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THE WORLD CRISIS
BY
THE RT. HON. WINSTON S. CHURCHILL
FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY
1911 TO 1915
TORONTO
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
AT MARTIN’S HOUSE
MCMXXIII
COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
Published April, 1923
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
From October 25, 1911, to May 28, 1915, I was, in the words of the Royal
Letters Patent and Orders in Council, “responsible to Crown and
Parliament for all the business of the Admiralty.” This period comprised
the final stage in the preparation against a war with Germany; the
mobilisation and concentration of the Fleet before the outbreak; the
organisation of the Blockade; the gathering in 1914 of the Imperial
forces from all over the world; the clearance from the oceans of all the
German cruisers and commerce destroyers; the reinforcement of the Fleet
by new construction in 1914 and 1915; the frustration and defeat of the
first German submarine attack upon merchant shipping in 1915; and the
initiation of the enterprise against the Dardanelles. It was marked
before the war by a complete revision of British naval war plans; by the
building of a fast division of battleships armed with 15–inch guns and
driven by oil fuel; by the proposals, rejected by Germany, for a naval
holiday; and by the largest supplies till then ever voted by Parliament
for the British Fleet. It was distinguished during the war for the
victories of the Heligoland Bight, of the Falkland Islands and the
Dogger Bank; and for the attempt to succour Antwerp. It was memorable
for the disaster to the three cruisers off the Dutch Coast; the loss of
Admiral Cradock’s squadron at Coronel; and the failure of the Navy to
force the Dardanelles.
Many accounts of these matters have been published both here and abroad.
Most of the principal actors have unfolded their story. Lord Fisher,
Lord Jellicoe, Lord French, Lord Kitchener’s biographer, Lord Haig’s
Staff, and many others of less importance, have with the utmost fullness
and freedom given their account of these and other war-time events and
of the controversies arising out of them. The German accounts are
numerous and authoritative. Admirals von Tirpitz and Scheer have told
their tales. Sir Julian Corbett, the Official Historian, has in a
thousand pages recorded the conduct of the naval war during the whole of
my administration. Eight years have passed since I quitted the
Admiralty.
In all these circumstances I feel it both my right and my duty to set
forth the manner in which I endeavoured to discharge my share in these
hazardous responsibilities. In doing so I have adhered to certain strict
rules. I have made no important statement of fact relating to naval
operations or Admiralty business, on which I do not possess
unimpeachable documentary proof. I have made or implied no criticism of
any decision or action taken or neglected by others unless I can prove
that I had expressed the same opinion in writing _before the event_.
Many of the accounts which I have mentioned above enjoy the great
advantage of having been written some considerable time after the events
with which they deal, when the results of schemes and operations set on
foot in the early days of the war could be clearly seen, and when the
ideas and impressions of 1914 and 1915 could be reviewed in the broad
and certain experience and science of 1918 and after. There are no doubt
obvious conveniences in this way of treating the subject. Actors in
these great situations are able to dwell with certainty upon those of
their opinions and directions which have effectively been vindicated by
the subsequent course of the war, and they are not, on the other hand,
obliged to disturb the public mind by dwelling on any errors of neglect
or commission into which they may possibly have been betrayed. I have
followed a different method.
In every case where the interests of the State allow, I have printed the
actual memoranda, directions, minutes, telegrams or letters written by
me at the time, irrespective of whether these documents have been
vindicated or falsified by the march of history and of time. The only
excisions of relevant matter from the documents have been made to avoid
needlessly hurting the feelings of individuals, or the pride of friendly
nations. For such reasons here and there sentences have been softened or
suppressed. But the whole story is recorded as it happened, by the
actual counsels offered and orders given in the fierce turmoil of each
day. The principal minutes by which Admiralty business was conducted
embody in every case decisions for which, as the highest executive
authority in the department, I was directly responsible, and are in all
cases expressed in my own words. I am equally accountable, together with
the First Sea Lord at the time, for the principal telegrams which moved
fleets, squadrons and individual ships, all of which (unless the
contrary appears) bear my initials as their final sanction.
The number of minutes and telegrams published in these volumes is, of
course, only a fraction of the whole. Restricted space and the fear of
wearying the reader have excluded much. But lest it should be thought
that there have been any material suppressions, or that what is
published does not truly represent what occurred, or the way things were
done, I affirm my own willingness to see every document of Admiralty
administration for which I am responsible made public provided it is
presented in its fair context. Sometimes a dozen or even a score of
important decisions had to be taken in a single day. Complicated
directions and recommendations were given in writing as fast as they
could be dictated, and were acted upon without recall thereafter.
