the
blessings of peace were much superior even to the advantages reaped from
a victorious war. In addition to this, Germany was England’s best
client, and the British merchant was far too businesslike to wish to
lose such a client by weakening or destroying him. Then we must not
forget the international ties which bind the modern nations so closely
to each other. And finally—_pièce de résistance_—the “common ideals of
humanity”! Who could forget them? A few months before war broke out, the
German Ambassador in London, Prince Lichnowsky, publicly declared that
“nations” and “national ideals” were but stepping-stones leading up to
the ultimate ideal of “humanity.” So intimately was this diplomatist
then convinced of the existence of Anglo-German harmony!
During the last 350 years England has never changed her political and
economic aims and methods. Neither the British Empire nor the British
nation can be understood unless we know their history. The statesman or
diplomatist who does not know or does not understand this history,
cannot perceive and cannot understand the unchangeable aim which British
policy unswervingly pursues. He must, therefore, infallibly be led
astray.
The last alarm was given by the Morocco crisis of 1911. The fundamental
reasons underlying this crisis have been, in general, misunderstood in
Germany. It is necessary, therefore, that we should briefly dwell on
them here. The motive which prompted the German Government to send the
Panther to Agadir was not the inauguration of a new Moroccan policy, but
simply the liquidation of the old one. Favored by mistakes previously
committed by Germany, French expansion in Morocco could no longer be
checked by an appeal to existing treaties; the German Secretary of State
for Foreign Affairs, Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter, feared that Germany
would one day find herself in a position in which she could no longer
claim anything; he therefore decided to have the Panther sent to Agadir
in order to compel France to enter into a discussion with the German
Government. The latter—we must insist on the fact—intended from the
beginning to leave Morocco entirely to France, but desired
compensations. As to whether the Agadir demonstration was a well-chosen
one, or as to whether the Franco-German negotiations were always
conducted as they should have been, this is another question, which we
cannot discuss here. However that may be, France proved willing to enter
into a discussion; and the negotiations would in all probability have
been satisfactorily concluded within a very short time, if England had
not suddenly interfered. On the 1st of July, 1911, the Panther appeared
in front of Agadir. On July 21st the English Chancellor of the
Exchequer, Mr. Lloyd-George, made, after a Cabinet Council had
previously been held, a speech at the Mansion House in London. The most
important passage of the speech, which was written, was as follows:—
“The potent influence (of England) has many a time been in the past, and
may yet be in the future, invaluable to the cause of human liberty. It
has more than once in the past redeemed continental nations—who are
sometimes too apt to forget that service—from overwhelming disaster and
even from national extinction. I would make great sacrifices to preserve
peace, I conceive that nothing would justify a disturbance of
international goodwill except questions of the gravest national moment.
But if a situation were to be forced upon us in which peace would only
be preserved by the surrender of the great and beneficent position
Britain has won by centuries of heroism and achievement, by allowing
Britain to be treated where her interests are vitally affected as if she
were of no account in the Cabinet of nations, then I say emphatically
that peace at that price would be a humiliation intolerable for a great
country like ours to endure.”
Four years separate us from the time when these words were spoken, and
we can now judge them with impartiality. The speech, made by Mr.
Lloyd-George on behalf of his colleagues in the Cabinet, shows us with
unusual clearness the British conception of the part played by England
in the history of Europe. We have tried, in the course of this book, to
give the reader a bird’s-eye view of some centuries of that history;
England, without one single exception, has been found to be the Vampire
of Europe. Her economic policy, her political policy, her wars, have
invariably had but a single aim: to drain the riches and the life-blood
of the Continental nations. In order to do this, she has systematically
stirred them up against each other.—But Mr. Lloyd-George, with true
English impertinence, speaks about the “invaluable services” rendered by
Great Britain to the cause of Continental freedom; he even dares to talk
to Europe about “centuries of heroism and achievement,” when the sole
object of his country has always been piracy and theft under every
conceivable form.
