CHAPTER I

ORDEAL BY BATTLE

BY

FREDERICK SCOTT OLIVER

With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: SIMPLE

said, _I see no danger_; SLOTH said, _Yet a little more sleep_; and

PRESUMPTION said, _Every Vat must stand upon his own bottom_. And so

they lay down to sleep again, and CHRISTIAN went on his way.

_The Pilgrim's Progress_.

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON

1915

COPYRIGHT

TO

THE MEMORY OF

HUGH DAWNAY

COMMANDING THE 2ND LIFE GUARDS

WHO WAS KILLED AT ZWARTELEEN ON THE 6TH OF NOVEMBER 1914

AND OF

JOHN GOUGH, V.C.

CHIEF OF THE STAFF OF THE FIRST ARMY

WHO FELL NEAR ESTAIRES ON THE 20TH OF FEBRUARY 1915

THEY WERE BROTHER-OFFICERS OF THE RIFLE BRIGADE

AND THOSE WHO KNEW THEM BOTH

WILL ALWAYS THINK OF THEM TOGETHER

_Works by the Same Author_

ALEXANDER HAMILTON (An Essay on American Union).

LIBRARY EDITION. Messrs. CONSTABLE & Co., London.

LIBRARY EDITION. Messrs. G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York.

POPULAR EDITION. Messrs. THOS. NELSON & SONS.

FEDERALISM AND HOME RULE (Letters of Pacificus).

THE ALTERNATIVES TO CIVIL WAR.

WHAT FEDERALISM IS NOT.

MR. JOHN MURRAY, LONDON.

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{ix}

PREFACE

It is hardly necessary to plead, in extenuation of those many faults

which any impartial reader will discover in the following pages, the

impossibility of discussing events which are unfolding themselves

around us, in the same detached spirit as if we were dealing with past

history. The greater part of this volume has been written in haste,

and no one is more alive to its shortcomings than the author himself.

Faults of style are a small matter, and will be easily forgiven. It

has not been the aim to produce a work of literary merit, but solely to

present a certain view of public affairs. It is to be hoped that

actual errors of fact are rare. Inconsistencies however--or apparent

inconsistencies--cannot be altogether avoided, even by careful

revision. But the greatest difficulty of all is to keep a true sense

of proportion.

In Part I.--_The Causes of War_--an attempt has been made to state,

very briefly, why it has hitherto proved impossible to eliminate the

appeal to arms from human affairs; to set out the main incidents which

occurred at the opening of the present European struggle; to explain

the immediate occasions, as {x} well as the more permanent and

deep-seated causes, of this conflict; to consider some of the most

glaring miscalculations which have arisen out of misunderstanding

between nations.

In Part II.--_The Spirit of German Policy_--an attempt has been made to

understand the ambitions of our chief antagonist, and to trace the

manner in which these ambitions have been fostered, forced, and

corrupted by a priesthood of learned men. The relations which exist

between this Pedantocracy and the Bureaucracy, the Army, the Rulers,

and the People of Germany have been examined. It would appear that

under an academic stimulus, healthy national ambitions have become

morbid, have resulted in the discovery of imaginary grievances, and

have led the Governing Classes of Germany to adopt a new code of morals

which, if universally adhered to, would make an end of human society.

On the other hand, it would also appear that the German People have

accepted the policy of their rulers, without in any way accepting, or

even understanding, the morality upon which this policy is founded. It

is also important for us to realise the nature of the judgment--not

altogether unjustified--which our enemies have passed upon the British

character, and upon our policy and institutions.

In Part III.--_The Spirit of British Policy_--our own political course

since the beginning of the century has been considered--the

difficulties arising out of the competition for priority between aims

which are {xi} not in themselves antagonistic: between Social Reform,

Constitutional Reform, and Imperial Defence--the confusion which has

resulted from the inadequacy of one small parliament, elected upon a

large variety of cross issues, for dealing with these diverse

needs--the lowering of the tone of public life, the depreciation in the

character of public men, which have come about owing to these two

causes, and also to a third--the steadily increasing tyranny and

corruption of the party machines.

The aim of British Foreign Policy has been simply--Security. Yet we

have failed to achieve Security, owing to our blindness, indolence, and

lack of leadership. We have refused to realise that we were not living

in the Golden Age; that Policy at the last resort depends on Armaments;

that Armaments, to be effective for their purpose, must correspond with

Policy. Political leaders of all parties up to the outbreak of the

present war ignored these essentials; or if they were aware of them, in

the recesses of their own consciousness, they failed to trust the

People with a full knowledge of the dangers which threatened their

Security, and of the means by which alone these dangers could be

withstood.

The titles of Parts II. and III. are similar--_The Spirit of German

Policy_ and _The Spirit of British Policy_; but although the titles are

similar the treatment is not the same. Confession of a certain failure

in proportion must be made frankly. The two pieces do not balance.

German Policy is viewed {xii} from without, at a remote distance, and

by an enemy. It is easier in this case to present a picture which is

clear, than one which is true. British Policy, on the of other hand,

is viewed from within. If likewise it is tinged with prejudice, the

prejudice is of a different character. Both Parts, I fear, diverge to

a greater or less extent from the main purpose of the book. Mere

excision is easy; but compression is a difficult and lengthy process,

and I have not been able to carry it so far as I could have wished.

In Part IV.--_Democracy and National Service_--an attempt has been made

to deal with a problem which faces us at the moment. Democracy is not

unlike other human institutions: it will not stand merely by its own

virtue. If it lacks the loyalty, courage, and strength to defend

itself when attacked, it must perish as certainly as if it possessed no

virtue whatsoever. Manhood suffrage implies manhood service. Without

the acceptance of this principle Democracy is merely an imposture.

I prefer 'National Service' to 'Conscription,' not because I shrink

from the word 'Conscription,' but because 'National Service' has a

wider sweep. The greater includes the less. It is not only military

duties which the State is entitled to command its citizens to perform

unquestioningly in times of danger; but also civil duties. It is not

only men between the ages of twenty and thirty-eight to whom the State

should have the right to give orders; but men and women of all ages.

Under conditions of {xiii} modern warfare it is not only armies which

need to be disciplined; but whole nations. The undisciplined nation,

engaged in anything like an equal contest with a disciplined nation,

will be defeated.

The Coalition Government

This volume was in type before the Coalition Government was formed; but

there is nothing in it which I wish to change in view of that event.

This book was not undertaken with the object of helping the Unionists

back into power, or of getting the Liberals out of power.

The new Cabinet contains those members of the late one in whom the

country has most confidence. Lord Kitchener, Sir Edward Grey, Mr.

Lloyd George, and Mr. Churchill have all made mistakes. In a great

crisis it is the bigger characters who are most liable to make

mistakes. Their superiority impels them to take risks which the

smaller men, playing always for safety, are concerned to avoid.

The present Ministry also contains representatives of that class of

politicians which, according to the view set forth in the following

pages, is primarily responsible for our present troubles.

Lawyer-statesmanship, which failed to foresee the war, to prepare

against it, and to conduct it with energy and thoroughness when it

occurred, still occupies a large share of authority. Possibly

ministers of this school {xiv} will now walk in new ways. In any case,

they are no longer in a position of dangerous predominance.

The Coalition Government, having wisely refused to part with any of

those men who rose to the emergency, and having received an infusion of

new blood (which may be expected to bring an accession of vigour)

starts upon its career with the goodwill and confidence of the People.

What has happened, however, is a revolution upon an unprecedented

scale--one which is likely to have vast consequences in the future.

The country realises this fact, and accepts it as a matter of

course--accepts it indeed with a sigh of relief. But in other

quarters, what has just happened is hardly realised at all--still less

what it is likely to lead to in the future.

During the 'Cabinet Crisis' one read a good deal of stuff in the

newspapers, and heard still more by word of mouth, which showed how

far, during the past nine months, public opinion has moved away from

the professionals of politics; how little account it takes of them;

also how much these gentlemen themselves mistake the meaning of the

present situation.

In political circles one has heard, and read, very frequently of late,

expressions of regret--on the one hand that Unionists should have come

to the assistance of a discredited and bankrupt administration--on the

other hand that a government, secure in the confidence of the country,

should, through a mistaken {xv} sense of generosity, have admitted its

opponents to a share in the glory and prestige of office. One has

read, and heard, cavillings at the idea of appointing this, or that,

public character to this, or that, office, as a thing beyond what this,

or that, party 'could fairly be expected to stand.' Reports have

appeared of meetings of 'a hundred' perturbed Liberals; and very

possibly meetings, though unreported, of equally perturbed Unionists

have also been held. An idea seems still to be prevalent in certain

quarters, that what has just occurred is nothing more important than an

awkward and temporary disarrangement of the party game; and that this

game will be resumed, with all the old patriotism and good feeling, so

soon as war is ended. But this appears to be a mistaken view. You

cannot make a great mix-up of this sort without calling new parties

into existence. When men are thrown into the crucible of a war such as

this, the true ore will tend to run together, the dross to cake upon

the surface. No matter to what parties they may have originally owed

allegiance, the men who are in earnest, and who see realities, cannot

help but come together. May be for several generations the annual

festivals of the National Liberal Federation and the Union of

Conservative Associations will continue to be held, like other

picturesque survivals of ancient customs. When Henry VII. was crowned

at Westminster, the Wars of the Roses ended; the old factions of York

and Lancaster were dissolved, and {xvi} made way for new associations.

Something of the same sort has surely happened during the past

month--Liberal and Conservative, Radical and Tory have ceased for the

present to be real divisions. They had recently become highly

artificial and confusing; now they are gone--it is to be hoped for ever.

Will the generation which is fighting this war--such of them as may

survive--be content to go back to the old barren wrangle when it is

done? Will those others who have lost husbands, sons, brothers,

friends--all that was dearest to them except the honour and safety of

their country--will they be found willing to tolerate the idea of

trusting their destinies ever again to the same machines, to be driven

once more to disaster by the same automatons? To all except the

automatons themselves--who share with the German Supermen the credit of

having made this war--any such resumption of business on

old-established lines appears incredible. There is something pathetic

in the sight of these huckstering sentimentalists still crying their

stale wares and ancient make-believes at the street corners, while

their country is fighting for its life. They remind one, not a little,

of those Pardoners of the fourteenth century who, as we read in history

books, continued to hawk their _Indulgences_ with unabated industry

during the days of the _Black Death_.

{xvii}

It is necessary to offer a few words of explanation as to how this book

came to be written. During the months of November and December 1912

and January 1913, various meetings and discussions took place under

Lord Roberts's roof and elsewhere, between a small number of persons,

who held widely different views, and whose previous experience and

training had been as different as were their opinions.

Our efforts were concerned with endeavouring to find answers to several

questions which had never been dealt with candidly, clearly, and

comprehensively in the public statements of political leaders. It was

clear that there was no 'national' policy, which the British people had

grasped, accepted, and countersigned, as was the case in France. But

some kind of British policy there must surely be, notwithstanding the

fact it had never been disclosed. What were the aims of this policy?

With what nation or nations were these aims likely to bring us into

collision? What armaments were necessary in order to enable us to

uphold this policy and achieve these aims? How, and when, and where

would our armaments be required in the event of war? Assuming (as we

did in our discussions) that our naval forces were adequate, was the

same statement true of our military forces? And if it were not true,

by what means could the necessary increases be obtained?

The final conclusion at which we arrived was that National Service was

essential to security. {xviii} Under whatever aspect we regarded the

problem we always returned--even those of us who were most unwilling to

travel in that direction--to the same result. So long as Britain

relied solely upon the voluntary principle, we should never possess

either the Expeditionary Force or the Army for Home Defence which were

requisite for safety.

It fell to me during the winter 1912-1913 to draft the summary of our

conclusions. It was afterwards decided--in the spring of 1913--that

this private Memorandum should be recast in a popular form suitable for

publication. I was asked to undertake this, and agreed to do so. But

I underestimated both the difficulties of the task and the time which

would be necessary for overcoming them.

When we met again, in the autumn of that year, the work was still far

from complete, and by that time, not only public attention, but our

own, had become engrossed in other matters. The Irish controversy had

entered upon a most acute and dangerous stage. Lord Roberts put off

the meetings which he had arranged to address during the ensuing months

upon National Service, and threw his whole energies into the endeavour

to avert the schism which threatened the nation, and to find a way to a

peaceful settlement. Next to the security and integrity of the British

Empire I verily believe that the thing which lay nearest his heart was

the happiness and unity of Ireland.

It is needless to recall how, during the ensuing {xix} months, affairs

in Ireland continued to march from bad to worse--up to the very day

when the menace of the present war suddenly arose before the eyes of

Europe.

During August 1914 I went through the old drafts and memoranda which

had now been laid aside for nearly a year. Although that very thing

had happened which it had been the object of our efforts to avert, it

seemed to me that there might be advantages in publishing some portion

of our conclusions. The form, of course, would have to be entirely

different; for the recital of prophecies which had come true, though it

might have possessed a certain interest for the prophets themselves,

could have but little for the public.

Early in September I consulted Lord Roberts, and also such of my

friends, who had originally worked with me, as were still within reach.

Finding that their opinion agreed with my own upon the desirability of

publication, I laid out a fresh scheme, and set to for a third time at

the old task. But as the work grew, it became clear that it would

contain but little of the former Memorandum, and much which the former

Memorandum had never contemplated. So many of our original

conclusions, laboriously hammered out to convince the public in the

spring of the year 1913, had become by the autumn of 1914, the most

trite of commonplaces. And as for the practical scheme which we had

evolved--endeavouring to keep our demands at the most modest {xx}

minimum--it was interesting chiefly by reason of its triviality when

contrasted with the scale of warlike preparations upon which the

Government was now engaged. Practically, therefore, the whole of the

present volume is new--not merely redrafted, but for the most part new

in substance.

The author's acknowledgements.

I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to the friends with whom I have

studied the problems of policy and defence for some years past. The

responsibility for the contents and publication of the present volume

is mine alone; but I have used their ideas without hesitation, and have

drawn largely upon the notes and memoranda which they drafted for my

assistance. I wish also to thank several others--one in chief--for the

kindness with which, upon the present occasion, they have given me help

and criticism as these pages were passing through the press.

There is also another source to which I wish here gratefully to confess

my obligations. During the past five years there have appeared in _The

Round Table_ certain articles upon the relations of England with

Germany[1] which have been characterised by {xxi} a remarkable degree

of prescience and sanity. At a certain point, however, there is a

difference between the views expressed in _The Round Table_ and those

expressed in the following pages--a difference of stress and emphasis

perhaps, rather than of fundamental opinion, but still a difference of

some importance. I have dealt with this in the concluding chapter.

I should like to make one other acknowledgment of a different kind. I

have known the editor of _The National Review_ from a date long before

he assumed his onerous office--from days when we were freshmen together

by the banks of the Cam. During a period of upwards of thirty years, I

cannot remember that I have ever had the good fortune to see absolutely

eye to eye with Mr. Maxse upon any public question. Even now I do not

see eye to eye with him. In all probability I never shall. At times

his views have been in sharp opposition to my own. But for these very

reasons--if he will not resent it as an impertinence--I should like to

say here how greatly I respect him for three qualities, which have been

none too common among public men in recent times--first, for the

clearness with which he grasps and states his beliefs; secondly, for

the courageous constancy with which he holds to them through good and

evil report; thirdly, for the undeviating integrity of his public

career. Next to Lord Roberts, he did more perhaps than any

other--though unavailingly--to arouse public opinion to the dangers

{xxii} which menaced it from German aggression, to call attention to

the national unpreparedness, and to denounce the blindness and

indolence which treated warnings with derision.

Lord Roberts.

Lord Roberts's responsibility for the contents of this volume, as for

its publication at the present time, is nil. And yet it would never

have been undertaken in the first instance except at his wish, nor

re-undertaken in September last without his encouragement. There are

probably a good many besides myself who owe it to his inspiration, that

they first made a serious attempt to study policy and defence as two

aspects of a single problem. I also owe to him many things besides

this.

The circumstances of Lord Roberts's death were befitting his character

and career. The first great battle of Ypres was ended. The British

line had held its own against tremendous odds of men and guns. He had

no doubt of the ultimate result of the war, and during his visit to

France and Flanders inspired all who saw him by the quiet confidence of

his words and manner. After the funeral service at Headquarters a

friend of his and mine wrote to me describing the scene. The religious

ceremony had taken place in the entrance hall of the Maine at St. Omer.

It was a day of storms; but as the coffin was borne out "the sun

{xxiii} appeared, and made a magnificent rainbow on a great black block

of cloud across the square; and an airman flew across from the rainbow

into the sunlight."

If I were asked to name Lord Roberts's highest intellectual quality I

should say unhesitatingly that it was his instinct. And if I were

asked to name his highest moral quality I should say, also

unhesitatingly, that it was the unshakeable confidence with which he

trusted his instinct. But the firmness of his trust was not due in the

least to self-conceit, or arrogance, or obstinacy. He obeyed his

instinct as he obeyed his conscience--humbly and devoutly. The

dictates of both proceeded from the same source. It was not his own

cleverness which led him to his conclusions, but the hand of Providence

which drew aside a veil, and enabled him to see the truth. What gave

him his great strength in counsel, as in the field, was the simple

modesty of his confidence.

He was a poor arguer; I think argument was painful to him; also that he

regarded it as a sad waste of the short span of human life. It was not

difficult to out-argue him. Plausible and perspicacious persons often

left him, after an interview, under the firm impression that they had

convinced him. But as a rule, he returned on the morrow to his old

opinion, unless his would-be converters had brought to his notice new

facts as well as new arguments.

{xxiv}

He arrived at an opinion neither hastily nor slowly, but at a moderate

pace. He had the gift of stating his conclusion with admirable

lucidity; and if he thought it desirable, he gave the reasons for his

view of the matter with an equal clearness. But his reasons, like his

conclusion, were in the nature of statements; they were not stages in

an argument. There are as many unanswerable reasons to be given for as

against most human decisions. Ingenuity and eloquence are a curse at

councils of war, and state, and business. Indeed, wherever action of

any kind has to be determined upon they are a curse. It was Lord

Roberts's special gift that, out of the medley of unanswerable reasons,

he had an instinct for selecting those which really mattered, and

keeping his mind close shut against the rest.