Nothing of any consequence was done by me by word of mouth. A complete
record therefore exists both of executive and administrative action.
If in the great number of decisions and orders which these pages recount
and which deal with so many violent and controversial affairs, mistakes
can be found which led to mishap, the fault is mine. If, on the other
hand, favourable results were achieved, that should be counted to some
extent as an offset. Where the decision lay outside my powers and was
taken contrary to my advice, I rest on the written record of my warning.
Should it be objected that in any of these matters, many of them so
highly technical, a landsman and layman could form no valuable opinion,
I point to the documents themselves. They can be judged as they stand,
but lest, on the other hand, it should be thought that I am seeking to
claim credit which is not mine, it must be remembered that throughout
this period I enjoyed the assistance, loyal, spontaneous and unstinted,
of the best brains of the Royal Navy, that every treasure of every
branch of the Admiralty and the Fleet was lavished upon my instruction,
and that I had only to apply my own reason and instinct to the arguments
of those who I believe stood in the foremost rank of the naval experts
of the world.
Taking a general view in after years of the transactions of this
terrific epoch, I commend with some confidence the story as a whole to
the judgment of my countrymen. It has long been the fashion to disparage
the policy and actions of the Ministers who bore the burden of power in
the fateful years before the War, and who faced the extraordinary perils
of its outbreak and opening phases. Abroad, in Allied, in neutral, and
above all, in enemy States, their work is regarded with respect and even
admiration. At home, criticism has been its only meed. I hope that this
account may be agreeable to those at least who wish to think well of our
country, of its naval service, of its governing institutions, of its
political life and public men; and that they will feel that perhaps
after all Britain and her Empire have not been so ill-guided through the
great convulsions as it is customary to declare.
Lastly, I must record my thanks to Vice-Admiral Thomas Jackson and
others who have aided me in the preparation and revision of this work,
especially in its technical aspect, and to those who have given me
permission to quote correspondence or conversations in which they were
concerned.
[Illustration: Winston S. Churchill]
LONDON, _January, 1923_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE VIALS OF WRATH 1
II MILESTONES TO ARMAGEDDON 19
III THE CRISIS OF AGADIR 38
IV ADMIRALS ALL 68
V THE GERMAN NAVY LAW 95
VI THE ROMANCE OF DESIGN 125
VII THE NORTH SEA FRONT 149
VIII IRELAND AND THE EUROPEAN BALANCE 179
IX THE CRISIS 203
X THE MOBILISATION OF THE NAVY 228
XI WAR: THE PASSAGE OF THE ARMY 247
XII THE BATTLE IN FRANCE 281
XIII ON THE OCEANS 305
XIV IN THE NARROW SEAS 330
XV ANTWERP 355
XVI THE CHANNEL PORTS 391
XVII THE GRAND FLEET AND THE SUBMARINE ALARM 413
XVIII CORONEL AND THE FALKLANDS 442
XIX WITH FISHER AT THE ADMIRALTY 479
XX THE BOMBARDMENT OF SCARBOROUGH AND HARTLEPOOL 502
XXI TURKEY AND THE BALKANS 522
APPENDIX A _Naval Staff Training_ 552
APPENDIX B _Tables of Fleet Strength_ 558
APPENDIX C _Trade Protection_ 562
APPENDIX D _Mining_ 566
APPENDIX E _First Lord’s Minutes_ 570
INDEX 579
TABLE OF MAPS
AT PAGE
I HOME WATERS 224
II THE ESCAPE OF THE “GOEBEN” 274
III ON THE OCEANS 328
IV ANTWERP AND THE BELGIUM COAST 360
V CORONEL AND THE FALKLANDS 476
VI THE 16TH DECEMBER, 1914 518
OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
THE SEVENTEEN POINTS OF THE FIRST LORD 206
FACSIMILE OF ADMIRALTY’S INSTRUCTIONS TO THE
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF AT DEVONPORT _facing page_ 474
CHAPTER I
THE VIALS OF WRATH
1870–1904
“To put on record what were their grounds of feud.”
HERODOTUS.
The Unending Task—Ruthless War—The Victorian Age—National
Pride—National Accountability—The Franco-German Feud—Bismarck’s
Apprehension—His Precautions and Alliances—The Bismarckian Period
and System—The Young Emperor and Caprivi—The Franco-Russian
Alliance, 1892—The Balance of Power—Anglo-German Ties—Anglo-German
Estrangement—Germany and the South African War—The Beginnings of
the German Navy—The Birth of a Challenge—The Anglo-Japanese
Alliance—The Russo-Japanese War—Consequences—The Anglo-French
Agreement of 1904—Lord Rosebery’s Comment—The Triple
Entente—Degeneration in Turkey and Austria—The Long Descent—The
Sinister Hypothesis.