The negotiations between France and Germany in 1911 did not concern
England in the least, for they did not touch upon anything belonging to
her. Their object was Morocco, which England had long since conceded to
France, and also French colonies in Africa. The British statesmen knew
perfectly well, however much they may have denied it, that Germany did
not intend acquiring anything in Morocco. They knew just as well that
Germany only desired to put an end, once and for all, to the friction
between herself and France arising from out of the Morocco question. But
this was precisely what England could not tolerate. For that reason the
passions of the French people were kindled, during the negotiations, by
the most idiotic lies manufactured in London. For that reason England
interfered with the negotiations, and screamed about the German Empire
intending to attack France. All other pretexts and phrases were so many
lies, or attempts to conceal the truth. The Moroccan question in itself
had only fifth-rate importance for England. But that the two great
Continental nations should negotiate together without England, or
conclude a treaty without the latter’s authorisation: this is what was
incompatible with England’s century-old traditions. Therefore did
British statesmen decide to intervene rapidly and resolutely; and, as is
usual in such cases, to utter threats of war. French newspapers in
English pay denounced imaginary acts of treason; and the Premier, M.
Joseph Caillaux, who was inclined to draw up with Germany an Agreement
satisfactory to both parties, was got rid of. The lies spread regarding
all sorts of German designs on Morocco and on France, were of English
origin. The London Cabinet feared that the great European coalition
against Germany might be broken up by a Franco-German understanding. The
latter had consequently to be prevented at all costs, and this result
was obtained.
The crisis of 1911 showed Great Britain to be the uncontested leader of
the anti-German coalition. The London Cabinet would not have been sorry
to see war break out at that time, although Russia was not yet ready.
The British press, and also the French press which had been corrupted by
English gold, loudly demanded war. England finally obtained without war
what she wanted: namely, closer co-operation and increased deadly hatred
against Germany among the Powers of the Triple Entente.
The military conventions between Great Britain, France, and Belgium,
were revised and completed. Amongst other things, the Moroccan crisis
had shown that the plan of a British landing _en masse_ on the Continent
needed to be recast. British experts were of opinion that, during the
crisis of 1911, the mobilisation of the fleet destined to transport the
expeditionary corps did not work as smoothly as it ought to have done in
the case of a war with Germany. The defects were carefully and rapidly
repaired, and the machine was kept ready to be put into motion
instantly. A definite agreement had been concluded with France,
according to which the French fleet was entirely to be concentrated in
the Mediterranean, whereas England guaranteed the safety of the Northern
coasts of France. Conversations were begun with Russia regarding an
active co-operation in the Mediterranean, the Black Sea, and the Baltic.
In short, it was clear to the governing circles of England that the next
crisis should bring war, or at any rate the complete humiliation of
Germany. The three Powers proceeded to develop their armaments on land
and sea with the utmost energy.
The controversy concerning the mouth of the Scheldt was characteristic
of the situation existing during the years which immediately preceded
the war. Holland wished to modernise the forts at Flushing, in order to
be able, if need be, to close the mouth of the Scheldt. She had a
perfect right to do so; but, at England’s instigation, a tremendous
hullabaloo was raised in Belgium, France and Russia. The real reason of
all the noise was not—as was pretended—that the Scheldt should be kept
open for the British fleet, in order that the latter might protect
Belgium’s neutrality; but it is to be found in the fact that England had
already destined Antwerp to be the basis of her operations against
Germany in the coming war. The large increase of the Belgian army had
been ordered by England, because she desired to see her ally Belgium
stronger than had been the case up till then. During many years, the
Belgian nation was systematically fanaticised against Germany; and
England further induced the Belgian Government to organise a spying
service in Western Germany. At the same time, special efforts were again
made by the London Cabinet to win over Holland and Denmark for the war
of destruction. But such attempts succeeded just as little now as they
had formerly done.
The Germans perceived nothing at all of these things. They even believed
that the era of intimate and durable friendship with England had dawned.