It is superfluous to speak of his courtesy of manner and kindness of

heart, or of his unflagging devotion--up till the very day of his

death--to what he regarded as his duty. There is a passage in

Urquhart's translation of _Rabelais_ which always recalls him to my

mind:--_He was the best little great good man that ever girded a sword

on his side; he took all things in good part, and interpreted every

action in the best sense_. In a leading German newspaper there

appeared, a few days after his death, the following reference to that

event:--"It was not given to Lord Roberts to see the realisation of his

dreams of National Service; but the blows struck on the Aisne were

hammer-strokes which might after a long {xxv} time and bitter need

produce it. Lord Roberts was an honourable and, through his renown, a

dangerous enemy ... personally an extraordinarily brave enemy. Before

such a man we lower our swords, to raise them again for new blows dealt

with the joy of conflict."

Nor was this the only allusion of the kind which figured in German

newspapers 'to the journey of an old warrior to Walhalla,' with his

final mission yet unaccomplished, but destined to be sooner or later

accomplished, if his country was to survive. In none of these

references, so far as I have been able to discover, was there the least

trace of malice against the man who had warned his fellow-countrymen,

more clearly than any other, against the premeditated aggression of

Germany. This seems very strange when we recollect how, for nearly two

years previously, a large section of the British nation had been

engaged in denouncing Lord Roberts for the outrageous provocations

which he was alleged to have offered to Germany--in apologising to

Germany for his utterances--in suggesting the propriety of depriving

him of his pension in the interests of Anglo-German amity. What this

section has itself earned in the matter of German gratitude we know

from many hymns and other effusions of hate.

{xxvi}

Hugh Dawnay and John Gough.

I have dedicated this volume to the memory of John Gough and Hugh

Dawnay, not solely on grounds of friendship, but also because from both

I received, at different times, much help, advice, and criticism--from

the latter when the original Memorandum was in course of being

drafted--from both when it was being reconsidered with a view to

publication. Whether either of them would agree with the statement in

its present form is more than I can venture to say, and I have no

intention of claiming their authority for conclusions which were never

seen by them in final shape.

In the first instance (November 1912-March 1913) Dawnay[2] and I worked

together. His original notes and memoranda are to a large extent

incorporated in Parts III. and IV.--so closely, however, that I cannot

now disentangle his from my own. The calculations as to numbers and

probable distribution of the opposing forces, were almost entirely his.

I have merely endeavoured here--not so successfully as I could wish--to

bring them up to the date of the outbreak of war.

Dawnay took out his squadron of the 2nd Life Guards to France early in

August. Already, however, he had been appointed to the Headquarters

General Staff, on which he served with distinction, until early in

October, when he succeeded to the command {xxvii} of his regiment. He

fell at Zwarteleen near Ypres on the 6th of November 1914--one of the

most anxious days during the four weeks' battle.

His friends have mourned his death, but none of them have grudged it;

for he died, not merely as a brave man should--in the performance of

his duty--but after having achieved, with consummate skill and daring,

his part in an action of great importance. On the afternoon of this

day General Kavanagh's Brigade of Household Cavalry[3]--summoned in

haste--dismounted, and threw back a German attack which had partially

succeeded in piercing the allied line at the point of junction between

the French and English forces. This successful counter-attack saved

the right flank of Lord Cavan's Guards' Brigade from a position of

extreme danger, which must otherwise, almost certainly, have resulted

in a perilous retreat. The whole of this Homeric story is well worth

telling, and some day it may be told; but this is not the place.

Dawnay was fortunate inasmuch as he lost his life, not as so many brave

men have done in this war--and in all others--by a random bullet, or as

the result of somebody's blunder, or in an attempt which failed. On

the contrary he played a distinguished, and possibly a determining

part, in an action which succeeded, and the results of which were

fruitful.

He was not merely a brave and skilful soldier {xxviii} when it came to

push of pike, but a devoted student of his profession in times of

peace. The mixture of eagerness and patience with which he went about

his work reminded one, not a little, of that same combination of

qualities as it is met with sometimes among men of science.

Hunting accidents, the privations of Ladysmith followed by enteric,

divers fevers contracted in hot climates, and the severity of a

campaign in Somaliland, had severely tried his constitution--which

although vigorous and athletic was never robust--and had increased a

tendency to headaches and neuralgia to which he had been subject ever

since boyhood. Yet he treated pain always as a despicable enemy, and

went about his daily business as indefatigably when he was in

suffering, as when he was entirely free from it, which in later years

was but rarely.

Dawnay had a very quick brain, and held his views most positively. It

was sometimes said of him that he did not suffer fools gladly, and this

was true up to a point. He was singularly intolerant of presumptuous

fools, who laid down the law about matters of which they were wholly

ignorant, or who--having acquired a smattering of second-hand

knowledge--proceeded to put their ingenious and sophistical theories

into practice. But for people of much slower wits than himself--if

they were trying honestly to arrive at the truth--he was usually full

of sympathy. His tact and patience upon great occasions were two of

his noblest qualities.

{xxix}

In some ways he used to remind me, not a little, of Colonel Henry

Esmond of Castlewood, Virginia. In both there was the same hard core

of resistance against anything, which appeared to challenge certain

adamantine principles concerning conduct befitting a gentleman. On

such matters he was exceedingly stiff and unyielding. And he resembled

the friend of Lord Bolingbroke, and General Webb, and Dick Steele also

in this, that he was addicted to the figure of irony when crossed in

discussion. One imagines, however, that Colonel Esmond must have kept

his countenance better, and remained imperturbably grave until his

shafts had all gone home. In Dawnay's case the sight of his opponent's

lengthening face was, as a rule, too much for his sense of humour, and

the attack was apt to lose some of its force--certainly all its

fierceness--in a smile which reminded one of Carlyle's

description--'sunlight on the sea.'

The following extract from a letter written by one of his friends who

had attended the War Service at St. Paul's gives a true picture: "A

sudden vision arose in my imagination of Hugh Dawnay striding down the

choir, in full armour, like St. Michael--with his head thrown back, and

that extraordinary expression of resolution which he always seemed to

me to possess more than any one I have ever seen. His wide-apart eyes

had more of the spirit of truth in them than almost any--also an

intolerance of falsehood--or rather perhaps a disbelief in its

existence...." This is true. He was one of {xxx} that race of men

whose recumbent figures are seen in our old churches and cathedrals,

with hands clasping crusaders' swords against their breasts, their

hounds couching at their feet.

In physique and temperament Hugh Dawnay and John Gough[4] were in most

respects as unlike a pair of friends as ever walked this earth; but we

might have searched far before we could have found two minds which, on

most matters connected with their profession, were in more perfect

accord. Dawnay, younger by four years, had served under Gough in

trying times, and regarded him (an opinion which is very widely shared

by seniors as well as juniors) as one of the finest soldiers of his

age. Though Dawnay was slender and of great height, while Gough was

rather below the middle stature, broad and firmly knit, there was one

striking point of physical resemblance between them, in the way their

heads were set upon their shoulders. There was something in the

carriage of both which seemed to take it for granted that they would be

followed wherever they might chose to lead. In Lord Roberts, and also

in a strikingly different character--Mr. Chamberlain--there was the

same poise, the same stable equilibrium, without a trace in it of

self-consciousness or constraint. It may be that the {xxxi} habit of

command induces this bearing in a man; or it may be that there is

something in the nature of the man who bears himself thus which forces

him to become a leader.

Gough took no part in the preparation of the original Memorandum; but

in March 1913 he discussed it with me[5] and made various criticisms

and suggestions, most of which have been incorporated here. His chief

concern with regard to all proposals for a National Army was, that the

period of training should be sufficient to allow time for turning the

average man into a soldier who had full confidence in himself. "When

war breaks out"--I can hear his words--"it's not recruits we want: it's

soldiers we want: that is, if our object is to win the war as speedily

as possible, and to lose as few lives as possible." Under normal peace

conditions he put this period at a minimum of two years for infantry;

but of course he would have admitted--and did, in fact, admit when I

saw him last December--that under the stress and excitement of war the

term might be considerably shortened.

His chief concern in 1913 was with regard to shortage of officers. He

criticised with great severity the various recent attempts at reforming

our military {xxxii} system, not only on the ground that we had chosen

to rely upon training our national forces after war had actually broken

out (in his view a most disastrous decision); but also because we had

not taken care to provide ourselves against the very emergency which

was contemplated, by having a reserve of officers competent to

undertake the training of the new army in case of need.

I went to see him at Aldershot on the Friday before war was declared,

and found, as I expected, that he regarded it as inevitable. He had

undergone a very severe operation in the early summer, and was still

quite unfit to stand the strain of hard exercise. It had been arranged

that we were to go together, a few days later, to Sweden, for six

weeks' shooting and fishing in the mountains. He was very anxious to

return to England for the September manoeuvres. His surgeon,[6]

however, forbade this, on the ground that even by that time he would

not be fit to sit for a whole day in the saddle.

He was in two moods on this occasion. He was as light-hearted as a boy

who is unexpectedly released from school; the reason being that the

Army Medical Officer had that morning passed him as physically fit to

go abroad with Sir Douglas Haig, to whom he had acted as Senior Staff

Officer since the previous autumn.

{xxxiii}

His other mood was very different. The war which he had foreseen and

dreaded, the war which in his view might have been avoided upon one

condition, and one only--if England had been prepared--had come at

last. I don't think I have ever known any one--certainly never any

anti-militarist--whose hatred and horror of war gave the same

impression of intensity and reality as his. Not metaphorically, but as

a bare fact, his feelings with regard to it were too deep for words; he

would suddenly break off speaking about things which had occurred in

his own experience; in particular, about loss of friends and comrades.

He was an Irishman, and had not the impassive coldness of some of the

great soldiers. But most of all he hated war when it was not

inevitable--when with foresight and courage it might have been

averted--as in his opinion this war might have been.

In radium there is said to be a virtue which enables it to affect

adjacent objects with its own properties, and to turn them, for a time,

and for certain purposes, into things of the same nature as itself.

Certain rare human characters possess a similar virtue; but although I

have met with several of these in my life, there is none of them all

who seemed to me to possess this quality in quite so high a degree as

Gough. He was an alchemist who made fine soldiers out of all sorts and

conditions of men, and whose spirit turned despondency out of doors.

The clearness of his instinct and the power of his {xxxiv} mind were

not more remarkable than his swiftness of decision and indomitable

will. There are scores--probably hundreds--of young officers who

fought by his side, or under him, at Ypres and elsewhere, who years

hence, when they are themselves distinguished--perhaps great and

famous--and come, in the evening of their days, to reckon up and

consider the influences which have shaped their careers, will place his

influence first. And there are boys looking forward to the day when

they shall be old enough to serve in the King's Army, chiefly from the

love and honour in which they held this hero, with his winning smile

and superb self-confidence.

He has left behind him a tradition, if ever man did. You will find it

everywhere, among young and old--among all with whom he ever came into

touch. Nor is the tradition which he has left merely among soldiers

and with regard to the art of war, but also in other spheres of private

conduct and public life. He had strong prejudices as well as

affections, which made him sometimes judge men unfairly, also on the

other hand too favourably; but he banished all meanness from his

neighbourhood, all thoughts of self-interest and personal advancement.

Duty, discipline, self-discipline, and the joy of life--these were the

rules he walked by; and if you found yourself in his company you had

perforce to walk with him, keeping up with his stride as best you could.

We value our friends for different qualities, and would have their

tradition fulfil itself in different {xxxv} ways. Those of us who

counted these two--'Johnnie' Gough and Hugh Dawnay--among our friends

will wish that our sons may be like them, and follow in their footsteps.

F.S.O.

CHECKENDON COURT, OXFORDSHIRE, 1st June 1915.

[1] _The Round Table_ (quarterly Review). Macmillan & Co., Ltd. Of

the articles referred to the chief are: 'Anglo-German Rivalry'

(November 1910); 'Britain, France, and Germany' (December 1911); 'The

Balkan War and the Balance of Power' (June 1913); 'Germany and the

Prussian Spirit' (September 1914); 'The Schism of Europe' (March 1915).

It is to be hoped that these and some others may be republished before

long in more permanent form.

[2] Major the Hon. Hugh Dawnay, D.S.O., _b._ 1875; educated Eton and

Sandhurst; Rifle Brigade, 1895; Nile Campaign and Omdurman, 1898; South

Africa, 1899-1900; Somaliland, 1908-1910; 2nd Life Guards, 1912;

France, August-November 1914.

[3] This Brigade was known during the battle of Ypres as 'the Fire

Brigade,' for the reason that it was constantly being called up on a

sudden to extinguish unforeseen conflagrations.

[4] Brigadier-General John Edmund Gough, V.C., C.M.G., C.B., A.D.C. to

the King; _b._ 1871; educated Eton and Sandhurst; Rifle Brigade, 1892;

British Central Africa, 1896-1897; Nile Campaign and Omdurman, 1898;

South Africa, 1899-1902; Somaliland, 1902-1903 and 1908-1909; France,

August 1914-February 1915.

[5] At St. Jean de Luz, when he was endeavouring, though not very

successfully, to shake off the after-effects of his last Somaliland

campaign. He was then engaged in correcting the proofs of the volume

of his Staff College lectures which was subsequently published under

the title _Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville_ (Rees)--a most vivid

and convincing narrative. In the intervals of work and golf he spent

much of his time in visiting Wellington's adjacent battlefields and

studying his passage of the Bidassoa and forcing of the Pyrenees.

[6] Gough's many friends will ever feel a double debt of gratitude to

that distinguished surgeon, Sir Berkeley Moynihan, who by this

operation restored him, after several years of ill-health and

suffering, almost to complete health; and who once again--when by a

strange coincidence of war he found his former patient lying in the

hospital at Estaires the day after he was brought in wounded--came to

his aid, and all but achieved the miracle of saving his life.

ORDEAL BY BATTLE

PART I

THE CAUSES OF WAR

PART II

THE SPIRIT OF GERMAN POLICY

PART III

THE SPIRIT OF BRITISH POLICY

PART IV

DEMOCRACY AND NATIONAL SERVICE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I

THE CAUSES OF WAR

CHAPTER I

PEACE AND WAR

PAGE

Peace is the greatest of British interests 3

Peaceful intentions will not ensure peace 4

Futility of Pacifism 6

Causes of wars in general 8

Causes of the American Civil War 10

Influence of ideas of duty and self-sacrifice 11

CHAPTER II

THE OUTBREAK OF WAR

July-August 1914 13

Reality or illusion 15

The Serajevo murders 16

Austria and Servia 17

English efforts to preserve peace 18

Mobilisation in Germany and Russia 19

Questions of neutrality 19

German Army enters Luxemburg, Belgium, and France 20

General conflagration 20

CHAPTER III

WHO WANTED WAR?

Why did war occur? 22

Servia did not want war 22

Neither did Russia or France 23

Nor Belgium or England 25

Austria wanted war with Servia alone 26

Germany encouraged Austria to bring on war 29

Germany desired war believing that England would remain neutral 29

Austrian eleventh-hour efforts for peace frustrated by Germany 30

Sir Edward Grey's miscalculation 31

M. Sazonof thought war could have been avoided by plain speaking 32

Sir Edward Grey's reasons against plain speaking 33

Which was right? 34

CHAPTER IV

THE PENALTY OF NEGLIGENCE

Was war inevitable? 36

Not if England had been prepared morally and materially 37

Previous apprehensions of war 38

Peculiar characteristics of German animosity 39

British public opinion refused to treat it seriously 40

CHAPTER V

PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY

Who actually caused the conflagration? 42

Influence of the Professors, Press, and People of Germany 43

Influence of the Court, Army, and Bureaucracy 44

Various political characters 46

The Kaiser 48

There was no master-spirit 51

CHAPTER VI

GERMAN MISCALCULATIONS

Hero-worship and sham super-men 53

The Blunders of Bureaucracy 55

As to the time-table of the war 55

As to the quality of the French Army 55

As to the opinion of the world 56

As to the treatment of Belgium 57

As to British neutrality 58

As to the prevalence of Pacifism in England 59

As to Civil War in Ireland 62

As to rebellion in South Africa 64

As to Indian sedition 65

As to the spirit of the self-governing Dominions 67

Lack of instinct and its consequences 67

CHAPTER VII

INTERNATIONAL ILL-WILL

Great events do not proceed from small causes 69

German hatred of England 70

This is the German people's war 71

Their illusion that England brought it about 73

Difficulties in the way of international understandings 73

British and German diplomacy compared 74

German distrust and British indifference 78

British policy as it appears to German eyes 79

Vacillation mistaken for duplicity 80

German policy as it appears to British eyes 81

PART II

THE SPIRIT OF GERMAN POLICY

CHAPTER I

THE BISMARCKIAN EPOCH

National dreams 87

1789 and after 87

The first German dream--Union 88

How it was realised 89

What the world thought of it 90

Material development in Germany 91

The peace policy of Bismarck 92

CHAPTER II

AFTER BISMARCK

Nightmares and illusions 94

Grievances against England, France, and Russia 96

The second German dream--Mastery of the World 97

Absorption of Belgium, Holland, and Denmark 98

The Austro-Hungarian inheritance 98

The Balkan peninsula 99

Turkey in Asia 100

German diplomacy at Constantinople 101

The Baghdad Railway 102

The hoped-for fruits of 'inevitable' wars 103

The possession of Africa 103

The Chinese Empire 104

CHAPTER III

THE GERMAN PROJECT OF EMPIRE

Qualities of the German vision 106

Symmetry and vastness are dangerous ideals 107

Frederick the Great and Bismarck 108

German predisposition to follow dreamers 108

Grotesque proportions of the Second German dream 109

The two Americas 110

Pacifism and Militarism meet at infinity 111

CHAPTER IV

THE NEW MORALISTS

Germany goes in search of an ethical basis 113

Special grievances against France and England 114

German thinkers recast Christian morals 115

Heinrich von Treitschke 116

_The principle of the state is power_ 117

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche 118

His contempt for British and Prussian ideals 119

General von Bernhardi 122

New morality never accepted by the German people 123

Thrown over even by 'the brethren' when war occurred 124

Causes of this apostasy 126

CHAPTER V

THE STATECRAFT OF A PRIESTHOOD

German education a drill system 127

Intellectuals are ranged on the government side 129

Eighteenth-century France and modern Germany 129

Contrast between their bureaucracies 130

Between the attitude of their intellectuals 131

Between their fashions of fancy dress 131

Dangers to civilisation from within and without 132

Political thinkers are usually destructive 133

Unfitness of priesthoods for practical affairs 135

Contrast between priests and lawyers 137

Natural affinity between soldiers and priests 139

Unforeseen consequences of German thoroughness 140

May lead ultimately to ostracism of Germany 140

Types of German agents 141

Treacherous activities in time of peace 142

The German political creed 144

The true aim of this war 146

CHAPTER VI

THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE

Intelligence and enterprise of the Germans 149

They are nevertheless devoted to their own institutions 150

German system is not reactionary but the reverse 151

Experts are honoured and trusted 151

German esteem for men of learning 152

And for the military caste 153

And for their Kaiser 155

German contempt for party government 156

And for the character of British official news 157

And for the failure of the British Government to trust

the people 160

And for its fear of asking the people to make sacrifices 161

And for the voluntary system 162

Their pride in the successes of German arms 163

And in the number and spirit of their new levies 163

Which they contrast with British recruiting 164

The methods of which they despise 165

What is meant by 'a popular basis' of government? 166

CHAPTER VII

THE CONFLICTS OF SYSTEMS AND IDEAS

Two issues between England and Germany 167

Democracy cannot endure unless capable of self-defence 168

Democracy good and bad 169

Self-criticism may be carried too far 171

The two dangers of democracy--German _Arms_ and German _Ideas_ 173

Fundamental opposition between the spirit of German policy

and our own 173

German people have not accepted the moral ideas of their

priesthood 174

Recantation among 'the brethren' themselves on outbreak of war 175

The cult of war 176

PART III

THE SPIRIT OF BRITISH POLICY

CHAPTER I

A REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD (JANUARY 1901-JULY 1914)