It was the custom in the palmy days of Queen Victoria for statesmen to
expatiate upon the glories of the British Empire, and to rejoice in that
protecting Providence which had preserved us through so many dangers and
brought us at length into a secure and prosperous age. Little did they
know that the worst perils had still to be encountered and that the
greatest triumphs were yet to be won.
Children were taught of the Great War against Napoleon as the
culminating effort in the history of the British peoples, and they
looked on Waterloo and Trafalgar as the supreme achievements of British
arms by land and sea. These prodigious victories, eclipsing all that had
gone before, seemed the fit and predestined ending to the long drama of
our island race, which had advanced over a thousand years from small and
weak beginnings to a foremost position in the world. Three separate
times in three different centuries had the British people rescued Europe
from a military domination. Thrice had the Low Countries been assailed;
by Spain, by the French Monarchy, by the French Empire. Thrice had
British war and policy, often maintained single-handed, overthrown the
aggressor. Always at the outset the strength of the enemy had seemed
overwhelming, always the struggle had been prolonged through many years
and across awful hazards, always the victory had at last been won: and
the last of all the victories had been the greatest of all, gained after
the most ruinous struggle and over the most formidable foe.
Surely that was the end of the tale as it was so often the end of the
book. History showed the rise, culmination, splendour, transition and
decline of States and Empires. It seemed inconceivable that the same
series of tremendous events through which since the days of Queen
Elizabeth we had three times made our way successfully, should be
repeated a fourth time and on an immeasurably larger scale. Yet that is
what has happened, and what we have lived to see.
* * * * *
The Great War through which we have passed differed from all ancient
wars in the immense power of the combatants and their fearful agencies
of destruction, and from all modern wars in the utter ruthlessness with
which it was fought. All the horrors of all the ages were brought
together, and not only armies but whole populations were thrust into the
midst of them. The mighty educated States involved conceived with reason
that their very existence was at stake. Germany having let Hell loose
kept well in the van of terror; but she was followed step by step by the
desperate and ultimately avenging nations she had assailed. Every
outrage against humanity or international law was repaid by reprisals
often on a greater scale and of longer duration. No truce or parley
mitigated the strife of the armies. The wounded died between the lines:
the dead mouldered into the soil. Merchant ships and neutral ships and
hospital ships were sunk on the seas and all on board left to their
fate, or killed as they swam. Every effort was made to starve whole
nations into submission without regard to age or sex. Cities and
monuments were smashed by artillery. Bombs from the air were cast down
indiscriminately. Poison gas in many forms stifled or seared the
soldiers. Liquid fire was projected upon their bodies. Men fell from the
air in flames, or were smothered, often slowly, in the dark recesses of
the sea. The fighting strength of armies was limited only by the manhood
of their countries. Europe and large parts of Asia and Africa became one
vast battlefield on which after years of struggle not armies but nations
broke and ran. When all was over, Torture and Cannibalism were the only
two expedients that the civilised, scientific, Christian States had been
able to deny themselves: and these were of doubtful utility.
But nothing daunted the valiant heart of man. Son of the Stone Age,
vanquisher of nature with all her trials and monsters, he met the awful
and self-inflicted agony with new reserves of fortitude. Freed in the
main by his intelligence from mediæval fears, he marched to death with
sombre dignity. His nervous system was found in the twentieth century
capable of enduring physical and moral stresses before which the simpler
natures of primeval times would have collapsed. Again and again to the
hideous bombardment, again and again from the hospital to the front,
again and again to the hungry submarines, he strode unflinching. And
withal, as an individual, preserved through these torments the glories
of a reasonable and compassionate mind.
* * * * *
In the beginning of the twentieth century men were everywhere
unconscious of the rate at which the world was growing. It required the
convulsion of the war to awaken the nations to the knowledge of their
strength. For a year after the war had begun hardly anyone understood
how terrific, how almost inexhaustible were the resources in force, in
substance, in virtue, behind every one of the combatants. The vials of
wrath were full: but so were the reservoirs of power. From the end of
the Napoleonic Wars and still more after 1870, the accumulation of
wealth and health by every civilised community had been practically
unchecked. Here and there a retarding episode had occurred. The waves
had recoiled after advancing: but the mounting tides still flowed. And
when the dread signal of Armageddon was made, mankind was found to be
many times stronger in valour, in endurance, in brains, in science, in
apparatus, in organisation, not only than it had ever been before, but
than even its most audacious optimists had dared to dream.