The British Government was very satisfied with this state of public
opinion. The War Minister, Haldane, who enjoyed the reputation of being
a staunch friend of Germany because he had translated Schopenhauer and
took pleasure in making academical speeches about our country, was sent
to Berlin early in 1912. The real object of his journey was to endeavor
to prevent a further development of the German navy. Haldane himself,
backed up by English financiers and the “pro-German” section of the
English press, never ceased insisting on the fact that the German navy
was the one obstacle in the way of a really intimate friendship between
the two countries. The result was, that the German naval programme in
1912 was badly mutilated. On the other hand, England declined the German
proposal to conclude a Neutrality Agreement. Haldane returned to London.
He could well be pleased with the success of his mission, albeit he had
not obtained all he desired. The London Cabinet now knew how strongly
the Germans wished to remain on friendly terms with England; above all
Haldane brought his colleagues the invaluable information that the
British statesmen were, in Germany, considered to be honest. Such wholly
unmerited confidence rendered, of course, the work of British diplomacy
all the easier. A perfidious diplomacy cannot possibly wish for anything
better than to be regarded by its adversary as honest. Every swindler
will agree with this.
The Italo-Turkish war broke out; it was followed by the Balkan wars.
During the war between Italy and Turkey, England worked hard to detach
the former from the Triple Alliance. She did not succeed, because the
Rome Cabinet understood that, under the circumstances then existing, it
was better for Italy to remain as she was. The same year witnessed the
realisation of the important politico-strategical decision of the French
Government to concentrate its entire fleet in the Mediterranean. The
pretext alleged for the measure was furnished by controversies which
arose between France and Italy during the Tripolitan war. France
feared—so it was said—the possibility of a closer co-operation of the
Powers of the Triple Alliance in the Mediterranean. In this way, popular
opinion in Italy was excited against France—but against France only; and
the British Government was well pleased at this. The London Cabinet
remained, as ever, the good friend and guardian of Italy. But the
initial calculation of English and French diplomatists: namely, to
separate either Italy or Turkey from Germany, had failed. The campaign
in Tripoli, and the seizure of Libya by the Italians, had, on the
contrary, drawn Italy nearer to her allies. It is evident that Germany
tried as hard as possible to strengthen these tendencies of the Italian
Government, and that she made every effort to restore peace as quickly
as possible. England, France, and Russia labored just as
actively—perhaps even more so—to delay the conclusion of peace.
Under the auspices of Russia, the first Balkan War broke out. The Balkan
States had concluded an alliance; they had decided, in agreement with
the Russian Government, what was to be taken from Turkey, and how the
new territories were to be divided among themselves. Turkey had
overestimated her strength; and this mistake had been shared by Germany.
After a series of rapid victories, the Balkan States succeeded in
conquering nearly the whole of European Turkey. The Bulgarian triumph
was even too great for Russia; and energetic pressure from St.
Petersburg was necessary in order to stop the Bulgarian advance on
Constantinople. This permitted the Turks to gain time, and Bulgaria’s
strength subsequently proved insufficient. In order to re-settle matters
in the Balkan Peninsula, the so-called Ambassadors’ Conference met in
London, together with the plenipotentiaries of Turkey and the Balkan
States. The British Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, himself presided
over the Conference.