In this war Democracy is fighting for its existence 181

Against highly organised materialism 183

The opening of the twentieth century 186

Spirit of constitutional change 188

Disappearance of great figures from the scene 189

Change in character of the House of Commons 192

Dearth of leadership 194

Consequent demoralisation of parties 195

And widespread anxiety 196

Pre-eminence of Mr. Asquith 197

His Parliamentary supremacy 198

His maxim--_wait-and-see_ 199

Character of his oratory 199

Increasing prominence of lawyers in politics 200

Their influence on Parliamentary institutions and national

policy 201

Mr. Asquith's limitations 203

CHAPTER II

THREE GOVERNING IDEAS

Situation at the death of Queen Victoria 207

Comfort and security are not synonymous 208

Two problems absorbed public attention 209

Social and Constitutional Reform 209

A third problem, security, was overlooked 210

Social Reform intrinsically the most important 211

The urgent need of peace 212

Earnestness of public opinion 212

How it was baulked by circumstances 213

Limitations of popular judgment 214

Want of leadership 216

Strangulation of sincerity by party system 218

The artificial opposition of three great ideas 221

CHAPTER III

POLICY AND ARMAMENTS

The aim of British policy 223

Organised and unorganised defences 223

Policy depends on armaments, armaments on policy 225

Difficulty of keeping these principles in mind 226

Diplomacy to-day depends more than ever on armaments 228

The sad example of China 229

Policy should conform to national needs 230

Dangers threatening British security (1901-1914) 231

The Committee of Imperial Defence 232

Reasons of its comparative failure 234

Parliament and the people were left uneducated 235

Naval preparations were adequate 236

Military preparations were absurdly inadequate 237

Our Foreign policy rested on an entirely false assumption as

regards the adequacy of our Army 238

CHAPTER IV

THE BALANCE OF POWER

Security required that we should take account of Europe 241

German aim--the suzerainty of Western Europe 243

Maintenance of the _Balance of Power_ 244

This is the unalterable condition of British security 245

This need produced the Triple Entente 247

Splendid isolation no longer compatible with security 249

Meaning of a defensive war 249

Defence of north-eastern frontier of France essential to

British security 250

CHAPTER V

THE MILITARY SITUATION (AUGUST 1911)

The British 'Expeditionary Force' 252

Numbers as a test of adequacy 253

Relations of Italy with Germany and Austria in event of war 254

Troops for defence of coasts and neutral frontiers 256

Germany must hold Russia in check with superior numbers 256

Germany would then endeavour to crush France 257

Having a superiority of 500,000 men available for this purpose 257

Why neutrality of Holland was a German interest 258

Why neutrality of Belgium was an obstacle to Germany 259

Inadequacy of our own Army to turn the scales 260

Our armaments did not correspond with our policy 261

Ministerial confidence in the 'voluntary system' 261

Three periods of war--the _onset_, the _grip_, and the _drag_ 263

In 1870 the _onset_ decided the issue 264

By 1914 the power of swift attack had increased 265

Forecasts confirmed by experience (Aug.-Sept. 1914) 266

Immense value of British sea-power 266

No naval success, however, can win a European war 267

Naval supremacy not the only essential to British security 268

CHAPTER VI

THE MILITARY SITUATION (AUGUST 1914)

Changes between August 1911 and August 1914 269

Sensational German increases in 1913 took full effect within

a year 270

Inability of France to counter this effort unaided 270

French increase could not take effect till 1916 271

Russian and Austrian increases 272

No attempt to increase British Army though it is below strength 273

Balkan wars (1912-1913) 273

Their effect on _Balance of Power_ 274

Reasons why they did not lead to general conflagration 275

Germany's two dates: June 1914-June 1916 275

CHAPTER VII

A TRAGEDY OF ERRORS

Why should we suspect Germany of evil intentions? 277

The German Fleet was a challenge to British security 278

Candour of German publicists 278

British Government finds comfort in official assurances

of Berlin 279

Disregarded warnings 279

_First Warning_ 279

(1905-1906) Morocco incident 279

After which British naval programme was reduced 280

_Second Warning_ 281

(1908-1909) Secret acceleration and increase of German

naval programme 281

Imperial Defence Conference 281

_Third Warning_ 282

(1910) German sincerity under suspicion 282

The Constitutional Conference 283

Secret de Polichinelle 283

Failure of British Government to trust the people 284

_Fourth Warning_ 285

(1911) The Agadir incident 285

Mr. Lloyd George's speech 285

Consequences of various kinds 286

_Fifth Warning_ 287

(1912) Lord Haldane's rebuff 287

Menacing nature of German proposals 288

Dangers of amateur diplomacy 289

German love of irregular missions 290

_Sixth Warning_ 294

(1913) German Army Bill and War Loan 294

British Government ignore the danger 295

Neglect military preparations 297

Shrink from speaking plainly to the people 298

Difficulties of Sir Edward Grey 298

Enemies in his own household 299

Radical attacks on Foreign Secretary and First Lord of

Admiralty fomented by Germany 299

Attitude of a leaderless Cabinet 300

Parallelogram of fears determines drift of policy 301

Evil effects of failure to educate public opinion 302

Danger of breaking the Liberal party 303

Occasional efficacy of self-sacrifice 303

War not inevitable had England been prepared 304

PART IV

DEMOCRACY AND NATIONAL SERVICE

CHAPTER I

THE BRITISH ARMY AND THE PEACE OF EUROPE

Public opinion puzzled by military problems 309

The nation's growing anxiety and distrust (1909-1914) 310

Army affairs a shuttlecock in the political game 312

'The blood taxes' 313

The nation realised it had not been treated with candour 313

Powerful British Army the best guarantee for European peace 314

Alone among European nations Britain had not an army

commensurate to her population, policy, and resources 316

CHAPTER II

THE COMPOSITION OF THE BRITISH ARMY

The _Regular Army_ 317

Three classes of reserves 318

The _Army Reserve_ 318

The _Special Reserve_ 319

The _Territorial Army_ 320

The numbers of trained soldiers immediately available for war 321

These were inadequate to redress the balance against the

Triple Entente 322

In the _onset_ period untrained and half-trained troops

were of no use 322

Shortage of officers capable of training raw troops 323

Lord Haldane's failure to carry out his own principles 324

Moral effect of our support of France at Agadir crisis 326

Adverse changes between 1911 and 1914 326

Size of British striking force necessary as complete

were of against a coolly calculated war 327

Reserves required behind this striking force 328

South African War no precedent for a European war 330

CHAPTER III

LORD ROBERTS'S WARNINGS

The Manchester speech (October 22, 1912) 332

Liberal denunciation and Unionist coolness 332

Attack concentrated on three passages 333

Two of these have been proved true by events 334

The other was misinterpreted by its critics 335

Liberal criticism 336

Unionist criticism 341

Ministerial rebukes 343

No regret has ever been expressed subsequently for any of

these attacks 347

CHAPTER IV

LORD KITCHENER'S TASK

All Lord Roberts's warnings were proved true 350

Many people nevertheless still believed that the voluntary

system was a success 351

Lord Kitchener as Secretary of State for War 353

His previous record of success 354

His hold on public confidence 354

His grasp of the simple essentials 355

His determination to support France and make a New Army 355

His remarkable achievements 356

His want of knowledge of British political and industrial

conditions 356

His colleagues, however, understood these thoroughly 357

CHAPTER V

MATERIAL OF WAR

Industrial congestion at the outbreak of war 358

Need for looking far ahead and organising production of war

material 359

The danger of labour troubles 360

Outcry about shortage of supplies 360

Official denials were disbelieved 361

CHAPTER VI

METHODS OF RECRUITING

The first need was men 364

A call for volunteers the only way of meeting it 364

The second need was a system to provide men as required

over the period of the war 365

No system was devised 365

The Government shrank from exercising its authority 366

Trusted to indirect pressure 366

And sensational appeals 367

They secured a new army of the highest quality 368

But they demoralised public opinion by their methods 369

Public opinion at the outbreak of war was admirable 372

It was ready to obey orders 373

No orders came 374

The triumph of the voluntary system 376

From the point of view of a Belgian or a Frenchman the

triumph is not so clear 377

The voluntary system is inadequate to our present situation 379

Folly of waiting for disaster to demonstrate the necessity

of National Service 380

CHAPTER VII

PERVERSITIES OF THE ANTI-MILITARIST SPIRIT

British methods of recruiting in normal times 382

_The Conscription of Hunger_ 382

The cant of the voluntary principle 384

The 'economic' fallacy 385

The fallacy of underrating the moral of conscript armies 387

The army which we call 'voluntary' our enemies call 'mercenary' 389

'Mercenary' describes not the British Army but the British

People 389

The true description of the British Army is 'Professional' 390

The theory of the British Army 391

That officers should pay for the privilege of serving 391

That the rank and file should contract for a term of years 392

Under pressure of want 392

At pay which is below the market rate 392

This contract is drastically enforced 393

With the full approval of anti-militarist opinion 393

Inconsistencies of the anti-militarists 394

Their crowning inconsistency 395

Other industries put pressure on society 396

Why should not a professional army? 396

The example of Rome 397

A professional army when it first interferes in politics

usually does so as a liberator 397

Then military despotism follows speedily 399

A fool's paradise 399

CHAPTER VIII

SOME HISTORICAL REFLECTIONS

Bugbears 401

Conflict of 'opinion' with 'the facts' 402

An army is no defence unless it is available for service

abroad 402

The Industrial Epoch (1832-1886) 403

Its grudging attitude towards the Army 403

Honour paid by conscript nations to their armies 406

Democracy cannot subsist without personal service 406

During the Industrial Epoch exemption from Personal Service

was regarded as the essence of Freedom 408

War was regarded as an anachronism 409

Since 1890 there has been a slow but steady reaction from

these ideas 410

Volunteer movement and Territorial Army compared 411

Effect of the Soudan campaign and South African War 411

Effect of more recent events 412

Have we passed out of a normal condition into an abnormal

one, or the reverse? 412

Germany's great grievance against Britain: we thought to

hold our Empire without sacrifices 413

The Freiherr von Hexenküchen's views--

(1) On our present case of conscience 416

(2) On our voluntary system 416

The American Civil War 417

Lincoln insisted on conscription (1863) 418

His difficulties 418

Results of his firmness 419

Difference in our own case 419

Our need for conscription is much greater 419

It is also far easier for our Government to enforce it 420

CHAPTER IX

THE CRUCIBLE OF WAR

The objects of this book 421

Criticism of naval and military strategy is no part of its

purpose 422

Nor the ultimate political settlement of Europe 424

Nor an inquisition into 'German atrocities' 424

But the basis of Germany's policy must be understood 425

And what we are fighting for and against 425

The causes of German strength 427

The causes of British weakness 427

Illusions as to the progress of the war 428

The real cause of our going to war 430

Democracy is not by its nature invincible 431

Leadership is our chief need 433

The folly of telling half-truths to the People 435

PART I

THE CAUSES OF WAR

Then _Apollyon_ strodled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and

said, I am void of fear in this matter, prepare thyself to die; for I

swear by my infernal Den, that thou shalt go no further; here will I

spill thy soul.

And with that he threw a flaming Dart at his breast, but _Christian_

had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the

danger of that.

Then did _Christian_ draw, for he saw 'twas time to bestir him: and

_Apollyon_ as fast made at him, throwing Darts as thick as Hail; by the

which, notwithstanding all that _Christian_ could do to avoid it,

_Apollyon_ wounded him in his _head_, his _hand_, and _foot_: this made

_Christian_ give a little back; _Apollyon_ therefore followed his work

amain, and _Christian_ again took courage, and resisted as manfully as

he could. This sore Combat lasted for above half a day, even till

_Christian_ was almost quite spent; for you must know that _Christian_,

by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.

Then _Apollyon_ espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to

_Christian_, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with

that _Christian's_ sword flew out of his hand. Then said _Apollyon, I

am sure of thee now_: and with that he had almost pressed him to death,

so that _Christian_ began to despair of life. But as God would have

it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a

full end of this good man, _Christian_ nimbly reached out his hand for

his Sword, and caught it, saying, _Rejoice not against me, O mine

enemy! when I fall I shall arise_; and with that gave him a deadly

thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received his mortal

wound: _Christian_ perceiving that, made at him again, saying, _Nay, in

all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved

us_. And with that _Apollyon_ spread forth his dragon's wings, and

sped him away, that _Christian_ for a season saw him no more.

In this Combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I

did, what yelling and hideous roaring, _Apollyon_ made all the time of

the fight; he spake like a Dragon....

_The Pilgrim's Progress._

{3}

CHAPTER I

PEACE AND WAR

It is a considerable number of years since the most distinguished Tory

statesman of his time impressed upon his fellow-countrymen as a maxim

of policy, that _Peace is the greatest of British interests_. There

was an unexpectedness about Lord Salisbury's words, coming as they did

from the leader of a party which had hitherto lain under suspicion of

jingoism, which gave the phrase almost the colour of an epigram. The

truth of the saying, however, gradually became manifest to all men; and

thereupon a new danger arose out of this very fact.

As a nation we are in some ways a great deal too modest; or it may be,

looking at the matter from a critical standpoint, too self-centred. We

have always been inclined to assume in our calculations that we

ourselves are the only possible disturbers of the peace, and that if we

do not seek war, or provoke it, no other Power will dream of forcing

war upon us. This unfortunately has rarely been the case; and those

persons who, in recent times, have refused most scornfully to consider

the lessons of past history, have now at last learned from a sterner

schoolmaster the falseness of their favourite doctrine.

The United Kingdom needed and desired peace, so {4} that it might

proceed undistracted, and with firm purpose, to set its house in order.

The Dominions needed peace, so that they might have time to people

their fertile but empty lands, to strike deep roots and become secure.

To the Indian Empire and the Dependencies peace was essential, if a

system of government, which aimed, not unsuccessfully, at giving

justice and fostering well-being, was to maintain its power and

prestige unshaken. The whole British race had nothing material to gain

by war, but much to lose, much at any rate which would be put in

jeopardy by war. In spite of all these weighty considerations which no

man of sense and knowledge will venture to dispute, we should have been

wiser had we taken into account the fact, that they did not apply to

other nations, that in the main they affected ourselves alone, and that

our case was no less singular than, in one sense at all events, it was

fortunate.

We did not covet territory or new subjects. Still less were we likely

to engage in campaigns out of a thirst for glory. In the latter

particular at least we were on a par with the rest of the world. The

cloud of anxiety which for ten or more years has brooded over the great

conscript nations, growing steadily darker, contained many dangers, but

among these we cannot reckon such antiquated motives as trivial

bravado, light-hearted knight-errantry, or the vain pursuit of military

renown.

What is called in history books 'an insult' seemed also to have lost

much of its ancient power for plunging nations into war. The

Chancelleries of Europe had grown cautious, and were on the watch

against being misled by the emotions of the moment. A sensational but

unintended injury was not allowed to drive us {5} into war with Russia

in 1904, and this precedent seemed of good augury. Moreover, when

every statesman in Europe was fully alive to the electric condition of

the atmosphere, a deliberate insult was not very likely to be offered

from mere ill-manners or in a fit of temper, but only if there were

some serious purpose behind it, in which case it would fall under a

different category.

Fear was a great danger, and everybody knew it to be so--fear lest this

nation, or that, might be secretly engaged in strengthening its

position in order to crush one of its neighbours at some future date,

unless that neighbour took time by the forelock and struck out

forthwith. Among the causes which might bring about a surprise

outbreak of war this was the most serious and probable. It was

difficult to insure against it. But though perilous in the extreme

while it lasts, panic is of the nature of an epidemic: it rages for a

while and passes away. It had been raging now with great severity ever

since 1909,[1] and by midsummer 1914 optimists were inclined to seek

consolation in the thought that the crisis must surely be over.

[Sidenote: DANGERS TO PEACE]

More dangerous to peace in the long run even than fear, were certain

aims and aspirations, which from one standpoint were concrete and

practical, but regarded from another were among the cloudiest of

abstractions--'political interests,' need of new markets, hunger for

fresh territory to absorb the outflow of emigrants, and the like; on

the other hand, those hopes and anxieties which haunt the {6}

imaginations of eager men as they look into the future, and dream

dreams and see visions of a grand national fulfilment.

If the British race ever beheld a vision of this sort, it had been

realised already. We should have been wise had we remembered that this

accomplished fact, these staked-out claims of the British Empire,

appeared to fall like a shadow across visions seen by other eyes,

blotting out some of the fairest hopes, and spoiling the noble

proportions of the patriot's dream.