The Victorian Age was the age of accumulation; not of a mere piling up
of material wealth, but of the growth and gathering in every land of all
those elements and factors which go to make up the power of States.
Education spread itself over the broad surface of the millions. Science
had opened the limitless treasure-house of nature. Door after door had
been unlocked. One dim mysterious gallery after another had been lighted
up, explored, made free for all: and every gallery entered gave access
to at least two more. Every morning when the world woke up, some new
machinery had started running. Every night while the world had supper,
it was running still. It ran on while all men slept.
And the advance of the collective mind was at a similar pace. Disraeli
said of the early years of the nineteenth century, “In those days
England was for the few—and for the very few.” Every year of Queen
Victoria’s reign saw those limits broken and extended. Every year
brought in new thousands of people in private stations who thought about
their own country and its story and its duties towards other countries,
to the world and to the future, and understood the greatness of the
responsibilities of which they were the heirs. Every year diffused a
wider measure of material comfort among the higher ranks of labour.
Substantial progress was made in mitigating the hard lot of the mass.
Their health improved, their lives and the lives of their children were
brightened, their stature grew, their securities against some of their
gravest misfortunes were multiplied, their numbers greatly increased.
Thus when all the trumpets sounded, every class and rank had something
to give to the need of the State. Some gave their science and some their
wealth, some gave their business energy and drive, and some their
wonderful personal prowess, and some their patient strength or patient
weakness. But none gave more, or gave more readily, than the common man
or woman who had nothing but a precarious week’s wages between them and
poverty, and owned little more than the slender equipment of a cottage,
and the garments in which they stood upright. Their love and pride of
country, their loyalty to the symbols with which they were familiar,
their keen sense of right and wrong as they saw it, led them to outface
and endure perils and ordeals the like of which men had not known on
earth.
But these developments, these virtues, were no monopoly of any one
nation. In every free country, great or small, the spirit of patriotism
and nationality grew steadily; and in every country, bond or free, the
organisation and structure into which men were fitted by the laws,
gathered and armed this sentiment. Far more than their vices, the
virtues of nations ill-directed or mis-directed by their rulers, became
the cause of their own undoing and of the general catastrophe. And these
rulers, in Germany, Austria, and Italy; in France, Russia or Britain,
how far were they to blame? Was there any man of real eminence and
responsibility whose devil heart conceived and willed this awful thing?
One rises from the study of the causes of the Great War with a
prevailing sense of the defective control of individuals upon world
fortunes. It has been well said, “there is always more error than design
in human affairs.” The limited minds even of the ablest men, their
disputed authority, the climate of opinion in which they dwell, their
transient and partial contributions to the mighty problem, that problem
itself so far beyond their compass, so vast in scale and detail, so
changing in its aspect—all this must surely be considered before the
complete condemnation of the vanquished or the complete acquittal of the
victors can be pronounced. Events also got on to certain lines, and no
one could get them off again. Germany clanked obstinately, recklessly,
awkwardly towards the crater and dragged us all in with her. But fierce
resentment dwelt in France, and in Russia there were wheels within
wheels. Could we in England perhaps by some effort, by some sacrifice of
our material interests, by some compulsive gesture, at once of
friendship and command, have reconciled France and Germany in time and
formed that grand association on which alone the peace and glory of
Europe would be safe? I cannot tell. I only know that we tried our best
to steer our country through the gathering dangers of the armed peace
without bringing her to war or others to war, and when these efforts
failed, we drove through the tempest without bringing her to
destruction.
* * * * *
There is no need here to trace the ancient causes of quarrel between the
Germans and the French, to catalogue the conflicts with which they have
scarred the centuries, nor to appraise the balance of injury or of
provocation on one side or the other. When on the 18th of January, 1871,
the triumph of the Germans was consolidated by the Proclamation of the
German Empire in the Palace of Versailles, a new volume of European
history was opened. “Europe,” it was said, “has lost a mistress and has
gained a master.” A new and mighty State had come into being, sustained
by an overflowing population, equipped with science and learning,
organised for war and crowned with victory. France, stripped of Alsace
and Lorraine, beaten, impoverished, divided and alone, condemned to a
decisive and increasing numerical inferiority, fell back to ponder in
shade and isolation on her departed glories.