The question has been raised in Germany as to whether England knew
beforehand that the first Balkan War was going to break out, and as to
whether she herself instigated it. It is incontestable that both the
British Government and the Balkan Committee knew of the existence of the
Balkan Alliance, and were acquainted with the latter’s aims. It is, on
the other hand, not to be supposed that the British Government directly
organised or instigated the war, for the simple reason that it did not
need a war. The vehicle put in motion by the British Government was
already rolling along the track, without it being necessary to push it;
and it is not the custom of British statesmen to give unnecessary
publicity to their intentions—on the contrary. The anti-Turkish
agitation in the Balkans was always favored by England. As soon as it
had been seen that the Young Turks, in spite of their original
preference for France and England, had come to recognise that the real
interests of Turkey demanded the maintenance of a close and cordial
friendship with Germany, the admiration felt in London in 1909 for the
new “liberators” came to a speedy end; henceforth no effort was spared
by British emissaries to keep up a permanent war in Albania, permanent
Armenian unrest in Asia Minor, and a chronic state of revolt in South
Arabia: all this, of course, in the name of Christianity, civilisation,
and liberty. In 1912 and 1913 Great Britain judged the Balkan problem
more or less in the following terms: the destruction of the Turkish
Empire in Europe could not be disadvantageous to British interests as
such, but it would under all circumstances render the situation of
Austria-Hungary and Germany in the Balkans uncommonly difficult, and
would necessarily weaken both Powers immensely in the future war. In the
eyes of the outside observer British diplomacy had the merit of working
for the maintenance of the _status quo_, and in view of the limitation
of the war; and this “virtue in the sight of the world” was undoubtedly
an advantage. The British Government worked, of course, hand-in-hand
with Germany, Austria-Hungary, Russia, and France; it had the greatest
admiration for the Balkan States, but also deep sympathy for Turkey, who
had, unfortunately, not listened in time to England’s disinterested
counsels. With laudable energy Sir Edward Grey supported Servia’s
claims, which were incompatible with Austrian interests; and most
intelligently did he encourage Austria-Hungary’s policy of
temporisation. Devoted, as usual, to the cause of peace, Sir Edward
assisted the Powers to create an independent Albania, and then did
everything he could to make the Albanian question an apple of discord
between Austria and Italy. All these events are too near our own times,
and are too directly bound up with the present, for us to be able to
submit them here to detailed critical analysis. It is certain that
England knew from the beginning that she must inevitably be the winner
in the Balkans, in whatever manner the affairs of the Peninsula should
develop, and whatever should be the solution of each problem in itself.
The secret of England’s strength has always resided therein, that she
has never allowed her attention to be distracted by secondary problems;
she has always had one great main object in view, and she seeks
unceasingly to approach ever nearer the realisation of this fundamental
aim. She cares not which way is taken, nor what means are adopted,
neither does she mind if delays should occur. With the one goal always
before her eyes, she works alternately with this and with that Power,
appearing first of all as representative of one group of Powers,
subsequently as the representative of another, later on co-operating
with both, and finally equally far from both; to-day threatening,
to-morrow coaxing, the day after to-morrow apparently disinterested and
detached, always indifferent to questions of form, and caring only for
the substance. Thus it happens that England’s political and diplomatic
apparatus possesses wonderful freedom of action; that the direction in
which the ship of state is steered can be easily changed to suit the
winds and the tides; and that the loss of strength due to inner friction
is reduced to a minimum.
During the Balkan Wars British policy manifested on more than one
occasion friendly and loving anxiety about German interests in the
Mediterranean. The London Cabinet took pleasure in tapping the “German
cousin” on the shoulder, and pointing towards Syria and Asia Minor—with
such insistence that anxiety arose in Paris and St. Petersburg about the
“German aspirations.” British diplomatists whispered in the ears of the
Turks that Germany desired a partition of the Ottoman Empire, and had
already prepared for herself a sphere of interest in Asia Minor. In
Berlin, on the other hand, the British representatives showed anxious
faces; they declared that, as a consequence of the victories of the
Balkan States, the position obtained by Russia was becoming a danger for
England. It was sought, in this way, to persuade the German statesmen
that England needed the help of Germany, and that the former was quite
willing secretly to undermine the Triple Entente, and to effect a
rapprochement with the German Empire. In reality all these manipulations
were the result of careful calculations, and were intended to cast a
veil over the real aim of British policy in the Near East. This aim was
to accentuate and increase the divergencies between Russia and Germany
in that part of the world. Whereas it was endeavored to make German
statesmen believe that England was very anxious, and needed Germany’s
assistance—in other words, that she was being driven by necessity over
to Germany’s side, the whole thing was nothing but an English trick. As
a matter of fact, England had no special reasons for anxiety; for she
knew that the further expansion of Russia in the Balkans must call in
question the existence of Austria-Hungary; in this way would the great
conflict have broken out, or else the Central Powers would have given
way. England did not desire a rapprochement with Germany, she only
pretended to desire it. The main thing was, that Germany should believe
this desire to be sincere. The Cabinets in Paris and St. Petersburg were
perfectly at ease about the matter, and knew full well that, should any
serious difficulty arise, Great Britain would at once support them
actively. Such was the case at the end of 1913, when the question of the
German Military Mission to Constantinople arose. When England, this
time, took up in conjunction with Russia and France so resolutely
hostile an attitude towards Germany, the value of the famous
Anglo-German “intimacy” became evident for all those who, having eyes,
wished to see things as they were.