There is a region where words stumble after truth, like children

chasing a rainbow across a meadow to find the pot of fairy gold.

Multitudinous volumes stuffed with the cant of pacifism and militarism

will never explain to us the nature of peace and war. But a few bars

of music may sometimes make clear things which all the moralists, and

divines, and philosophers--even the poets themselves for the most part,

though they come nearer to it at times than the rest--have struggled

vainly to show us in their true proportions. The songs of a nation,

its national anthems--if they be truly national and not merely some

commissioned exercise--are better interpreters than state papers. A

man will learn more of the causes of wars, perhaps even of the rights

and wrongs of them, by listening to the burst and fall of the French

hymn, the ebb and surge of the Russian, in Tschaikovsky's famous

overture, than he ever will from books or speeches, argument or oratory.

[Sidenote: IMPOTENCE OF LOGIC]

Yet there are people who think it not impossible to prove to mankind by

logical processes, that the loss which any great nation must inevitably

sustain through war, will far outweigh any advantages which {7} can

ensue from it, even if the arms of the conqueror were crowned with

victories greater than those of Caesar or Napoleon. They draw us

pictures of the exhaustion which must inevitably follow upon such a

struggle conducted upon the modern scale, of the stupendous loss of

capital, destruction of credit, paralysis of industry, arrest of

progress in things spiritual as well as temporal, the shock to

civilisation, and the crippling for a generation, probably for several

generations, possibly for ever, of the victorious country in its race

with rivals who have wisely stood aside from the fray. These arguments

may conceivably be true, may in no particular be over-coloured, or an

under-valuation, either of the good which has been attained by battle,

or of the evils which have been escaped. But they would be difficult

to establish even before an unbiassed court, and they are infinitely

more difficult to stamp upon popular belief.

It is not sufficient either with statesmen or peoples to set before

them a chain of reasoning which is logically unanswerable. Somehow or

other the new faith which it is desired to implant, must be rendered

independent of logic and unassailable by logic. It must rise into a

higher order of convictions than the intellectual before it can begin

to operate upon human affairs. For it is matched against opinions

which have been held and acted upon so long, that they have become

unquestionable save in purely academic discussions. At those decisive

moments, when action follows upon thought like a flash, conclusions

which depend upon a train of reasoning are of no account: instinct will

always get the better of any syllogism.

{8}

So when nations are hovering on the brink of war, it is impulse,

tradition, or some stuff of the imagination--misused deliberately, as

sometimes happens, by crafty manipulators--which determines action much

more often than the business calculations of shopkeepers and

economists. Some cherished institution seems to be threatened. Some

nationality supposed--very likely erroneously--to be of the same flesh

and blood as ourselves, appears--very likely on faulty information--to

be unjustly oppressed. Two rival systems of civilisation, of morals,

of religion, approach one another like thunder-clouds and come together

in a clash. Where is the good at such times of casting up sums, and

exhibiting profit-and-loss accounts to the public gaze? People will

not listen, for in their view considerations of prosperity and the

reverse are beside the question. Wealth, comfort, even life itself,

are not regarded; nor are the possible sufferings of posterity allowed

to count any more than the tribulations of to-day. In the eyes of the

people the matter is one of duty not of interest. When men fight in

this spirit the most lucid exposition of material drawbacks is worse

than useless; for the national mood, at such moments, is one of

self-sacrifice. The philosopher, or the philanthropist, is more likely

to feed the flames than to put them out when he proves the certainty of

loss and privation, and dwells upon the imminent peril of ruin and

destruction.

The strength of the fighter is the strength of his faith. Each new

Gideon who goes out against the Midianites fancies that the sword of

the Lord is in his hand. He risks all that he holds dear, in order

that he may pull down the foul images of Baal and build up an altar to

Jehovah, in order that his race {9} may not be shorn of its

inheritance, in order that it may hold fast its own laws and

institutions, and not pass under the yoke of the Gentiles. This habit

of mind is unchanging throughout the ages. What moved men to give

their lives at Marathon moved them equally, more than a thousand years

later, to offer the same sacrifice under the walls of Tours. It is

still moving them, after yet another thousand years and more have

passed away, in the plains of Flanders and the Polish Marshes.

[Sidenote: THE MOTIVES OF NATIONS]

When the Persian sought to force the dominion of his ideals upon the

Greek, the states of Hellas made head against him from the love and

honour in which they held their own. When the successors of the

Prophet, zealous for their faith, confident in the protection of the

One God, drove the soldiers of the Cross before them from the passes of

the Pyrenees to the vineyards of Touraine, neither side would have

listened with any patience to a dissertation upon the inconveniences

resulting from a state of war and upon the economic advantages of

peace. It was there one faith against another, one attitude towards

life against another, one system of manners, customs, and laws against

another. When a collision occurs in this region of human affairs there

is seldom room for compromise or adjustment. Things unmerchantable

cannot be purchased with the finest of fine gold.

In these instances, seen by us from far off, the truth of this is

easily recognised. But what some of our recent moralists have

overlooked, is the fact that forces of precisely the same order exist

in the world of to-day, and are at work, not only among the fierce

Balkan peoples, in the resurgent empire of Japan, and in the great

military nations--the French, the {10} Germans, and the Russians--but

also in America and England. The last two pride themselves upon a

higher civilisation, and in return are despised by the prophets of

militarism as worshippers of material gain. The unfavourable and the

flattering estimate agree, however, upon a single point--in assuming

that our own people and those of the United States are unlikely to

yield themselves to unsophisticated impulse. This assumption is wholly

false.

[Sidenote: VIRTUES OF THE WAR SPIRIT]

If we search carefully, we shall find every where underlying the great

struggles recorded in past history, no less than those which have

occurred, and are now occurring, in our own time, an antagonism of one

kind or another between two systems, visions, or ideals, which in some

particular were fundamentally opposed and could not be reconciled.

State papers and the memoranda of diplomatists, when in due course they

come to light, are not a little apt to confuse the real issues, by

setting forth a diary of minor incidents and piquant details, not in

their true proportions, but as they appeared at the moment of their

occurrence to the eyes of harassed and suspicious officials. But even

so, all the emptying of desks and pigeon-holes since the great American

Civil War, has not been able to cover up the essential fact, that in

this case a million lives were sacrificed by one of the most

intelligent, humane, and practical nations upon earth, and for no other

cause than that there was an irreconcilable difference amongst them,

with regard to what St. Paul has called 'the substance of things hoped

for.' On the one side there was an ideal of Union and a determination

to make it prevail: on the other side there was an ideal of

Independence and an equal determination to defend it whatsoever {11}

might be the cost. If war on such grounds be possible within the

confines of a single nation, nurtured in the same traditions, and born

to a large extent of the same stock, how futile is the assurance that

economic and material considerations will suffice to make war

impossible between nations, who have not even the tie of a common

mother-tongue!

A collision may occur, as we know only too well, even although one of

two vessels be at anchor, if it happens to lie athwart the course of

the other. It was therefore no security against war that British

policy did not aim at any aggrandisement or seek for any territorial

expansion. The essential questions were--had we possessions which

appeared to obstruct the national aspirations and ideals of others; and

did these others believe that alone, or in alliance, they had the power

to redress the balance?

The real difficulty which besets the philanthropist in his endeavour to

exorcise the spirit of war is caused, not by the vices of this spirit,

but by its virtues. In so far as it springs from vainglory or

cupidity, it is comparatively easy to deal with. In so far as it is

base, there is room for a bargain. It can be compounded with and

bought off, as we have seen before now, with some kind of material

currency. It will not stand out for very long against promises of

prosperity and threats of dearth. But where, as at most crises, this

spirit is not base, where its impulse is not less noble, but more noble

than those which influence men day by day in the conduct of their

worldly affairs, where the contrast which presents itself to their

imagination is between duty on the one hand and gain on the other,

between self-sacrifice and self-interest, between their country's need

and {12} their own ease, it is not possible to quench the fires by

appeals proceeding from a lower plane. The philanthropist, if he is to

succeed, must take still higher ground, and higher ground than this it

is not a very simple matter to discover.

[1] The increase and acceleration of German shipbuilding was discovered

by the British Government in the autumn of 1908, and led to the

Imperial Defence Conference in the summer of the following year.

{13}

CHAPTER II

THE OUTBREAK OF WAR

When war came, it came suddenly. A man who had happened to fall sick

of a fever on St. Swithin's day 1914, but was so far on the way to

convalescence four weeks later as to desire news of the outside world,

must have been altogether incredulous of the tidings which first

greeted his ears.

When he fell ill the nations were at peace. The townspeople of Europe

were in a holiday humour, packing their trunks and portmanteaus for

'land travel or sea-faring.' The country people were getting in their

harvest or looking forward hopefully to the vintage. Business was

prosperous. Credit was good. Money, in banking phraseology, was

'cheap.' The horror of the Serajevo assassinations had already faded

almost into oblivion. At the worst this sensational event was only an

affair of police. Such real anxiety as existed in the United Kingdom

had reference to Ireland.

We can imagine the invalid's first feeble question on public

affairs:--'What has happened in Ulster?'--The answer, 'Nothing has

happened in Ulster.'--The sigh of relief with which he sinks back on

his pillows.

When, however, they proceed to tell him what has happened, elsewhere

than in Ulster, during the {14} four weeks while they have been

watching by his bedside, will he not fancy that his supposed recovery

is only an illusion, and that he is still struggling with the phantoms

of his delirium?

For what will they have to report? That the greater part of the world

which professes Christianity has called out its armies; that more than

half Europe has already joined battle; that England, France, Russia,

Belgium, Servia, and Montenegro on the one side are ranged against

Germany and Austria on the other. Japan, they will tell him, is upon

the point of declaring war. The Turk is wondering if, and when, he may

venture to come in; while the Italian, the Roumanian, the Bulgar, the

Greek, the Dutchman, the Dane, and the Swede are reckoning no less

anxiously for how short or long a period it may still be safe for them

to stand out. Three millions of men, or thereabouts--a British Army

included--are advancing against one another along the mountain barriers

of Luxemburg, Lorraine, and Alsace. Another three millions are engaged

in similar evolutions among the lakes of East Prussia, along the

river-banks of Poland, and under the shadow of the Carpathians. A

large part of Belgium is already devastated, her villages are in ashes

or flames, her eastern fortresses invested, her capital threatened by

the invader.

Nine-tenths or more of the navies of the world are cleared for action,

and are either scouring the seas in pursuit, or are withdrawn under the

shelter of land-batteries watching their opportunity for a stroke.

Air-craft circle by day and night over the cities, dropping bombs, with

a careless and impartial aim, upon buildings both private and public,

both sacred and profane, upon churches, palaces, hospitals, {15} and

arsenals. The North Sea and the Baltic are sown with mines. The trade

of the greater part of industrial Europe is at a standstill; the rest

is disorganised; while the credit and finances, not merely of Europe,

but of every continent, are temporarily in a state either of chaos or

paralysis.

[Sidenote: A NIGHTMARE]

To the bewildered convalescent all this may well have seemed

incredible. It is hardly to be wondered at if he concluded that the

fumes of his fever were not yet dispersed, and that this frightful

phantasmagoria had been produced, not by external realities, but by the

disorders of his own brain.

How long it might have taken to convince him of the truth and substance

of these events we may judge from our own recent experience. How long

was it after war broke out, before even we, who had watched the trouble

brewing through all its stages, ceased to be haunted, even in broad

daylight, by the feeling that we were asleep, and that the whole thing

was a nightmare which must vanish when we awoke? We were faced (so at

least it seemed at frequent moments) not by facts, but by a spectre,

and one by no means unfamiliar--the spectre of Europe at war, so long

dreaded by some, so scornfully derided by others, so often driven away,

of late years so persistently reappearing. But this time the thing

refused to be driven away. It sat, hunched up, with its head resting

on its hands, as pitiless and inhuman as one of the gargoyles on a

Gothic cathedral, staring through us, as if we were merely vapour, at

something beyond.

So late as Wednesday, July 29--the day on which Austria declared war on

Servia--there was {16} probably not one Englishman in a hundred who

believed it possible that, within a week, his own country would be at

war; still less, that a few days later the British Army would be

crossing the Channel to assist France and Belgium in repelling a German

invasion. To the ordinary man--and not merely to the ordinary man, but

equally to the press, and the great majority of politicians--such

things were unthinkable until they occurred. Unfortunately, the

inability to think a thing is no more a protection against its

occurrence than the inability to see a thing gives security to the

ostrich.

The sequence of events which led up to the final disaster is of great

importance, although very far from being in itself a full explanation

of the causes.

On June 28, 1914, the heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, together

with his consort, was murdered by a young Bosnian at Serajevo, not far

distant from the southern frontier. The Imperial authorities

instituted a secret enquiry into the circumstances of the plot, as a

result of which they professed to have discovered that it had been

hatched at Belgrade, that Government officials were implicated in it,

and that so far from being reprobated, it was approved by Servian

public opinion.[1]

On Thursday, July 23--a month after the tragedy--Austria suddenly

delivered an ultimatum to Servia, and demanded an acceptance of its

terms within forty-eight hours. The demands put forward were {17}

harsh, humiliating, and unconscionable. They were such as could not

have been accepted, as they stood, by any nation which desired to

preserve a shred of its independence. They had been framed with the

deliberate intention, either of provoking a refusal which might afford

a pretext for war, or of procuring an acceptance which would at once

reduce the Servian Kingdom to the position of a vassal. Even in Berlin

it was admitted[2] that this ultimatum asked more than it was

reasonable to expect Servia to yield. But none the less, there can be

but little doubt that the German ambassador at Vienna saw and approved

the document before it was despatched, and it seems more than likely

that he had a hand in drafting it. It also rests on good authority

that the German Kaiser was informed beforehand of the contents, and

that he did not demur to its presentation.[3]

[Sidenote: THE SERVIAN REPLY]

On the evening of Saturday, July 25, the Servian Government, as

required, handed in its answer. The purport of this, when it became

known to the world, excited surprise by the humility of its tone and

the substance of its submission. Almost everything that {18} Austria

had demanded was agreed to. What remained outstanding was clearly not

worth quarrelling about, unless a quarrel were the object of the

ultimatum. The refusal, such as it was, did not close the door, but,

on the contrary, contained an offer to submit the subjects of

difference to the Hague Convention.[4]

The document was a lengthy one. The Austrian minister at Belgrade

nevertheless found time to read it through, to weigh it carefully, to

find it wanting, to ask for his passports, and to catch his train, all

within a period not exceeding three-quarters of an hour from the time

at which it was put into his hands.[5]

When these occurrences became known, the English Foreign Minister

immediately made proposals for a conference between representatives of

Germany, France, Italy, and Great Britain, with the object of

discovering some means of peaceful settlement.[6] France and Italy

promptly accepted his invitation.[7] Germany, while professing to

desire mediation, did not accept it.[8] Consequently Sir Edward Grey's

effort failed; and before he was able to renew it in any more

acceptable form, Austria, acting with a promptitude almost unique in

her annals, declared war upon Servia, and hostilities began.

It is unnecessary to enter here into an examination of the feverish and

fruitless attempts to preserve peace, which were made in various

quarters during the next four and twenty hours. They present a {19}

most pathetic appearance, like the efforts of a crew, sitting with oars

unshipped, arguing, exhorting, and imploring, while their boat drifts

on to the smooth lip of the cataract.

[Sidenote: MOBILIZATION]

Russia ordered the mobilisation of her Southern armies, alleging that

she could not stand by while a Slav nation was being crushed out of

existence, despite the fact that it had made an abject submission for

an unproved offence.[9]

Subsequently, on Friday, July 31, Russia--having, as she considered,

reasons for believing that Germany was secretly mobilising her whole

forces--proceeded to do likewise.[10]

Germany simultaneously declared 'a state of war' within her own

territories, and a veil instantly fell upon all her internal

proceedings. She demanded that Russia should cease her mobilisation,

and as no answer which satisfied her was forthcoming, but only an

interchange of telegrams between the two sovereigns--disingenuous on

the one side and not unreasonably suspicious on the other--Germany

declared war on Russia on Saturday, August 1.

On Saturday and Sunday, war on a grand scale being by this time

certain, the chief interest centred in questions of neutrality.

Germany enquired of France whether she would undertake to stand

aside--knowing full well beforehand that the terms of the Dual Alliance

compelled the Republic to lend assistance if Russia were attacked by

more than one power. {20} Sir Edward Grey enquired of France and

Germany if they would undertake to respect the integrity of Belgium.

France replied in the affirmative. Germany declined to commit herself,

and this was rightly construed as a refusal.[11]

While this matter was still the subject of diplomatic discussion the

German Army advanced into the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg, and was

correctly reported as having entered Belgian territory near Liège and

French territory near Cirey.

On the evening of Sunday, August 2, the German Government presented an

ultimatum to Belgium[12] demanding free passage for its troops, thereby

putting its intentions beyond all doubt.

On the same day Italy issued a declaration of neutrality, making it

clear that, although a member of the Triple Alliance, she did not

consider herself bound to support her allies in a war of aggression.[13]

Meanwhile Germany had been making enquiries as to the attitude of

England, and, startled to discover that this country might not be

willing tamely to submit to the violation of Belgium and invasion of

France, proceeded to state, under cross-examination, the price she was

prepared to pay, or at any rate to promise, for the sake of securing

British neutrality.[14]

[Sidenote: ENGLAND DECLARES WAR]

On Tuesday, August 4, the British Ambassador at Berlin presented an

ultimatum which demanded an assurance, before midnight, that the

integrity of Belgium would not be violated. The answer was given

informally at a much earlier hour by the {21} bombardment of Liège; and

shortly before midnight England declared war on Germany.[15]

Two days later Austria declared herself to be at war with Russia, and

within a week from that date Great Britain and France issued a similar

declaration against Austria.

[1] There is perhaps as much reason, certainly no more, for believing

that an official clique at Belgrade plotted the Serajevo murders, as

that an official clique at Vienna connived at them, by deliberately

withdrawing police protection from the unfortunate and unpopular

Archduke on the occasion of his visit to a notorious hotbed of sedition.