But the chiefs of the German Empire were under no illusions as to the
formidable character and implacable resolves of their prostrate
antagonist. “What we gained by arms in half a year,” said Moltke, “we
must protect by arms for half a century, if it is not to be torn from us
again.” Bismarck, more prudent still, would never have taken Lorraine.
Forced by military pressure to assume the double burden against his
better judgment, he exhibited from the outset and in every act of his
policy an extreme apprehension. Restrained by the opinion of the world,
and the decided attitude of Great Britain, from striking down a reviving
France in 1875, he devoted his whole power and genius to the
construction of an elaborate system of alliances designed to secure the
continued ascendancy of Germany and the maintenance of her conquests. He
knew the quarrel with France was irreconcilable except at a price which
Germany would never consent to pay. He understood that the abiding
enmity of a terrific people would be fixed on his new-built Empire.
Everything else must be subordinated to that central fact. Germany could
afford no other antagonisms. In 1879 he formed an alliance with Austria.
Four years later this was expanded into the Triple Alliance between
Germany, Austria and Italy. Roumania was brought into this system by a
secret alliance in 1883. Not only must there be Insurance; there must be
Reinsurance. What he feared most was a counteralliance between France
and Russia; and none of these extending arrangements met this danger.
His alliance with Austria indeed, if left by itself, would naturally
tend to draw France and Russia together. Could he not make a league of
the three Emperors—Germany, Austria, and Russia united? There at last
was overwhelming strength and enduring safety. When in 1887 after six
years, this supreme ideal of Bismarck was ruptured by the clash of
Russian and Austrian interests in the Balkans, he turned—as the best
means still open to him—to his Reinsurance Treaty with Russia. Germany,
by this arrangement, secured herself against becoming the object of an
aggressive combination by France and Russia. Russia on the other hand
was reassured that the Austro-German alliance would not be used to
undermine her position in the Balkans.
All these cautious and sapient measures were designed with the object of
enabling Germany to enjoy her victory in peace. The Bismarckian system,
further, always included the principle of good relations with Great
Britain. This was necessary, for it was well known that Italy would
never willingly commit herself to anything that would bring her into war
with Great Britain, and had, as the world now knows, required this fact
to be specifically stated in the original and secret text of the Triple
Alliance. To this Alliance in its early years Great Britain had been
wholly favourable. Thus France was left to nurse her scars alone; and
Germany, assured in her predominance on the Continent, was able to take
the fullest advantage of the immense industrial developments which
characterised the close of the nineteenth century. The policy of Germany
further encouraged France as a consolation to develop her colonial
possessions in order to take her thoughts off Europe, and incidentally
to promote a convenient rivalry and friction with Great Britain.
This arrangement, under which Europe lived rigidly but peacefully for
twenty years, and Germany waxed in power and splendour, was ended in
1890 with the fall of Bismarck. The Iron Chancellor was gone, and new
forces began to assail the system he had maintained with consummate
ability so long. There was a constant danger of conflagration in the
Balkans and in the Near East through Turkish misgovernment. The rising
tides of pan-Slavism and the strong anti-German currents in Russia began
to wash against the structure of the Reinsurance Treaty. Lastly, German
ambitions grew with German prosperity. Not content with the hegemony of
Europe, she sought a colonial domain. Already the greatest of military
Empires, she began increasingly to turn her thoughts to the sea. The
young Emperor, freed from Bismarck and finding in Count Caprivi, and the
lesser men who succeeded him, complacent coadjutors, began gaily to
dispense with the safeguards and precautions by which the safety of
Germany had been buttressed. While the quarrel with France remained open
and undying, the Reinsurance Treaty with Russia was dropped, and later
on the naval rivalry with Britain was begun. These two sombre decisions
rolled forward slowly as the years unfolded. Their consequences became
apparent in due season. In 1892 the event against which the whole policy
of Bismarck had been directed came to pass. The Dual Alliance was signed
between Russia and France. Although the effects were not immediately
visible, the European situation was in fact transformed. Henceforward,
for the undisputed but soberly exercised predominance of Germany, there
was substituted a balance of power. Two vast combinations, each
disposing of enormous military resources, dwelt together at first side
by side but gradually face to face.
* * * * *
Although the groupings of the great Powers had thus been altered
sensibly to the disadvantage of Germany, there was in this alteration
nothing that threatened her with war. The abiding spirit of France had
never abandoned the dream of recovering the lost provinces, but the
prevailing temper of the French nation was pacific, and all classes
remained under the impression of the might of Germany and of the
terrible consequences likely to result from war.