He who, in those days, was so foolish as to lack confidence, was always
reminded of the Anglo-German negotiations concerning Central Africa and
the railroads of Asia Minor. Early in 1914 came the further negotiations
concerning petroleum springs in Persia. To-day it is not yet possible to
discuss these matters freely and openly, but this much can be said: the
Anglo-German negotiations in question were, partly at any rate, means
whereby the attention of the Germans might be withdrawn from the
systematic and carefully planned development of the preparations for war
in England, France, and Russia. In the middle of the Anglo-German
honeymoon in 1913 and 1914, British and Russian officers were busy
drawing up the Naval Convention which provided for attacking operations
to be undertaken in common by the British and Russian fleets in the
Baltic, and, in conjunction with the Russian army, against the German
coast. The English press spoke a lot about the new friendship with
Germany; only when the navies of the two countries came under
discussion, did it betray anxiety. Mr. Churchill spoke of the German
fleet as a “luxury,” and made one tactless attempt after another to
bring about a naval “understanding.” The object of such an
“understanding” was, as usual, to reduce the strength of the German navy
in such a way that the British fleet should run no risk in attacking it.
Several people in Germany actively seconded these laudable efforts, in
order to consolidate the friendship between the two Powers.
About the same time, certain London newspapers, which are known to
entertain friendly relations with the British Foreign Office, declared
that real peace could not exist in Europe until the “burning question of
Alsace-Lorraine had been settled.” Once more was the value of the
much-vaunted Anglo-German friendship clear to those whose eyes proved
capable of seeing things as they were. On either side of the water,
enthusiastic speeches celebrated that friendship, while all the time the
noise could be heard of the colossal armaments in France and Russia and
the language of the French and Russian press was not less menacing than
the armaments themselves. In Germany, all this was declared to be mere
boasting. As long as we had England as a friend, everything else was
immaterial. The news concerning the immense development of the Russian
armaments, and especially the minute care with which they were
methodically planned and carried out, was treated in Germany with
scepticism. It never occurred to the majority of the Germans that, if
England had entertained feelings of sincere friendship for Germany, she
would never have tolerated a dangerous growth of French and Russian
armaments. The few who insisted on this fact—who maintained that not
only did England tolerate the constant increase of dangerous tension,
but that she was the leader and organiser of an European coalition
against the German Empire: these were treated as “loud-mouthed jingoes”
incapable of appreciating the value of Anglo-German friendship.
Let us suppose for a minute that the Heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne
had not been murdered in June, 1914; and let us also suppose that the
Anglo-German negotiations in the Near East and in Central Africa had
been brought to a conclusion, as the Germans had hoped. Would, in this
case, a stable order of things have resulted? England certainly hoped
for such stability, but only as regards an order of things favorable to
her own interests. Her calculation was approximately as follows: owing
to the accomplishment of her wishes in Asia Minor and Central Africa,
Germany would be kept very busy (in an economic sense) for a long time
to come. Much money would be invested in the undertakings, and the
tendency to spend immense sums for military purposes would gradually
disappear in Germany. The new position of ever-growing importance
occupied by Germany in the Near East, would rapidly cause the antagonism
between her and Russia to increase. England would often have the
opportunity of employing Germany to checkmate Russia, instead of having
to intervene directly herself. At the same time, French dissatisfaction
with Germany would augment. The German Empire, on the other hand, would
have full confidence in England’s friendship, and be fully convinced of
the latter’s pacific intentions. The new colonial undertakings must
necessarily multiply the weak spots in the defence of the German Empire,
by increasing the number of points where it could be attacked; in this
way would the Empire’s strength of decision, and its determination to
risk everything in a war, be weakened. The German nation would become
more and more accessible to the argument according to which Germany,
having obtained from England’s benevolence all she desired, must in
return do her best to show her “good will.” The era of “feverish
armaments” would be at an end. Viewed from this standpoint, it becomes
evident that England’s policy of “confidential friendship” aimed first
of all at unnerving Germany; after which, a reduction of the latter’s
military and naval strength must follow as a natural consequence. It
would then be all the easier for England’s well-armed Continental
vassals, France and Russia, either to obtain the break-up of the
Austro-German alliance, and the humiliation of the two Central Powers,
by threats; or else to force these Powers on to their knees at the point
of the bayonet. Whenever necessary, whenever a grave crisis should
arise, England would throw the whole weight of her influence into the
balance; and her “advice” would be considered the more acceptable, in
the measure that the German people were convinced of the sincerity and
disinterestedness of British friendship. The only thing necessary was
patience.