[2] Herr von Jagow "also admitted that the Servian Government could not

swallow certain of the Austro-Hungarian demands.... He repeated very

earnestly that, though he had been accused of knowing all the contents

of that note, he had in fact no such knowledge."--Sir H. Rumbold at

Berlin to Sir Edward Grey (White Paper, No. 18).

[3] "Although I am unable to verify it, I have private information that

the German Ambassador (_i.e._ at Vienna) knew the text of the Austrian

ultimatum to Servia before it was despatched and telegraphed it to the

German Emperor. I know from the German Ambassador himself that he

endorses every line of it."--British Ambassador at Vienna to Sir Edward

Grey (White Paper, No. 95). (Cf. also White Book, Nos. 95 and 141;

French Yellow Book, No. 87; Russian Orange Book, No. 41.)

"The German Ambassador (_i.e._ in London) read me a telegram from the

German Foreign Office saying that his Government had not known

beforehand, and had no more than other Powers to do with the stiff

terms of the Austrian note to Servia."--Sir Edward Grey to the British

Ambassador in Berlin (White Paper, No. 25). (Cf. also French Yellow

Book, Nos. 17, 30, 36, 41, 57, and 94.)

[4] Last paragraph of Reply of Servian Government to Austro-Hungarian

note.

[5] White Paper, Nos. 20 and 23.

[6] White Paper, No. 36.

[7] White Paper, Nos. 35, 42, and 52.

[8] White Paper, Nos. 43 and 71. Cf. also German White Book, Nos. 12

and 15.

[9] White Paper, No. 113; Russian Orange Book, No. 77; French Yellow

Book, No. 95.

[10] These suspicions were well founded. German mobilisation began at

least two days earlier (White Paper, No. 113; French Yellow Book, Nos.

60, 88, 89, and 106).

[11] White Paper, Nos. 114, 122, 123, and 125.

[12] Belgian Grey Book, No. 20; French Yellow Book, No. 141.

[13] White Paper, No. 152; French Yellow Book, No. 124.

[14] White Paper, Nos. 85 and 123.

[15] "I found the Chancellor very agitated. His Excellency at once

began a harangue which lasted for about twenty minutes. He said that

the step taken by His Majesty's Government was terrible to a degree:

just for a word--'neutrality,' a word which in war time had so often

been disregarded--just for a scrap of paper Great Britain was going to

make war on a kindred nation, who desired nothing better than to be

friends with her."--British Ambassador at Berlin to Sir Edward Grey

(White Paper, No. 160).

{22}

CHAPTER III

WHO WANTED WAR?

Such is the chronological order of events; but on the face of it, it

explains little of the underlying causes of this conflagration. Why

with the single exception of Italy had all the great naval and military

powers of Europe, together with several smaller nations, suddenly

plunged into war? Which of the combatants wanted war? ... To the

latter question the answer can be given at once and with

certainty--save Germany and Austria no nation wanted war, and even

Germany and Austria did not want _this_ war.

[Sidenote: DESIRE FOR PEACE]

Whatever opinion we may entertain of the Servian character or of her

policy in recent times, it is at all events certain that she did not

desire war with Austria. That she submitted to the very depths of

humiliation in order to avoid war cannot be doubted by any one who has

read her reply to the demands put forward by Vienna. Only a few months

since, she had emerged from two sanguinary wars--the first against

Turkey and the second against Bulgaria--and although victory had

crowned her arms in both of these contests, her losses in men and

material had been very severe.

That Russia did not desire war was equally plain. {23} She was still

engaged in repairing the gigantic losses which she had sustained in her

struggle with Japan. At least two years must elapse before her new

fleet would be in a condition to take the sea, and it was generally

understood that at least as long a period would be necessary, in order

to carry through the scheme of reorganisation by which she hoped to

place her army in a state of efficiency. Whatever might be the

ultimate designs of Russia, it was altogether incredible that she would

have sought to bring about a war, either at this time or in the near

future.

Russia, like England, had nothing to gain by war. Her development was

proceeding rapidly. For years to come her highest interest must be

peace. A supreme provocation was necessary in order to make her draw

the sword. Such a provocation had been given in 1909 when, ignoring

the terms of the Treaty of Berlin, Austria had formally annexed the

provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina. But at that time Russia's

resources were not merely unprepared; they were utterly exhausted.

Menaced simultaneously by Vienna and Berlin, she had been forced on

that occasion to stand by, while her prestige in the Balkan peninsula

suffered a blow which she was powerless to ward off. Now a further

encroachment was threatened from the same quarters. A Serb power which

looked to St. Petersburg[1] for protection was to be put under the heel

of Austria.

Nor can any one believe that France wanted war. It is true that for a

year, or rather more, after the Agadir episode[2] the spirit of France

was perturbed. But no Foreign Office in the world--least of all that

{24} of Germany--was so ill-informed as to believe that the sporadic

demonstrations, which occurred in the press and elsewhere, were caused

by any eagerness for adventure or any ambition of conquest. They were

due, as every calm observer was aware, to one thing and one thing

only--the knowledge that the Republic had come to the very end of her

human resources; that all her sons who were capable of bearing arms had

already been enrolled in her army; that she could do nothing further to

strengthen her defences against Germany, who up to that time, had taken

for military training barely one half of her available male population,

and who was now engaged in increasing her striking power both by land

and sea. The cause of this restlessness in France was the fear that

Germany was preparing an invincible superiority and would strike so

soon as her weapon was forged. If so, would it not be better for

France to strike at once, while she had still a fighting chance, and

before she was hopelessly outnumbered? But this mood, the product of

anxiety and suspense, which had been somewhat prevalent in

irresponsible quarters during the autumn of 1912 and the early part of

the following year, had passed away. Partly it wore itself out; partly

popular interest was diverted to other objects of excitement.

France, during the twelve months preceding Midsummer 1914, had been

singularly quiescent as regards foreign affairs. Her internal

conditions absorbed attention. Various events had conspired to disturb

public confidence in the fidelity of her rulers, and in the adequacy of

their military preparations. The popular mood had been sobered,

disquieted, and scandalised to such a point that war, {25} so far from

being sought after, was the thing of all others which France most

wished to avoid.

[Sidenote: THE CASE OF BELGIUM]

It is unnecessary to waste words in establishing the aversion of

Belgium from war. There was nothing which she could hope to gain by it

in any event. Suffering and loss--how great suffering and loss even

Belgium herself can hardly have foreseen--were inevitable to her civil

population, as well as to her soldiers, whether the war went well or

ill. Her territory lay in the direct way of the invaders, and was

likely, as in times past, to become the 'cockpit of Europe.' She was

asked to allow the free passage of the Germanic forces. She was

promised restoration of her independence and integrity at the end of

the war. But to grant this arrogant demand would have been to destroy

her dynasty and wreck her institutions; for what King or Constitution

could have withstood the popular contempt for a government which

acquiesced in national degradation? And to believe the promise, was a

thing only possible for simpletons; for what was such an assurance

worth, seeing that, at the very moment of the offer, Germany was

engaged in breaking her former undertaking, solemnly guaranteed and

recorded, that the neutrality of Belgium should be respected? That the

sympathies of Belgium would have been with France in any event cannot

of course be doubted; for a French victory threatened no danger,

whereas the success of German arms was a menace to her independence,

and a prelude to vassalage or absorption in the Empire.

Neither the British people nor their Government wanted war. In the end

they accepted it reluctantly, and only after most strenuous efforts had

been made {26} to prevent its occurrence. To the intelligent foreign

observer, however unfriendly, who has a thorough understanding of

British interests, ideas, and habits of mind this is self-evident. He

does not need a White Paper to prove it to him.

It is clear that Austria wanted war--not this war certainly, but a snug

little war with a troublesome little neighbour, as to the outcome of

which, with the ring kept, there could be no possibility of doubt. She

obviously hoped that indirectly, and as a sort of by-product of this

convenient little war, she would secure a great victory of the

diplomatic sort over her most powerful neighbour--a matter of

infinitely more consequence to her than the ostensible object of her

efforts.

The crushing of Servia would mean the humiliation of Russia, and would

shake, for a second time within five years, the confidence of the

Balkan peoples in the power of the Slav Empire to protect its kindred

and co-religionists against the aggression of the Teutons and Magyars.

Anything which would lower the credit of Russia in the Balkan peninsula

would be a gain to Austria. To her more ambitious statesmen such an

achievement might well seem to open the way for coveted expansions

towards the Aegean Sea, which had been closed against her, to her great

chagrin, by the Treaty of Bucharest.[3] To others, whose chief anxiety

was to preserve peace in their own time, and to prevent the

Austro-Hungarian State from splitting asunder, the repression of Servia

seemed to promise security against the growing unrest and discontent of

the vast Slav population which was included in the Empire.

{27}

[Sidenote: AUSTRIAN ILL-FORTUNE]

For something nearer two centuries than one the Austro-Hungarian Empire

has been miscalculating and suffering for its miscalculations, until

its blunders and ill-fortune have become a byword. Scheming ever for

safety, Austria has never found it. The very modesty of her aim has

helped to secure its own defeat. Her unvarying method has been a timid

and unimaginative repression. In politics, as in most other human

affairs, equilibrium is more easily attained by moving forward than by

standing still. Austria has sought security for powers, and systems,

and balances which were worn out, unsuited to our modern world, and

therefore incapable of being secured at all. The more she has schemed

for safety the more precarious her integrity has become. There are

things which scheming will never accomplish--things which for their

achievement need a change of spirit, some new birth of faith or

freedom. But in Vienna change in any direction is ill-regarded, and

new births are ever more likely to be strangled in their cradles than

to arrive at maturity.

Distracted by the problem of her divers, discordant, and unwelded[4]

races, Austria has always inclined to put her trust in schemers who

were able to produce some plausible system, some ingenious device, some

promising ladder of calculation, or miscalculation, for reaching the

moon without going through the clouds. In the present case there can

be no doubt that she allowed herself to be persuaded by her German

neighbours that Russia was not in a position to make {28} an effective

fight, and would therefore probably stand by, growling and showing her

teeth. Consequently it was safe to take a bold line; to present Servia

with an ultimatum which had been made completely watertight against

acceptance of the unconditional and immediate kind; to reject any

acceptance which was not unconditional and immediate; to allow the

Government of King Peter no time for second thoughts, the European

Powers no time for mediation, her own Minister at Belgrade time only to

give one hasty glance at the reply, call for his passports, and catch

his train. So far as poor humanity can make certain of anything,

Austria, with German approval and under German guidance, made certain

of war with Servia.

But the impression produced, when this matter first began to excite

public attention, was somewhat different. Foreign newspaper

correspondents at Vienna and Berlin were specially well cared for after

the Serajevo murders, and when the ultimatum was delivered, they

immediately sent to England and elsewhere accounts of the position

which made it appear, that the Austrian Government and people, provoked

beyond endurance by the intrigues of Servia, had acted impetuously,

possibly unwisely, but not altogether inexcusably.

At this stage the idea was also sedulously put about that the Kaiser

was behaving like a gentleman. It was suggested that Germany had been

left very much in the dark until the explosion actually occurred, and

that she was now paying the penalty of loyalty to an indiscreet friend,

by suffering herself to be dragged into a quarrel in which she had

neither interest nor concern. In these early days, when {29} Sir

Edward Grey was striving hopefully, if somewhat innocently, after

peace, it was assumed by the world in general, that Germany, for her

own reasons, must desire, at least as ardently as the British Foreign

Minister, to find a means of escape from an exceedingly awkward

position, and that she would accordingly use her great influence with

her ally to this end. If there had been a grain of truth in this

assumption, peace would have been assured, for France and Italy had

already promised their support. But this theory broke down very

speedily; and as soon as the official papers were published, it was

seen never to have rested on the smallest basis of fact.

[Sidenote: GERMANY USES AUSTRIA]

So far from Germany having been dragged in against her will, it was

clear that from the beginning she had been using Austria as an agent,

who was not unwilling to stir up strife, but was only half-conscious of

the nature and dimensions of the contest which was bound to follow. It

is not credible that Germany was blind to the all-but-inevitable

results of letting Austria loose to range around, of hallooing her on,

and of comforting her with assurances of loyal support. But it may

well be believed that Austria herself did not see the situation in the

same clear light, and remained almost up to the last, under the

delusion, which had been so industriously fostered by the German

ambassador at Vienna, that Russia could not fight effectively and

therefore would probably choose not to fight at all.

But although Austria may have had no adequate conception of the

consequences which her action would bring about, it is certain that

Germany foresaw them, with the single exception of British {30}

intervention; that what she foresaw she also desired; and further, that

at the right moment she did her part, boldly but clumsily, to guard

against any miscarriage of her schemes.

Germany continued to make light of all apprehensions of serious danger

from St. Petersburg; but at the eleventh hour Austria appears suddenly

to have realised for herself the appalling nature of the catastrophe

which impended. Something happened; what it was we do not know, and

the present generation will probably never know. We may conjecture,

however--but it is only conjecture--that by some means or other the

intrigues of the war cabal at Vienna--the instrument of German policy,

owing more fealty to the Kaiser than to their own Emperor--had been

unmasked. In hot haste they were disavowed, and Austria opened

discussions with Russia 'in a perfectly friendly manner,'[5] and with

good hopes of success, as to how the catastrophe might still be averted.

On Thursday, July 30, we are informed, the tension between Vienna and

St. Petersburg had greatly relaxed. An arrangement compatible with the

honour and interests of both empires seemed almost in sight when, on

the following day, Germany suddenly intervened with ultimatums to

France and Russia, of a kind to which only one answer was possible.

The spirit of the Ems telegram[6] had inebriated a duller generation.

"A few days' delay," our Ambassador at Vienna concludes, "might in all

{31} probability have saved Europe from one of the greatest calamities

in history."[7]

[Sidenote: SIR EDWARD GREY]

As we turn over the official pages in which the British Government has

set out its case, we are inclined to marvel--knowing what we now

know--that our Foreign Minister should have shown so much zeal and

innocence in pleading the cause of peace on high grounds of humanity,

and with a faith, apparently unshaken to the last, that in principle at

least, the German Government were in full agreement with his aims. The

practical disadvantages of being a gentleman are that they are apt to

make a man too credulous and not sufficiently inquisitive. Sir Edward

Grey acted according to his nature. His miscalculation was one which

his fellow-countrymen have not hesitated to forgive. But clearly he

misjudged the forces which were opposed to him. He was deceived by

hollow assurances. He beat hopefully, but vainly and pathetically,

against a door which was already barred and bolted, and behind which

(could he but have seen) the Kaiser, with his Ministers and Staff, was

wholly absorbed in the study of war maps and tables of mobilisation.

Sir Edward Grey failed to prevent war, and in the circumstances it is

hardly to be wondered at. But if he failed in one direction he

succeeded in another. His whole procedure from first to last was so

transparently disinterested and above board that, when war did actually

come upon us, it found us, not merely as a nation, but also as an

Empire, more united than we have ever been at any crisis, since the

Great Armada was sighted off Plymouth Sound. English people felt that

whatever else there {32} might be to reproach themselves with, they at

any rate went into the fight with clean hands. What is even more

remarkable, the people of all neutral countries, with the possible

exception of the rigid moralists of Constantinople, appeared for once

to share the same opinion.

This was a great achievement; nearly, but not quite, the greatest of

all. To have prevented war would have been a greater achievement

still.... But was war inevitable? Or was M. Sazonof right, when he

said to our Ambassador, on the morning of the day when Servia replied

to the Austrian ultimatum,[8] that if Britain then took her stand

firmly with France and Russia there would be no war; but that if we

failed them then, rivers of blood would flow, and in the end we should

be dragged into war?[9]

Sir Edward Grey refused to take this course. He judged that a

pronouncement of such a character would appear in the light of a menace

to the governments of Germany and Austria, and also to public opinion

in those countries; that it would only stiffen their backs; that a more

hopeful way of proceeding was for England to deal with Germany as a

friend, letting it be understood that if our counsels of moderation

were disregarded, we might be driven most reluctantly into the camp of

her enemies. To this, when it was urged by our Ambassador at St.

Petersburg, the Russian Minister only replied--and the words seem to

have in them a note of tragedy and weariness, as if the speaker well

knew that he was talking to deaf ears--that unfortunately Germany was

convinced that she could count upon the neutrality of Britain.[10]

{33}

The alternative was to speak out as Mr. Lloyd George spoke at the time

of the Agadir crisis, 'to rattle the sabre,' and to take our stand 'in

shining armour' beside the other two members of the Entente.

Sir Edward Grey believed that this procedure would not have the effect

desired, but the reverse. Further, it would have committed this

country to a policy which had never been submitted to it, and which it

had never considered, far less approved, even in principle. The Agadir

precedent could be distinguished. There the danger which threatened

France arose directly out of treaty engagements with ourselves. Here

there was no such particular justification, but a wide general question

of the safety of Europe and the British Empire.

With regard to this wider question, notwithstanding its imminence for a

good many years, the British Empire had not made up its mind, nor

indeed had it ever been asked to do so by those in authority. Sir

Edward Grey appears to have thought that, on democratic principles, he

had not the right to make such a pronouncement as M. Sazonof desired;

and that even if this pathway might have led to peace, it was one which

he could not tread.

The one alternative was tried, and failed. We proffered our good

offices, we urged our counsels of moderation, all in vain. That, at

any rate, is among the certainties. And it is also among the

certainties that, although this alternative failed, it brought us two

signal benefits, in the unity of our own people and the goodwill of the

world.

About the other alternative, which was not tried, we cannot of course

speak with the same sureness. If Sir Edward Grey had taken the step

which {34} M. Sazonof desired him to take, he would at once have been

vehemently opposed and denounced by a very large body of his own

fellow-countrymen, who, never having been taken frankly into the

confidence of the Government with regard to the foundations of British

policy, were at this early stage of the proceedings almost wholly

ignorant of the motives and issues involved. This being so, if war had

ensued, we should then have gone into it a divided instead of a united

nation. On the other hand, if peace had ensued, it must have been a

patched-up ill-natured peace; and it is not improbable that Sir Edward

Grey would have been driven from office by enemies in his own

household, playing the game of Germany unconsciously, as on previous

occasions, and would have brought the Cabinet down with him in his

fall. For at this time, owing to domestic difficulties, the Government

stood in a very perilous position, and it needed only such a mutiny, as

a bold departure in foreign affairs would almost certainly have

provoked among the Liberal party, to bring Mr. Asquith's government to

an end.