Moreover, the French were never sure of Russia in a purely Franco-German
quarrel. True, there was the Treaty; but the Treaty to become operative
required aggression on the part of Germany. What constitutes aggression?
At what point in a dispute between two heavily armed parties, does one
side or the other become the aggressor? At any rate there was a wide
field for discretionary action on the part of Russia. Of all these
matters she would be the judge, and she would be the judge at a moment
when it might be said that the Russian people would be sent to die in
millions over a quarrel between France and Germany in which they had no
direct interest. The word of the Tsar was indeed a great assurance. But
Tsars who tried to lead their nations, however honourably, into
unpopular wars might disappear. The policy of a great people, if hung
too directly upon the person of a single individual, was liable to be
changed by his disappearance. France, therefore, could never feel
certain that if on any occasion she resisted German pressure and war
resulted, Russia would march.
Such was the ponderous balance which had succeeded the unquestioned
ascendancy of Germany. Outside both systems rested England, secure in an
overwhelming and as yet unchallenged, naval supremacy. It was evident
that the position of the British Empire received added importance from
the fact that adhesion to either Alliance would decide the predominance
of strength. But Lord Salisbury showed no wish to exploit this
favourable situation. He maintained steadily the traditional friendly
attitude towards Germany combined with a cool detachment from
Continental entanglements.
* * * * *
It had been easy for Germany to lose touch with Russia; but the
alienation of England was a far longer process. So many props and ties
had successively to be demolished. British suspicions of Russia in Asia,
the historic antagonism to France, memories of Blenheim, of Minden and
of Waterloo, the continued disputes with France in Egypt and in the
Colonial sphere, the intimate business connexions between Germany and
England, the relationship of the Royal Families—all these constituted a
profound association between the British Empire and the leading State in
that Triple Alliance. It was no part of British policy to obstruct the
new-born Colonial aspirations of Germany, and in more than one instance,
as at Samoa, we actively assisted them. With a complete detachment from
strategic considerations, Lord Salisbury exchanged Heligoland for
Zanzibar. Still even before the fall of Bismarck the Germans did not
seem pleasant diplomatic comrades. They appeared always to be seeking to
enlist our aid and reminding us that they were our only friend. To
emphasise this they went even farther. They sought in minor ways to
embroil us with France and Russia. Each year the Wilhelmstrasse looked
inquiringly to the Court of St. James’s for some new service or
concession which should keep Germany’s diplomatic goodwill alive for a
further period. Each year they made mischief for us with France and
Russia, and pointed the moral of how unpopular Great Britain was, what
powerful enemies she had, and how lucky she was to find a friend in
Germany. Where would she be in the councils of Europe if German
assistance were withdrawn, or if Germany threw her influence into the
opposing combination? These manifestations, prolonged for nearly twenty
years, produced very definite sensations of estrangement in the minds of
the rising generation at the British Foreign Office.
But none of these woes of diplomatists deflected the steady course of
British policy. The Colonial expansion of Germany was viewed with easy
indifference by the British Empire. In spite of their rivalry in trade,
there grew up a far more important commercial connexion between Britain
and Germany. In Europe we were each other’s best customers. Even the
German Emperor’s telegram to President Kruger on the Jameson Raid in
1896, which we now know to have been no personal act but a decision of
the German Government, produced only a temporary ebullition of anger.
All the German outburst of rage against England during the Boer War, and
such attempts as were made to form a European coalition against us, did
not prevent Mr. Chamberlain in 1901 from advocating an alliance with
Germany, or the British Foreign Office from proposing in the same year
to make the Alliance between Britain and Japan into a Triple Alliance
including Germany. During this period we had at least as serious
differences with France as with Germany, and sufficient naval
superiority not to be seriously disquieted by either. We stood equally
clear of the Triple and of the Dual Alliance. We had no intention of
being drawn into a Continental quarrel. No effort by France to regain
her lost provinces appealed to the British public or to any political
party. The idea of a British Army fighting in Europe amid the mighty
hosts of the Continent was by all dismissed as utterly absurd. Only a
menace to the very life of the British nation would stir the British
Empire from its placid and tolerant detachment from Continental affairs.
But that menace Germany was destined to supply.
* * * * *
“Among the Great Powers,” said Moltke in his Military Testament,
“England necessarily requires a strong ally on the Continent. She would
not find one which corresponds better to all her interests than a United
Germany, that can never make claim to the command of the sea.”