All these plans were disturbed by the assassination of the Archduke
Francis Ferdinand. Events pursued the course that we all know. As soon
as the European situation became dangerously strained, the British
Government retreated into the background, made perfidious proposals of
mediation to Germany, and advised everyone to remain peaceful. We have
here, likewise, a time-honored historical method of British diplomacy.
In this way does the latter coin the phrases which, once war has broken
out, shall serve to justify the British Government, and to inflame the
public opinion of as many countries as possible. In this way does that
Government collect “unimpeachable” diplomatic documents for Blue Books.
In this way does it wait until the final developments of the crisis
engineered by England herself produce the great and decisive “phrase,”
which shall be adopted as the British parole during the war. This time
it was the phrase about Belgium’s neutrality—a neutrality broken by
England systematically for the past nine years. As soon as the great
phrase had been coined, England appeared suddenly as the leader of the
European anti-German coalition, and proclaimed: Germany must be
annihilated, militarily, politically, economically. And, all over the
world, deeds immediately followed words. The definitely fixed, carefully
planned-out programme had only to be followed. It was followed, and yet
are there still to-day people in Germany who maintain that England was
led astray by the wicked diplomatists of France and Russia, and was
driven against her will into war. Some representatives of this opinion
belong to the hopeless category of the believers in an Anglo-German
understanding, and even now they blindly refuse to recognise their
former errors of judgment; we are not appealing to them. But there are
others who have been deceived by the behavior of British diplomacy
during the crisis preceding the war. Such behavior is, we repeat,
typical. For ten years before the war every single political circle in
Great Britain—King, Ministerialists, Opposition—had prepared and
organised the European coalition, for the purpose of waging a war of
destruction against Germany. The crime of Serayevo brought about the
crisis earlier than had been expected. The moment the crisis broke out,
the leader of the European coalition retired discreetly into the
darkness, made proposals, and preached peace. England maintained that
she had not committed herself to either side, that her hands were free,
and that she only desired peace. The exchange of diplomatic notes,
during the crisis, between London, Paris, and St. Petersburg, was
nothing else but an English _mise en scène_. “Historical documents” they
are, but certainly not witnesses to historical truth.
The present war is, as we hope to have shown, a typically English war of
destruction waged against a continental rival who was at once envied and
feared. The history of the war cannot yet be written in detail. For the
purpose of the present book, such a detailed history is not—as we
believe to have proved—necessary. But what is necessary is, that the
entire German nation should understand where the enemy is and what he
wants; it is essential that the German nation should know that this is
not an accidental war, but a war carried on with the object of
annihilating an economic rival. If England’s economic rival is powerless
on land and sea, he can be throttled without a war. That was not
possible in the case of Germany. British statesmen had always two
programmes in readiness, and clearly defined: peace, if Germany gave way
and allowed herself to be humiliated; war, if it should be otherwise.
Germany desired only peace, believed only in peace, and was convinced
that England would take no part in a war against her, if only the German
Empire would promise to make no profit out of a Continental war—that is
to say, if it would promise to act like a good boy in conformity with
what were wrongly supposed to be England’s wishes. It was only natural
that the London Cabinet should not have accepted this point of view; for
it was very far indeed from sharing the German ideas, aspirations, and
anxieties! It intended to destroy Germany; and its only concern was: how
to arrange the final _mise en scène_ which should set the ball rolling.
THE END
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.