As one reads and re-reads the official documents in our present

twilight, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that on the main

point Sir Edward Grey was wrong and M. Sazonof right. Germany, with

her eyes wide open, had determined on war with Russia and France,

unless by Russia's surrender of her prestige in the Balkans--a

surrender in its way almost as abject as that which had already been

demanded of Servia--the results of victory could be secured without

recourse to arms. Germany, nevertheless, was not prepared for war with

Britain. She was reckoning with confidence on our standing aside, {35}

on our unwillingness and inability to intervene.[11] If it had been

made clear to her, that in case she insisted on pressing things to

extremity, we should on no account stand aside, she might then have

eagerly forwarded, instead of deliberately frustrating, Austria's

eleventh-hour negotiations for an accommodation with St. Petersburg.

No one, except Germans, whose judgments, naturally enough, are

disordered by the miscarriage of their plans, has dreamed of bringing

the charge against Sir Edward Grey that he wished for war, or fomented

it, or even that through levity or want of vigilance, he allowed it to

occur. The criticism is, that although his intentions were of the

best, and his industry unflagging, he failed to realise the situation,

and to adopt the only means which might have secured peace.

The charge which is not only alleged, but established against Austria

is of a wholly different order. It is that she provoked war--blindly

perhaps, and not foreseeing what the war would be, but at any rate

recklessly and obstinately.

The crime of which Germany stands accused is that she deliberately

aimed at war, and that when there seemed a chance of her plan

miscarrying, she promptly took steps to render peace impossible. Among

neutral countries is there one, the public opinion of which has

acquitted her? And has not Italy, her own ally, condemned her by

refusing assistance on the ground that this war is a war of German

aggression?

[1] The name of the Russian capital was not changed until after the

declaration of war, and therefore St. Petersburg is used in this

chapter instead of Petrograd.

[2] July-September 1911.

[3] August 1913.

[4] The total population of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, including

Bosnia-Herzegovina, is roughly 50 millions. Of these 11 millions are

Germans and 10 millions Magyars. About 24 millions are composed of a

strange variety of Slav races. The remaining 5 millions consist of

Italians, Roumanians, and Jews.

[5] White Paper, No. 161.

[6] A harmless and unprovocative telegram from the King of Prussia to

Bismarck in July 1870 was, by the latter, so altered in tone that when

published it achieved the intention of its editor and served as 'a red

rag to the Gallic bull' and brought about the declaration of war by

Napoleon III.--Bismarck's _Reflections and Reminiscences_, vol. ii. p.

100.

[7] White Paper, No. 161.

[8] Saturday, July 25.

[9] White Paper, No. 17.

[10] Ibid. Nos. 17 and 44.

[11] A proof of this is the outburst of hatred in Germany against

England so soon as we ranged ourselves with France and Russia.

{36}

CHAPTER IV

THE PENALTY OF NEGLIGENCE

The East has been drawn into the circle of this war as well as the

West, the New World as well as the Old; nor can any man feel certain,

or even hopeful, that the conflagration will be content to burn itself

out where it is now raging, and will not spread across further

boundaries.... It is therefore no matter of surprise that people

should be asking themselves--"Of what nature is this war? Is it one of

those calamities, like earthquake or tempest, drought or flood, which

lawyers describe as 'the act of God'? Or is it a thing which, having

been conceived and deliberately projected by the wit of man, could have

been averted by human courage and judgment? Was this war, or was it

not, inevitable?" ... To which it may be answered, that no war is

inevitable until it occurs; and then every war is apt to make

pretensions to that character.

In old times it was the Fates, superior even to Zeus, who decreed wars.

In later days wars were regarded as the will of God. And to-day

professional interpreters of events are as ready as ever with

explanations why this war was, in the nature of things, unavoidable.

Whether the prevailing priesthood wears white robes and fillets, or

rich vestments, or {37} cassocks and Geneva bands, or the severer

modern garb of the professor or politician, it appears to be equally

prone to dogmatic blasphemy. There is no proof that this war was

pre-ordained either by a Christian God or by the laws of Pagan Nature.

[Sidenote: WAS WAR INEVITABLE?]

One may doubt if any war is inevitable. If statesmen can gain time the

chances are that they will gain peace. This was the view of public

opinion throughout the British Empire down to July 1914. It was in a

special sense the view of the Liberal party; and their view was

endorsed, if not by the whole body of Unionists, at any rate by their

leader, in terms which admitted of no misunderstanding.[1] It is also

the point of view from which this book is written.... This war was not

inevitable; it could have been avoided, but on one condition--_if

England had been prepared_.

England was not prepared either morally or materially. Her rulers had

left her in the dark as to the dangers which surrounded her. They had

neglected to make clear to her--probably even to themselves--the

essential principles of British policy, and the sacrifices which it

entailed. They had failed to provide armaments to correspond with this

policy. When the crisis arose their hands were tied. They had to sit

down hurriedly, and decipher their policy, and find out what it meant.

Still more hurriedly they had to get it approved, not merely by their

fellow-countrymen, but by their own colleagues--a work, if rumour[2]

speaks truly, of {38} considerable difficulty. Then they found that

one of the main supports was wanting; and they had to set to work

frantically to make an army adequate to their needs.

But it was too late. By this time their policy had fallen about their

ears in ruins. For their policy was the neutrality of Belgium, and

that was already violated. Their policy was the defence of France, and

invasion had begun. Their policy was peace, and peace was broken. The

nation which would enjoy peace must be strong enough to enforce peace.

The moods of nations pass like clouds, only more slowly. They bank up

filled with menace; we look again and are surprised to find that they

have melted away as silently and swiftly as they came. One does not

need to be very old to recall various wars, deemed at one time or

another to be inevitable, which never occurred. In the 'sixties' war

with the second Empire was judged to be inevitable; and along our

coasts dismantled forts remain to this day as monuments of our fathers'

firm belief in the imminence of an invasion. In the 'seventies,' and

indeed until we had entered the present century, war with Russia was

regarded as inevitable by a large number of well-informed people; and

for a part of this period war with the French Republic was judged to be

no less so. Fortune on the whole was favourable. Circumstances

changed. The sense of a common danger healed old antagonisms. Causes

of chronic irritation disappeared of themselves, or were removed by

diplomatic surgery. And with the disappearance of these inflammatory

centres, misunderstandings, prejudices, and suspicions began to vanish

also. {39} Gradually it became clear, that what had been mistaken on

both sides for destiny was nothing more inexorable than a fit of

temper, or a conflict of business interests not incapable of

adjustment. And in a sense the German menace was less formidable than

any of these others, for the reason that it was a fit of temper on one

side only--a fit of temper, or megalomania. We became fully conscious

of the German mood only after the end of the South African War, when

its persistence showed clearly that it arose, not from any sympathy

with the Dutch, but from some internal cause. When this cause was

explained to us it seemed so inadequate, so absurd, so unreal, so

contrary to the facts, that only a small fraction of our nation ever

succeeded in believing that it actually existed. We had been taught by

Carlyle, that while the verities draw immortal life from the facts to

which they correspond, the falsities have but a phenomenal existence,

and a brief influence over the minds of men. Consequently the greater

part of the British people troubled their heads very little about this

matter, never thought things would come to a crisis, or lead to serious

mischief; but trusted always that, in due time, the ridiculous

illusions of our neighbours would vanish and die of their own inanity.

[Sidenote: GERMAN JEALOUSY]

We listened with an equal wonder and weariness to German complaints

that we were jealous of her trade and bent on strangling it; that we

grudged her colonial expansion, and were intriguing all the world over

to prevent it; that we had isolated her and ringed her round with

hostile alliances. We knew that these notions were all entirely false.

We knew that, so far from hampering German commerce, {40} our Free

Trade system in the United Kingdom, in the Dependencies, and in the

Indian Empire had fostered it and helped its rapid and brilliant

success more than any other external factor.

For fully thirty years from 1870--during which period what remained of

the uncivilised portions of the world was divided up, during which

period also Germany was the most powerful nation in Europe, and could

have had anything she wanted of these new territories almost for the

asking--Bismarck and the statesmen of his school, engrossed mainly in

the European situation, set little store by colonies, thought of them

rather as expensive and dangerous vanities, and abstained deliberately

from taking an energetic part in the scramble. We knew, that in Africa

and the East, Germany had nevertheless obtained considerable

possessions, and that it was, primarily her own fault that she had not

obtained more. We assumed, no doubt very foolishly, that she must

ultimately become aware of her absurdity in blaming us for her own

neglect. We forgot human nature, and the apologue of the drunkard who

cursed the lamp-post for its clumsiness in getting in his way.

The British people knew that Germany was talking nonsense; but

unfortunately they never fully realised that she was sincere, and meant

all the things she said. They thought she only half believed in her

complaints, as a man is apt to do when ill-temper upsets his

equanimity. They were confident that in the end the falsities would

perish and the verities remain, and that in the fulness of time the two

nations would become friends.

As to this last the British people probably judged correctly; but they

entirely overlooked the fact, {41} that if truth was to be given a

chance of prevailing in the end, it was important to provide against

mischief which might very easily occur in the meantime. Nor did their

rulers, whose duty it was, ever warn them seriously of this necessity.

[Sidenote: DANGERS OF ILL-TEMPER]

When a man works himself up into a rage and proceeds to flourish a

loaded revolver, something more is necessary for the security of the

bystanders than the knowledge that his ill-temper does not rest upon a

reasonable basis. War was not inevitable, certainly; but until the

mood of Germany changed, it was exceedingly likely to occur unless the

odds against the aggressor were made too formidable for him to face.

None of the governments, however, which have controlled our national

destinies since 1900, ever developed sufficient energy to realise the

position of affairs, or ever mustered up courage to tell the people

clearly what the risks were, to state the amount of the premium which

was required to cover the risks, and to insist upon the immediate duty

of the sacrifice which imperial security inexorably demanded.

[1] "I hear it also constantly said--there is no use shutting our eyes

or ears to obvious facts--that owing to divergent interests, war some

day or other between this country and Germany is inevitable. I never

believe in these inevitable wars."--Mr. Bonar Law in _England and

Germany_.

[2] Rumour finds confirmation in the White Paper; also in an interview

with Mr. Lloyd George, reported in _Pearson's Magazine_, March 1915, p.

265, col. ii.

{42}

CHAPTER V

PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY

Although in a technical sense the present war was brought on by

Austrian diplomacy, no one, in England at least, is inclined to rate

the moral responsibility of that empire at the highest figure. It is

in Germany that we find, or imagine ourselves to have found, not only

the true and deep-seated causes of the war, but the immediate occasions

of it.

Not the least of our difficulties, however, is to decide the point--Who

is Germany? Who was her man of business? Who acted for her in the

matter of this war? Who pulled the wires, or touched the button that

set the conflagration blazing? Was this the work of an individual or a

camarilla? Was it the result of one strong will prevailing, or of

several wills getting to loggerheads--wills not particularly strong,

but obstinate, and flustered by internal controversy and external

events? What actually happened--was it meant by the 'super-men' to

happen, or did it come as a shock--not upon 'supermen' at all--but upon

several groups of surprised blunderers? These questions are not likely

to be answered for a generation or more--until, if ever, the archives

of Vienna and Berlin give up their {43} secrets--and it would therefore

be idle to waste too much time in analysis of the probabilities.

The immediate occasion of the catastrophe has been variously attributed

to the German court, army, bureaucracy, professors, press, and people.

If we are looking only for a single thing--the hand which lit the

conflagration--and not for the profounder and more permanent causes and

origins of the trouble, we can at once dismiss several of these

suspects from the dock.

[Sidenote: MEN OF LETTERS]

Men of learning and letters, professors of every variety--a class which

has been christened 'the Pedantocracy' by unfriendly critics--may be

all struck off the charge-sheet as unconcerned in the actual

delinquency of arson.

In fact, if not in name, these are a kind of priesthood, and a large

part of their lives' work has been to spread among German youth the

worship of the State under Hohenzollern kingship. It is impossible of

course to make 'a silk purse out of a sow's ear,' a religion out of a

self-advertising dynasty, or a god out of a machine. Consequently,

except for mischief, their efforts have been mainly wasted. Over a

long period of years, however, they have been engaged in heaping up

combustibles. They have filled men's minds to overflowing with notions

which are very liable to lead to war, and which indeed were designed

for no other purpose than to prepare public opinion for just such a war

as this. Their responsibility therefore is no light one, and it will

be dealt with later. But they are innocent at all events of complicity

in this particular exploit of fire-raising; and if, after the event,

they have sought to excuse, vindicate, and uphold the action of their

rulers it would be hard measure to condemn them for that.

{44}

Nor did the press bring about the war. In other countries, where the

press is free and irresponsible, it has frequently been the prime mover

in such mischief; but never in Germany. For in Germany the press is

incapable of bringing about anything of the political kind, being

merely an instrument and not a principal.

Just as little can the charge of having produced the war be brought

against the people. In other countries, where the people are used to

give marching orders to their rulers, popular clamour has led to

catastrophe of this kind more frequently than any other cause. But

this, again, has never been so in Germany. The German people are

sober, steadfast, and humble in matters of high policy. They have

confidence in their rulers, believe what they are told, obey orders

readily, but do not think of giving them. When war was declared, all

Germans responded to the call of duty with loyalty and devotion. Nay,

having been prepared for at least a generation, they welcomed war with

enthusiasm. According to the lights which were given them to judge by,

they judged every whit as rightly as our own people. The lights were

false lights, hung out deliberately to mislead them and to justify

imperial policy. But this was no fault of theirs. Moreover, the

judgment which they came to with regard to the war was made after the

event, and cannot therefore in any case be held responsible for its

occurrence. This is a people's war surely enough, but just as surely,

the people had no hand in bringing it about.

The circle of the accused is therefore narrowed down to the Court, the

Army, and the Bureaucracy. And there we must leave it for the

present--a joint indictment against all three. But whether these {45}

parties were guilty, all three in equal measure, we cannot conjecture

with the least approach to certainty. Nor can we even say precisely of

what they were guilty--of misunderstanding--of a quarrel among

themselves--of a series of blunders--or of a crime so black and

deliberate, that no apologist will be able ever to delete it from the

pages of history. On all this posterity must be left to pronounce.

[Sidenote: GERMAN MILITARY OPINION]

It is only human nevertheless to be curious about personalities.

Unfortunately for the satisfaction of this appetite, all is darkness as

to the German Army. We may suspect that the Prussian junker, or

country gentleman, controls and dominates it. But even as to this we

may conceivably be wrong. The military genius of some Hanoverian,

Saxon, or Bavarian may possess the mastery in council. As to the real

heads of the army, as to their individual characters, and their potency

in directing policy we know nothing at all. After nine months of war,

we have arrived at no clear notion, even with regard to their relative

values as soldiers in the field. We have even less knowledge as to

their influence beforehand in shaping and deciding the issues of war

and peace.

This much, however, we may reasonably deduce from Bernhardi and other

writers--that military opinion had been anxious for some considerable

number of years past, and more particularly since the Agadir

incident,[1] lest war, which it regarded as ultimately inevitable,

should be delayed until the forces ranged against Germany, especially

upon her Eastern frontier, were too strong for her to cope with.

In the pages of various official publications, and in newspaper reports

immediately before and after {46} war began, we caught glimpses of

certain characters at work; but these were not professional soldiers;

they were members of the Court and the Bureaucracy.

Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, the Imperial Chancellor, comes upon the

scene--a harassed and indignant official--sorely flustered--not by any

means master of his temper--not altogether certain of his facts--in

considerable doubt apparently as to whether things have not passed

behind his back which he ought to have been told of by higher powers,

but was not. He appears to us as a diligent and faithful servant,--one

who does not seek to impose his own decisions, but to excuse, justify,

and carry out, if he can, decisions which have been made by others,

more highly placed and greedier of responsibility than himself.

Herr von Jagow, the Foreign Minister, is much affected. He drops

tears--or comes somewhere near dropping them--over the lost hopes of a

peaceful understanding between England and Germany. We can credit the

sincerity of his sorrow all the more easily, for the reason that Herr

von Jagow behaves throughout the crisis as the courteous gentleman;

while others, who by position were even greater gentlemen, forget

momentarily, in their excitement, the qualities which are usually

associated with that title.

Then there is the German Ambassador at Vienna--obviously a

firebrand--enjoying, one imagines, the confidence of the war parties in

both capitals: also apparently a busy intriguer. The documents show

him acting behind the back of the Berlin Foreign Office, and

communicating direct with the Kaiser.

We gather very clearly that he egged on the {47} statesmen of Vienna,

with great diligence and success, to press Servia to extremes, and to

shear time so short that peace-makers had nothing left to catch hold

of. Russia, he assured them, would never carry her opposition to the

point of war. Even if she did so, he argued with much plausibility,

she would be negligible. For she stood midway in a great military and

naval reformation, than which no situation is more deplorable for the

purposes of carrying on a campaign.

[Sidenote: PRINCE LICHNOWSKY]

When Prince Lichnowsky, the German Ambassador in London, took his

departure at the outbreak of war, he probably left no single enemy

behind him. A simple, friendly, sanguine figure, with a pardonable

vanity which led him to believe the incredible. He produced what is

called in the cant of the day 'an atmosphere,' mainly in drawing-rooms

and newspaper offices, but occasionally, one conjectures, even in

Downing Street itself. His artistry was purely in air and touched

nothing solid. He was useful to his employers, mainly because he put

England off her guard. He would not have been in the least useful if

he had not been mainly sincere.

But though he was useful to German policy, he was not trusted by the

powers in Berlin to attend to their business at the Court of St.

James's except under strict supervision. What precisely were the

duties of Baron von Kuhlmann, Councillor to the Embassy? He was always

very cheerful, and obliging, and ready to smooth any little difficulty

out of the way. On the other hand, he was also very deft at inserting

an obstacle with an air of perfect innocence, which imposed on nearly

every one--even occasionally on the editors of newspapers. For {48}

some reason, however, very few people were willing to accept this

plausible diplomatist's assurances without a grain or two of salt.