From 1873 to 1900 the German Navy was avowedly not intended to provide
for the possibility of “a naval war against great naval Powers.” Now in
1900 came a Fleet Law of a very different kind. “For the protection of
trade and the Colonies,” declared the preamble of this document, “there
is only one thing that will suffice, namely, a strong Battle Fleet.”
In order to protect German trade and commerce under existing conditions,
only one thing will suffice, namely, Germany must possess a battle fleet
of such a strength that, even for the most powerful naval adversary, a
war would involve such risks as to make that Power’s own supremacy
doubtful.
For this purpose it is not absolutely necessary that the German Fleet
should be as strong as that of the greatest naval Power, for, as a rule,
a great naval Power will not be in a position to concentrate all its
forces against us. Even if it were successful in bringing against us a
much superior force, the defeat of a strong German Fleet would so
considerably weaken the enemy that, in spite of the victory that might
be achieved, his own supremacy would no longer be assured by a fleet of
sufficient strength.
For the attainment of this object, viz., protection of our trade and
colonies by assuring peace with honour, Germany requires, according to
the strength of the great naval Powers and with regard to our tactical
formations, two double squadrons of first-class battleships, with the
necessary attendant cruisers, torpedo boats, etc. Since the Fleet Law
provides for only two squadrons, the construction of third and fourth
squadrons is proposed. Two of these four squadrons will form one fleet.
The tactical formation of the second fleet should be similar to that of
the first as provided for in the Fleet Law.
And again:—
In addition to the increase of the Home Fleet an increase of the foreign
service ships is also necessary.... In order to estimate the importance
of an increase in our foreign service ships, it must be realised that
they represent the German Navy abroad, and that to them often falls the
task of gathering fruits which have ripened as a result of the naval
strength of the Empire embodied in the Home Battle Fleet.
And again:—
If the necessity for so strong a Fleet for Germany be recognised, it
cannot be denied that the honour and welfare of the Fatherland
authoritatively demand that the Home Fleet be brought up to the
requisite strength as soon as possible.
* * * * *
The determination of the greatest military Power on the Continent to
become at the same time at least the second naval Power was an event of
first magnitude in world affairs. It would, if carried into full effect,
undoubtedly reproduce those situations which at previous periods in
history had proved of such awful significance to the Islanders of
Britain.
Hitherto all British naval arrangements had proceeded on the basis of
the two-Power standard, namely, an adequate superiority over the next
two strongest Powers, in those days France and Russia. The possible
addition of a third European Fleet more powerful than either of these
two would profoundly affect the life of Britain. If Germany was going to
create a Navy avowedly measured against our own, we could not afford to
remain “in splendid isolation” from the European systems. We must in
these circumstances find a trustworthy friend. We found one in another
island Empire situated on the other side of the globe and also in
danger. In 1901 the Alliance was signed between Great Britain and Japan.
Still less could we afford to have dangerous causes of quarrel open both
with France and Russia. In 1902 the British Government, under Mr.
Balfour and Lord Lansdowne, definitely embarked upon the policy of
settling up our differences with France. Still, before either of these
steps were taken the hand was held out to Germany. She was invited to
join with us in the alliance with Japan. She was invited to make a joint
effort to solve the Moroccan problem. Both offers were declined.
In 1904, the war between Russia and Japan broke out. Germany sympathised
mainly with Russia; England stood ready to fulfil her treaty engagements
with Japan, while at the same time cultivating good relations with
France. In this posture the Powers awaited the result of the Far Eastern
struggle. It brought a surprise to all but one. The military and naval
overthrow of Russia by Japan and the internal convulsions of the Russian
State produced profound changes in the European situation. Although
German influence had leaned against Japan, she felt herself enormously
strengthened by the Russian collapse. Her Continental predominance was
restored. Her self-assertion in every sphere became sensibly and
immediately pronounced. France, on the other hand, weakened and once
again, for the time being, isolated and in real danger, became
increasingly anxious for an Entente with England. England, whose
statesmen with penetrating eye alone in Europe had truly measured the
martial power of Japan, gained remarkably in strength and security.
Japan, her new ally, was triumphant: France, her ancient enemy, sought
her friendship: the German fleet was still only a-building, and
meanwhile all the British battleships in China seas could now be safely
brought home.
* * * * *
The settlement of outstanding differences between England and France
proceeded, and at last in 1904 the Anglo-French Agreement was signed.