Indeed quite a large number were so misled by their prejudices against

him, that they were convinced his prime vocation was that of a spy--a

spy on the country to which he was accredited and on the Ambassador

under whom he served.[2]

[Illustration: THE KAISER]

We know more of the Kaiser than of any of these others, and we have

known him over a much longer period. And yet our knowledge of him has

never enabled us to forecast his actions with any certainty. British

ministers and diplomatists, whose business it is to gauge, not only the

muzzle-velocity of eminent characters, but also the forces of their

recoil, never seem to have arrived at any definite conclusions with

regard to this baffling personality. Whatever he did or did not do,

they were always surprised by it, which gives us some measure of their

capacity if not of his.

The Kaiser is pre-eminently a man of moods. At one time he is Henry

the Fifth, at another Richard the Second. Upon occasions he appears as

Hamlet, cursing fate which impels him to make a decision. Within the

same hour he is Autolycus crying up his wares with an unfeigned

cheerfulness. He is possessed by the demon of quick-change and

restlessness. We learn on good authority that he possesses an almost

{49} incredible number of uniforms which he actually wears, and of

royal residences which he occasionally inhabits. He clothes himself

suitably for each brief occasion, and sleeps rarely, if reports can be

believed, for more than two nights together under the same roof. He is

like an American millionaire in his fondness for rapid and sudden

journeys, and like a democratic politician in his passion for

speech-making.

The phenomena of the moment--those which flicker upon the surface of

things--engage his eager and vivacious interest. Upon such matters his

commentaries are often apt and entertaining. But when he attempts to

deal with deeper issues, and with the underlying principles and causes

of human action, his utterances immediately lose the mind's attention

and keep hold only of the ear's, by virtue of a certain resonance and

blatancy. When the Kaiser discourses to us, as he often does, upon the

profundities of politics, philosophy, and religion, he falls instantly

into set forms, which express nothing that is living and real. He

would have the world believe, and doubtless himself sincerely believes,

that he has plunged, like a pearl-diver, into the deeps, and has

returned thence laden with rich treasures of thought and experience.

But in truth he has never visited this region at all, being of a nature

far too buoyant for such enterprises. He has not found truth, but only

remembered phrases.

The Kaiser is frequently upbraided for his charm of manner by people

who have come under its influence and been misled. One of the

commonest accusations against him is that of duplicity; but indeed it

seems hardly more just to condemn him for duplicity than it would be to

praise him for sincerity. He is a man dangerous to have dealings with,

but this {50} is owing to the irresponsible effervescence of his ideas.

At any given moment he probably means the greater part of what he says;

but the image of one moment is swiftly expelled and obliterated by that

of the next. The Kaiser's untrustworthiness arises not from duplicity,

so much as from the quickness of his fancy, the shallowness of his

judgment, and the shortness of his memory. That his communications

frequently produce the same effects as duplicity, is due to the fact

that he recognises no obligation either to stand by his word, or to

correct the impression which his hasty assurances may have produced in

the mind of his interlocutor. The statesman who is won over to-day by

his advocacy of an English alliance, is astounded on the morrow to find

him encouraging an English pogrom.[3]

{51}

[Sidenote: THE IDEA OF ANTICHRIST]

When a violent convulsion shakes the world people immediately begin to

look about them for some mighty and malevolent character who can be

held responsible for it. To the generations which knew them, Cromwell,

Napoleon, and Bismarck all figured as Antichrist. But in regard to the

policy which produced the present war, of what man can it be said

truly, either that he controlled that policy, or that he brought about

the results which he aimed at? Which of the great personages concerned

possesses the sublime qualities of the spirit of evil?[4]

It is conceivable, though very unlikely, that behind the scenes there

was some strong silent man who worked the others like puppets on a

string; but among those who have made themselves known to us in the

pages of White Papers and the like, there is none whose features bear

the least resemblance to our conception of Antichrist; none who had

firm {52} control of events, or even of himself. There is none of whom

it is possible to say truly that he achieved the results at which he

aimed.

It is clear that the war which the joint efforts of these great

personages brought into existence was a monstrous birth, and that it

filled those who were responsible for it with dismay, only a degree

less than it shocked other people. For proof of this, it is

unnecessary to look further than the miscalculations of the political

kind which became recognised for such within a few weeks after war was

declared.

[1] July 1911.

[2] Prussian policy appears to be modelled upon the human body. Just

as man is endowed with a duality of certain organs--eyes, nostrils,

lungs, kidneys, etc.--so Prussian policy appears to proceed upon the

principle of a double diplomatic representation, two separate Foreign

Office departments, etc., etc. It is no doubt an excellent plan to

have a second string to your bow; but it is not yet clear how far this

can be carried with advantage in delicate negotiations without

destroying confidence in your sincerity.

[3] A labour leader, highly impressed by the spectacle, gave a vivid

description of an equestrian parade through the streets of Berlin after

the declaration of war--the Kaiser in helmet of gold, seated on his

white charger, frowning terribly, in a kind of immobility, as if his

features had been frozen into this dramatically appropriate

expression--following behind him in a carriage the Crown Prince and

Princess, all vivacity and smiles, and bows to this side and the

other--a remarkable contrast!

It is interesting to contrast the ornate and flamboyant being whom we

know as Kaiser Wilhelm the Second with Carlyle's famous description of

the great Frederick:--

"A highly interesting lean little old man, of alert though slightly

stooping figure; whose name among strangers was King Friedrich the

Second, or Frederick the Great of Prussia, and at home among the common

people, who much loved and esteemed him, was _Vater Fritz_,--Father

Fred,--a name of familiarity which had not bred contempt in that

instance. He is a King every inch of him, though without the trappings

of a King. Presents himself in a Spartan simplicity of vesture; no

crown but an old military cocked-hat,--generally old, or trampled and

kneaded into absolute _softness_, if new;--no sceptre but one like

Agamemnon's, a walking-stick cut from the woods, which serves also as a

riding-stick (with which he hits the horse 'between the ears' say

authors);--and for royal robes, a mere soldier's blue coat with red

facings, coat likely to be old, and sure to have a good deal of Spanish

snuff on the breast of it; rest of the apparel dim, unobtrusive in

colour or cut, ending in high over-knee military boots, which may be

brushed (and, I hope, kept soft with an underhand suspicion of oil),

but are not permitted to be blackened or varnished; Day and Martin with

their soot-pots forbidden to approach.

"The man is not of godlike physiognomy, any more than of imposing

stature or costume; close-shut mouth with thin lips, prominent jaws and

nose, receding brow, by no means of Olympian height; head, however, is

of long form, and has superlative gray eyes in it. Not what is called

a beautiful man; nor yet, by all appearance, what is called a happy.

On the contrary, the face bears evidence of many sorrows, as they are

termed, of much hard labour done in this world; and seems to anticipate

nothing but more still coming. Quiet stoicism, capable enough of what

joy there were, but not expecting any worth mention; great unconscious

and some conscious pride, well tempered with a cheery mockery of

humour,--are written on that old face; which carries its chin well

forward, in spite of the slight stoop about the neck; snuffy nose

rather flung into the air under its old cocked hat,--like an old snuffy

lion on the watch; and such a pair of eyes as no man or lion or lynx of

that century bore elsewhere, according to all the testimony we

have."--Carlyle, _History of Frederick the Great_, Bk. I. chap. i.

[4] A friend who has been kind enough to read the proofs of this volume

takes exception to the rating of Antichrist. The Devil, he maintains,

is not at all a clever or profound spirit, though he is exceedingly

industrious. The conception of him in the old Mystery Plays, where he

figures as a kind of butt, whose elaborate and painfully constructed

schemes are continually being upset owing to some ridiculous oversight,

or by some trivial accident, is the true Satan; the Miltonic idea is a

poetical myth, not in the least borne out by human experience.

{53}

CHAPTER VI

GERMAN MISCALCULATIONS

In the world's play-house there are a number of prominent and

well-placed seats, which the instinct of veneration among mankind

insists on reserving for Super-men; and as mankind is never content

unless the seats of the super-men are well filled, 'the Management'--in

other words, the press, the publicists, and other manipulators of

opinion--have to do the best they can to find super-men to sit in them.

When that is impossible, it is customary to burnish up, fig out, and

pass off various colourable substitutes whom it is thought, may be

trusted to comport themselves with propriety until the curtain falls.

But those resplendent creatures whom we know so well by sight and fame,

and upon whom all eyes and opera-glasses are directed during the

_entr'-actes_, are for the most part not super-men at all, but merely

what, in the slang of the box-office, is known as 'paper.' Indeed

there have been long periods, even generations, during which the

supposed super-men have been wholly 'paper.'

Of course so long as the super-men substitutes have only to walk to

their places, to bow, smile, frown, overawe, and be admired, everything

goes safely enough. The audience is satisfied and the {54}

'management' rubs its hands. But if anything has to be done beyond

this parade business, if the unexpected happens, if, for instance,

there is an alarm of fire--in which case the example set by the

super-creatures might be of inestimable assistance--the 'paper' element

is certain to crumple up, according to the laws of its nature, being

after all but dried pulp. Something of this kind appears to have

happened in various great countries during the weeks which immediately

preceded and followed the outbreak of war, and in none was the

crumpling up of the supermen substitutes more noticeable than in

Germany.

The thoroughness of the German race is no empty boast. All the world

knows as much by experience in peace as well as war. Consequently,

people had said to themselves: "However it may be with other nations,

in Germany at all events the strings of foreign policy are firmly held

in giant fingers." But as day succeeded day, unmasking one

miscalculation after another, it became clear that there must have been

at least as much 'paper' in the political high places of Germany as

elsewhere.

Clearly, although this war was made in Germany, it did not at all

follow the course which had been charted for it in the official

forecasts. For the German bureaucracy and general staff had laid their

plans to crush France at the first onset--to crush her till the bones

stuck out through her skin. And they had reckoned to out-general

Russia and roll back her multitudes, as yet unorganised--so at least it

was conceived--in wave upon wave of encroaching defeat.

Having achieved these aims before the fall of the leaf, Germany would

have gained thereby another {55} decade for the undisturbed development

of wealth and world-power. Under Prussian direction the power of

Austria would then be consolidated within her own dominions and

throughout the Balkan Peninsula. At the end of this interval of

vigorous recuperation, or possibly earlier, Germany would attack

England, and England would fall an easy prey. For having stood aside

from the former struggle she would be without allies. Her name would

stink in the nostrils of Russia and France; and indeed to the whole

world she would be recognised for what she was--a decadent and coward

nation. Even her own children would blush for her dishonour.

That these were the main lines of the German forecast no man can doubt,

who has watched and studied the development of events; and although it

is as yet too early days to make sure that nothing of all this vast

conception will ever be realised, much of it--the time-table at all

events--has certainly miscarried for good and all.

[Sidenote: THE TIME-TABLE MISCARRIES]

According to German calculations England would stand aside; but England

took part. Italy would help her allies; but Italy refused. Servia was

a thing of naught; but Servia destroyed several army corps. Belgium

would not count; and yet Belgium by her exertions counted, if for

nothing more, for the loss of eight precious days, while by her

sufferings she mobilised against the aggressor the condemnation of the

whole world.

The Germans reckoned that the army of France was terrible only upon

paper. Forty-five years of corrupt government and political peculation

must, according to their calculations, have paralysed the {56} general

staff and betrayed the national spirit. The sums voted for equipment,

arms, and ammunition must assuredly have been spirited away, as under

The Third Empire, into the pockets of ministers, senators, deputies,

and contractors. The results of this régime would become apparent, as

they had done in 1870, only in the present case sooner.

War was declared by the Third Napoleon at mid-July, by William the

Second not until August 1; but Sedan or its equivalent would occur,

nevertheless, in the first days of September, in 1914 as in 1870. In

the former contest Paris fell at the end of six months; in this one,

with the aid of howitzers, it would fall at the end of six weeks.

Unfortunately for this confident prediction, whatever may have been the

deficiency in the French supplies, however dangerous the consequent

hitches in mobilisation, things fell out quite differently. The spirit

of the people of France, and the devotion of her soldiers, survived the

misfeasances of the politicians, supposing indeed that such crimes had

actually been committed.

It was a feature of Bismarck's diplomacy that he put a high value upon

the good opinion of the world, and took the greatest pains to avoid its

condemnation. In 1870, as we now know, he schemed successfully, to

lure the government of Napoleon the Third into a declaration of war,

thereby saddling the French government with the odium which attaches to

peace-breakers.[1] But in the case of the present war, {57} which, as

it out-Bismarcked Bismarck in deliberate aggressiveness, stood all the

more in need of a tactful introduction to the outside world, the

precautions of that astute statesman were neglected or despised. From

the beginning all neutral nations were resentful of German procedure,

and after the devastation of Belgium and the destruction of Louvain,

the spacious morality of the Young Turks alone was equal to the

profession of friendship and admiration.

[Sidenote: CRUELTIES IN BELGIUM]

The objects which Germany sought to gain by the cruelties perpetrated,

under orders, by her soldiers in Belgium and Northern France are clear

enough. These objects were certainly of considerable value in a

military as well as in a political sense. One wonders, however, if

even Germany herself now considers them to have been worth the

abhorrence and disgust which they have earned for her throughout the

civilised world.

In nothing is the sham super-man more easily detected than in the

confidence and self-complacency with which he pounces upon the

immediate small advantage, regardless of the penalty he will have to

pay in the future. By spreading death and devastation broadcast in

Belgium the Germans hoped to attain three things, and it is not

impossible that they have succeeded in attaining them all. They sought

to secure their communications by putting the fear of death, and worse

than death, into the hearts of the civil population. They sought to

send the countryside fleeing terror-stricken before their advance,

choking and cumbering the highways; than which nothing is ever more

hampering to the operations of an army in retreat, or more depressing

to its spirits. But chiefly they desired to set a ruthless

object-lesson before the {58} eyes of Holland, in order to show her the

consequences of resistance; so that when it came to her turn to answer

a summons to surrender she might have the good sense not to make a

fuss. They desired in their dully-calculating, official minds that

Holland might never forget the clouds of smoke, from burning villages

and homesteads, which the August breezes carried far across her

frontiers; the sights of horror, the tales of suffering and ruin which

tens of thousands of starved, forlorn, and hurrying fugitives brought

with them when they came seeking sanctuary in her territories. But if

the Germans gained all this, and even if they gained in addition the

loving admiration of the Young Turks, was it worth while to purchase

these advantages at such a price? It seems a poor bargain to save your

communications, if thereby you lose the good opinion of the whole world.

What is of most interest to ourselves, however, in the long list of

miscalculations, is the confidence of Germany that Britain would remain

neutral. For a variety of reasons which satisfied the able bureaucrats

at Berlin, it was apparently taken for granted by them that we were

determined to stand out; and indeed that we were in no position to come

in even if we would. We conjecture that the reports of German

ambassadors, councillors, consuls, and secret service agents must have

been very certain and unanimous in this prediction.

[Illustration: GERMAN VIEW OF ENGLAND]

According to the German theory, the British race, at home and abroad,

was wholly immersed in gain, and in a kind of pseudo-philanthropy--in

making money, and in paying blackmail to the working-classes in order

to be allowed to go on making money. {59} Our social legislation and

our 'People's Budgets' were regarded in Germany with contempt, as sops

and shams, wanting in thoroughness and tainted with hypocrisy.

English politicians, acting upon the advice of obliging financiers, had

been engaged during recent years (so grossly was the situation

misjudged by our neighbours) in imposing taxation which hit the trader,

manufacturer, and country-gentleman as hard as possible; which also hit

the working-class hard, though indirectly; but which left holes through

which the financiers themselves--by virtue of their international

connections and affiliations--could glide easily into comparative

immunity.

From these faulty premisses, Germans concluded that Britain was held in

leading-strings by certain sentimentalists who wanted vaguely to do

good; and that these sentimentalists, again, were helped and guided by

certain money-lenders and exploiters, who were all very much in favour

of paying ransom out of other people's pockets. A nation which had

come to this pass would be ready enough to sacrifice future

interests--being blind to them--for the comforts of a present peace.

The Governments of the United Kingdom and the Dominions were largely

influenced--so it was believed at Berlin--by crooks and cranks of

various sorts, by speculators and 'speculatists,'[2] many of them of

foreign origin or descent--who preached day in and day out the doctrine

that war was an anachronism, _vieux jeu_, even an impossibility in the

present situation of the world.

[2] 'Speculatists' was a term used by contemporary American writers to

describe the eloquent theorists who played so large a part in the

French Revolution.

{60}

The British Government appeared to treat these materially-minded

visionaries with the highest favour. Their advice was constantly

sought; they were recipients of the confidences of Ministers; they

played the part of Lords Bountiful to the party organisations; they

were loaded with titles, if not with honour. Their abhorrence of

militarism knew no bounds, and to a large extent it seemed to German,

and even to English eyes, as if they carried the Cabinet, the

party-machine, and the press along with them.

'Militarism,' as used by these enthusiasts, was a comprehensive term.

It covered with ridicule and disrepute even such things as preparation

for the defence of the national existence. International law was

solemnly recommended as a safer defence than battleships.

Better certainly, they allowed, if militarism could be rooted out in

all countries; but at any rate England, the land of their birth or

adoption, must be saved from the contamination of this brutalising

idea. In their anxiety to discredit Continental exemplars they even

went so far as to evolve an ingenious theory, that foreign nations

which followed in the paths of militarism, did so at serious loss to

themselves, but with wholly innocent intentions. More especially, they

insisted, was this true in the case of Germany.

The Liberal party appeared to listen to these opinions with respect;

Radicals hailed them with enthusiasm; while the Labour party was at one

time so much impressed, as to propose through some of its more

progressive spirits that, in the exceedingly unlikely event of a German

landing, working-men {61} should continue steadily at their usual

labours and pay no heed to the military operations of the invaders.

In Berlin, apparently, all this respect and enthusiasm for pacifism,

together with the concrete proposals for putting its principles into

practice, were taken at their face value. There at any rate it was

confidently believed that the speculators and the 'speculatists' had

succeeded in changing or erasing the spots of the English leopard.