There were various clauses; but the essence of the compact was that the
French desisted from opposition to British interests in Egypt, and
Britain gave a general support to the French views about Morocco. This
agreement was acclaimed by the Conservative forces in England, among
whom the idea of the German menace had already taken root. It was also
hailed somewhat short-sightedly by Liberal statesmen as a step to secure
general peace by clearing away misunderstandings and differences with
our traditional enemy. It was therefore almost universally welcomed.
Only one profound observer raised his voice against it. “My mournful and
supreme conviction,” said Lord Rosebery, “is that this agreement is much
more likely to lead to complications than to peace.” This unwelcome
comment was indignantly spurned from widely different standpoints by
both British parties, and general censure fell upon its author.
Still, England and all that she stood for had left her isolation, and
had reappeared in Europe on the opposite side to Germany. For the first
time since 1870 Germany had to take into consideration a Power outside
her system which was in no way amenable to threats, and was not unable
if need be to encounter her single-handed. The gesture which was to
sweep Delcassé from power in 1905, the apparition “in shining armour”
which was to quell Russia in 1908, could procure no such compliance from
the independent Island girt with her Fleet and mistress of the seas.
Up to this moment the Triple Alliance had on the whole been stronger
than France and Russia. Although war against these two Powers would have
been a formidable undertaking for Germany, Austria and Italy, its
ultimate issue did not seem doubtful. But if the weight of Britain were
thrown into the adverse scale and that of Italy withdrawn from the
other, then for the first time since 1870 Germany could not feel certain
that she was on the stronger side. Would she submit to it? Would the
growing, bounding ambitions and assertions of the new German Empire
consent to a situation in which, very politely no doubt, very gradually
perhaps, but still very surely, the impression would be conveyed that
her will was no longer the final law of Europe? If Germany and her
Emperor would accept the same sort of restraint that France, Russia and
England had long been accustomed to, and would live within her rights as
an equal in a freer and easier world, all would be well. But would she?
Would she tolerate the gathering under an independent standard of
nations outside her system, strong enough to examine her claims only as
the merits appealed to them, and to resist aggression without fear? The
history of the next ten years was to supply the answer.
Side by side with these slowly marshalling and steadily arming
antagonisms between the greatest Powers, processes of degeneration were
at work in weaker Empires almost equally dangerous to peace. Forces were
alive in Turkey which threatened with destruction the old regime and its
abuses on which Germany had chosen to lean. The Christian States of the
Balkans, growing stronger year by year, awaited an opportunity to
liberate their compatriots still writhing under Turkish misrule. The
growth of national sentiment in every country created fierce strains and
stresses in the uneasily knit and crumbling Austro-Hungarian Empire. The
Balkan States saw also in this direction kinsmen to rescue, territory to
recover, and unities to achieve. Italy watched with ardent eyes the
decay of Turkey and the unrest of Austria. It was certain that from all
these regions of the South and of the East there would come a succession
of events deeply agitating both to Russia and to Germany.
To create the unfavourable conditions for herself in which Germany
afterwards brought about the war, many acts of supreme unwisdom on the
part of her rulers were nevertheless still necessary. France must be
kept in a state of continued apprehension. The Russian nation, not the
Russian Court alone, must be stung by some violent affront inflicted in
their hour of weakness. The slow, deep, restrained antagonism of the
British Empire must be roused by the continuous and repeated challenge
to the sea power by which it lived. Then and then only could those
conditions be created under which Germany by an act of aggression would
bring into being against her, a combination strong enough to resist and
ultimately to overcome her might. There was still a long road to travel
before the Vials of Wrath were full. For ten years we were to journey
anxiously along that road.
* * * * *
It was for a time the fashion to write as if the British Government
during these ten years were either entirely unconscious of the
approaching danger or had a load of secret matters and deep forebodings
on their minds hidden altogether from the thoughtless nation. In fact,
however, neither of these alternatives, taken separately, was true; and
there is a measure of truth in both of them taken together.
The British Government and the Parliaments out of which it sprang, did
not believe in the approach of a great war, and were determined to
prevent it; but at the same time the sinister hypothesis was continually
present in their thoughts, and was repeatedly brought to the attention
of Ministers by disquieting incidents and tendencies.
During the whole of those ten years this duality and discordance were
the keynote of British politics; and those whose duty it was to watch
over the safety of the country lived simultaneously in two different
worlds of thought. There was the actual visible world with its peaceful
activities and cosmopolitan aims; and there was a hypothetical world, a
world “beneath the threshold,” as it were, a world at one moment utterly
fantastic, at the next seeming about to leap into reality—a world of
monstrous shadows moving in convulsive combinations through vistas of
fathomless catastrophe.