[Sidenote: ERRORS OF INFERENCE]

But in order to arrive at such a conclusion as this the able German

bureaucrats must have understood very little, one would think, of human

nature in general, and of British human nature in particular. Clearly

they built more hopes on our supposed conversion to pacifism than the

foundations would stand. They were right, of course, in counting it a

benefit to themselves that we were unprepared and unsuspicious of

attack; that we had pared down our exiguous army and stinted our navy

somewhat beyond the limits of prudence. They were foolish, however,

not to perceive that if the British people found themselves confronted

with the choice, between a war which they believed to be righteous, and

a peace which they saw clearly would not only be wounding to their own

honour but ruinous to their security, all their fine abstract

convictions would go by the board; that party distinctions would then

for the time being disappear, and the speculators and the

'speculatists' would be interned in the nethermost pit of national

distrust.... In so far, therefore, as the Germans reckoned on our

unpreparedness they were wise; but in counting upon British neutrality

they were singularly wide of the mark.

{62}

One imagines that among the idealists of Berlin there must surely have

been a few sceptics who did not altogether credit this wholesale

conversion and quakerisation of the British race. But for these

doubters, if indeed they existed, there were other considerations of a

more practical kind which seemed to indicate that Britain must

certainly stand aside.

The first and most important of these was the imminence of civil war in

Ireland. If Prince Lichnowsky and Baron von Kuhlmann reported that

this had become inevitable, small blame to their perspicacity! For in

this their judgment only tallied with that of most people in the United

Kingdom who had any knowledge of the true facts.

In March an incident occurred among the troops stationed in Ireland

which must have given comfort at Berlin, even in greater measure than

it caused disquiet at home. For it showed in a vivid flash the

intrinsic dangers of the Irish situation, and the tension, almost to

breaking-point, which existed between the civil authorities and the

fighting services.

It also showed, what in the circumstances must have been peculiarly

reassuring to the German Government, that our Navy and Army were under

the charge of Ministers whose judgments were apt to be led captive by

their tempers. Although the Secretary of State for War did not remain

in office for many days to encourage the hearts of the general staff at

Berlin, his important post was never filled. It was only occupied and

kept warm by the Prime Minister, whose labours and

responsibilities--according to the notions of the Germans, who are a

painstaking and thorough people--were already enough for one man to

undertake. Moreover, the First {63} Lord of the Admiralty had not

resigned; and it was perhaps natural, looking at what had just

happened, to conclude that he would be wholly incapable of the sound

and swift decision by which a few months later he was destined to atone

for his recent blunder.

[Sidenote: THE DUBLIN RIOT]

Moreover, although the Curragh incident, as it was called, had been

patched over in a sort of way, the danger of civil war in Ireland had

not diminished in the least by Midsummer. Indeed it had sensibly

increased. During the interval large quantities of arms and ammunition

had been imported by Ulstermen in defiance of the Government, and

Nationalists were eagerly engaged in emulating their example. The

emergency conference of the leaders of parties which the King, acting

upon the desperate advice of his Ministers, had called together at

Buckingham Palace ended in complete failure.

On Monday the 27th of July readers of the morning newspapers, looking

anxiously for news of the Servian reply to the Austrian ultimatum,

found their eyes distracted by even blacker headlines, which announced

that a Scots regiment had fired on a Dublin mob.

How the bureaucrats of Berlin must have rubbed their hands and admired

their own prescience! Civil war in Ireland had actually begun, and in

the very nick of time! And this occurrence, no less dramatic than

opportune, was a triumph not merely for German foresight but for German

contrivance--like a good many other things, indeed, which have taken

place of late. When the voyage of the good ship _Fanny_, which in

April carried arms to the coast of Antrim, comes to be written, and

that of the anonymous yacht which sailed from German waters,

transhipped its {64} cargo in the channel, whence it was safely

conveyed by another craft to Dublin Bay to kindle this blaze in

July--when these narratives are set out by some future historian, as

they deserve to be, but not until then, it will be known how zealously,

benevolently, and impartially our loyal and kindly Teuton cousins

forwarded and fomented the quarrel between Covenanter and Nationalist.

What the German bureaucrats, however, with all their foresight,

apparently did not in the least foresee, was that the wound which they

had intentionally done so much to keep open, they would speedily be

helping unintentionally to heal.

With regard to South Africa, German miscalculation and intrigue pursued

a somewhat similar course, though with little better results. It was

assumed that South Africa, having been fully incorporated in the Empire

as a self-governing unit only twelve years earlier, and as the result

of a prolonged and sanguinary war, must necessarily be bent on severing

the British connection at the earliest opportunity. The Dutch, like

the frogs in the fable, were imagined to be only awaiting a favourable

moment to exchange the tyranny of King Log for the benevolent rule of

King Stork.

In these forecasts, however, various considerations were overlooked.

In the first place, the methods of incorporation pursued by the British

in South Africa were as nearly as possible the opposite of those

adopted by Prussia in Poland, in Schleswig-Holstein, and in

Alsace-Lorraine. In many quarters there were doubtless bitter memories

among the Dutch, and in some others disappointed ambition still ached;

{65} but these forces were not enough to plunge into serious civil war

two races which, after nearly a century of strife and division, had but

a few years before entered into a solemn and voluntary covenant to make

a firm union, and dwell henceforth in peace one with another. What

object could there be for Dutchmen to rise in rebellion against a

government, which consisted almost exclusively of Dutch statesmen, and

which had been put in office and was kept there by the popular vote?

[Sidenote: MISTAKES AS TO DUTCH]

What German intrigue and bribery could do it did. But Dutchmen whose

recollections went back so far as twenty years were little likely to

place excessive confidence in the incitements and professions of

Berlin. They remembered with what busy intrigues Germany had in former

times encouraged their ambitions, with what a rich bribery of promises

she had urged them on to war, with what cold indifference, when war

arose, she had left them to their fate. They also remembered how, when

their aged President, an exiled and broken-hearted man, sought an

interview with the great sovereign whose consideration for him in his

more prosperous days had never lacked for warmth, he received for an

answer, that Berlin was no place for people who had been beaten to come

whining, and was turned from the door.

In India, as in South Africa, Germany entertained confident hopes of a

successful rising. Had not the Crown Prince, a shrewd judge, visited

there a few years earlier and formed his own estimate of the situation?

Was there not a widely spread network of sedition covering the whole of

our Eastern Empire, an incendiary press, and orators who openly

counselled {66} violence and preached rebellion? Had not riots been

increasing rapidly in gravity and number? Had not assassins been

actively pursuing their trade? Had not a ship-load of Indians just

been refused admission to Canada, thereby causing a not unnatural

outburst of indignation?

How far German statesmen had merely foreseen these things, how far they

had actually contrived them, we are as yet in ignorance; but judging by

what has happened in other places--in Ireland, South Africa, Belgium,

and France--it would surprise no one to learn that the bombs which were

thrown at the Viceroy and his wife with tragic consequences owed

something to German teaching. It is unlikely that German emissaries

had been less active in fomenting unrest in India than elsewhere among

the subjects of nations with which they were ostensibly at peace; while

the fact that the Crown Prince had but recently enjoyed the hospitality

of the Viceregal Court was only a sentimental consideration unworthy of

the attention of super-men.

Moreover, it had for long been abundantly clear, on _a priori_ grounds,

to thinkers like Treitschke and Bernhardi that India was already ripe

for rebellion on a grand scale. There are but two things which affect

the Indian mind with awe and submission--a sublime philosophy and a

genius for war. The English had never been philosophers, and they had

ceased to be warriors. How, then, could a race which worshipped only

soldiers and sages be expected to reverence and obey a garrison of

clerks and shopkeepers? A war between England and Germany would

provide an opportunity for making an end for ever of the British Raj.

{67}

[Sidenote: MISTAKES AS TO DOMINIONS]

The self-governing Dominions were believed to be affected with the same

decadent spirit and fantastic illusions as their Mother Country; only

with them these cankers had spread more widely, were more logically

followed out in practice, and less tempered and restrained by

aristocratic tradition. Their eloquent outpourings of devotion and

cohesion were in reality quite valueless; merely what in their own

slang is known as 'hot air.' They hated militarism in theory and

practice, and they loved making money with at least an equal fervour.

Consequently, it was absurd to suppose that their professions of

loyalty would stand the strain of a war, by which not only their

national exchequers, but the whole mass of the people must inevitably

be impoverished, in which the manhood of the Dominions would be called

on for military service, and their defenceless territories placed in

danger of invasion.

It was incredible to the wise men at Berlin that the timid but clear

minds of English Statesmen had not appreciated these obvious facts.

War, therefore, would be avoided as long as possible. And when at a

later date, war was forced by Germany upon the pusillanimous islanders,

the Dominions would immediately discern various highly moral pleas for

standing aloof. Germany, honouring these pleas for the time being with

a mock respect, would defer devouring the Dominions until she had

digested the more serious meal.

It will be seen from all this how good the grounds were on which the

best-informed and most efficient bureaucracy in the world decided that

the British Empire would remain neutral in the present war. {68}

Looked at from the strictly intellectual standpoint, the reasons which

satisfied German Statesmen with regard to Britain's neutrality were

overwhelming, and might well have convinced others, of a similar

outlook and training, who had no personal interest whatsoever in coming

to one conclusion rather than another.

None the less the judgment of the Kaiser and his Ministers was not only

bad, but inexcusably bad. We expect more from statesmen than that they

should arrive at logical conclusions. Logic in such cases is nothing;

all that matters is to be right; but unless instinct rules and reason

serves, right judgment will rarely be arrived at in such matters as

these. If a man cannot feel as well as reason, if he cannot gauge the

forces which are at work among the nations by some kind of

second-sight, he has no title to set up his bills as a statesman. It

is incredible that Lincoln, Cavour, or Bismarck would ever have

blundered into such a war as this, under the delusion that Britain

could remain neutral even if she would. Nor would any of these three

have been so far out in his reckoning as to believe, that the immediate

effect of such a war, if Britain joined in it, would be the disruption

of her empire. They might have calculated that in the event of the war

being prolonged and disastrous to England, disintegration would in the

end come about; but without stopping to reason the matter out, they

would have known by instinct, that the first effect produced by such a

war would be a consolidation and knitting together of the loose

Imperial fabric, and a suspension, or at least a diminution, of

internal differences.

[1] British public opinion in regard to that war was divided roughly

according to party lines, the Conservatives favouring France on

sentimental grounds, the Liberals favouring Germany as a

highly-educated, peace-loving people who had been wantonly attacked.

{69}

CHAPTER VII

INTERNATIONAL ILL-WILL

In the foregoing pages an attempt has been made to consider the series

of events which immediately preceded the recent outbreak of war. But

the most complete account of moves and counter-moves, and of all the

pretexts, arguments, demands, and appeals which were put forward by the

various governments concerned, with the object of forcing on,

justifying, circumscribing, or preventing the present struggle, can

never give us the true explanation of why it occurred. For this we

must look much further back than Midsummer last, and at other things

besides the correspondence between Foreign Ministers and Ambassadors.

Nobody in his senses believes that Europe is at present in a convulsion

because the heir-presumptive to the throne of Austria was murdered at

Serajevo on the 28th of June. This event was tragic and deplorable,

but it was merely a spark--one of that cloud of sparks which is always

issuing from the chimney-stack of the European furnace. This one by

ill-luck happened to fall upon a heap of combustibles, and set it in a

blaze.

Great events, as the Greeks discovered several thousand years ago, do

not spring from small causes, {70} though more often than not they have

some trivial beginning. How came it that so much inflammable material

was lying ready to catch fire?

To answer this question truthfully we need more knowledge of men and

things than is given in those books, of varying hue, which the

Chancelleries of Europe have published to explain their causes of

action. The official sources provide much valuable information; but

they will never explain to us why public opinion in Germany, ever since

the beginning of the present century, has been inflamed with hatred

against this country. Nor will they ever give us any clear idea as to

what extent, and where, the practical aims and policies of that nation

and our own were in conflict.

According to the state papers, it would appear that Russia was drawn

into this war because of Servia, and France because of Russia, and

Belgium because of France, and we ourselves because of Belgium; but it

may well be doubted if even the first of this row of ninepins would

have been allowed to fall, had it not been for the feelings which the

German people and their rulers entertained towards Britain.

It is always hard for a man to believe in the sincerity, friendliness,

and peaceful intentions of one against whom he is himself engaged in

plotting an injury. German distrust of England was based upon the

surest of all foundations--upon her own fixed and envious determination

to overthrow our empire and rob us of our property. Her own mind being

filled with this ambition, how could she be otherwise than incredulous

of our expressions of goodwill? How could she conceive that we were so

blind as not to have penetrated her thoughts, so deaf as not to have

heard the threats which her public characters {71} were proclaiming so

openly? Consequently when British Statesmen uttered amiable assurances

they were judged guilty of a treacherous dissimulation.... One can

only shrug one's shoulders, marvelling at the nightmares and suspicions

which a bad conscience is capable of producing even among intelligent

people.

[Sidenote: THE DANGER POINT]

It has been the fashion for half a century or more to talk of the

Balkans as the danger-point of European peace. In a sense this is

true. The crust is very thin in that region, and violent eruptions are

of common occurrence. But the real danger of upheaval comes, not so

much from the thinness of the crust, as from the violence of the

subterranean forces. Of these, by far the most formidable in recent

times have been the attitude of public opinion in Germany towards

England--the hatred of England which has been sedulously and

systematically inculcated among the people of all ranks--the suspicions

of our policy which have been sown broadcast--the envy of our position

in the world which has been instilled, without remission, by all and

sundry the agencies and individuals subject to the orders and

inspiration of government. An obsession has been created, by these

means, which has distorted the whole field of German vision. National

ill-will accordingly has refused to yield to any persuasion. Like its

contrary, the passion of love, it has burned all the more fiercely,

being unrequited.

The fact which it is necessary to face, fairly and squarely, is that we

are fighting the whole German people. We may blame, and blame justly,

the Prussian junkers, the German bureaucracy, the Kaiser himself, for

having desired this war, schemed {72} for it, set the match to it by

intention or through a blunder; but to regard it as a Kaiser's war, or

a junkers' war, or a bureaucrats' war is merely to deceive ourselves.

It is a people's war if ever there was one. It could not have been

more a people's war than it is, even if Germany had been a democracy

like France or England.

The Kaiser, as regards this matter, is the mirror of his people. The

Army and the Navy are his trusted servants against whom not a word will

be believed. The wisdom of the bureaucracy is unquestioned. In

matters of faith the zealous eloquence of the learned men is wholly

approved. All classes are as one in devotion, and are moved by the

same spirit of self-sacrifice. Hardly a murmur of criticism has been

heard, even from the multitudes who at other times march under the red

flag of Socialism.

Although a German panic with regard to Russia may have been the

proximate occasion of this war, the force which most sustains it in its

course is German hatred of England. We must recognise this fact with

candour, however painful it may be. And we must also note that, during

the past nine months, the feelings against England have undergone a

change by no means for the better.

At the beginning the German people, if we may judge from published

utterances, were convinced that the war had been engineered by Russia,

and that England had meanly joined in it, because she saw her chance of

crushing a dangerous and envied rival.

Two months later, however, it was equally clear that the German people

were persuaded--Heaven {73} knows how or why!--that the war had been

engineered by England, who was using France and Russia as her tools.

Behind Russia, France, Belgium, Servia, and Japan--according to this

view--stood Britain--perfidious throughout the ages--guiding her

puppets with indefatigable skill to the destruction of German trade,

colonies, navy, and world-power.

[Sidenote: FANTASTIC ERRORS]

Confiding Germany, in spite of all her unremitting abuse of Britain,

had apparently, for some reason, really believed her to be a friend and

a fellow Teuton! Could any treachery have been blacker than our own in

outraging these family affections? And for Britain to support the Slav

and the Celt against the Teuton, was judged to be the worst treachery

of all--race treachery--especially by the Prussians, who, having

forgotten that they themselves are half Slavs, seemed also to have

forgotten that the British are largely Celts.

Every Englishman, whether he be an admirer of Sir Edward Grey's

administration of Foreign Affairs or not, knows these dark suspicions

to be merely nonsense. He knows this as one of the common certainties

of existence--just as he knows that ginger is hot i' the mouth. Every

Englishman knows that Sir Edward Grey, his colleagues, his advisers,

his supporters in Parliament and out of it, and the whole British race

throughout the world, hated the idea of war, and would have done--and

in fact did, so far as in them lay--everything they could think of to

avert it. Yet the German people do not at present believe a single

word of this; and there must be some reason for their disbelief as for

other things.

Unfortunately the nations of the world never {74} see one another face

to face. They carry on their intercourse, friendly and otherwise, by

high-angle fire, from hidden batteries of journalistic howitzers.

Sometimes the projectiles which they exchange are charged with ideal

hate which explodes and kills; at others with ideal love and admiration

which dissolve in golden showers, delightful and amazing to behold.

But always the gunners are invisible to each other, and the ideal love

and admiration are often as far removed from the real merits of their

objective as the ideal hate.

That there was no excuse, beyond mere fancy on Germany's part, for her

distrust of British policy, no one, unless he were wholly ignorant of

the facts, would dream of maintaining. During the years which have

passed since 1870, our intentions have very rarely been unfriendly.

Still more rarely, however, have we ever shown any real comprehension

of the German point of view. Never have we made our policy clear. The

last is hardly to be wondered at, seeing that we had not ourselves

taken the pains to understand it.

On occasions, it is true, we have been effusive, and have somewhat

overstepped the limits of dignity, plunging into a gushing

sentimentality, or else wheedling and coaxing, with some material

object--the abatement of naval expenditure, for example--showing very

plainly through our blandishments. And as our methods at these times

have been lacking in self-respect, it is not wonderful if they have

earned little or no respect from others. Our protestations that we

were friends, our babble about blood-relationship, were suspected to

have their origin in timidity; our appeals for restriction of

armaments, {75} to our aversion from personal sacrifice and our senile

penuriousness.

[Sidenote: FAULTS OF ENGLISH METHODS]

Until lately these lapses into excessive amiability, it must be

allowed, were not very frequent. The main excuse for German suspicion

is to be found elsewhere--in the dilatoriness of our foreign policy--in

its inability to make up its mind--in its changeability after its mind

might have been supposed made up--in its vagueness with regard to the

nature of our obligations towards other powers--whom we would support,

and to what extent, and upon what pleas.

Irritation on the part of Germany would have been natural in these

circumstances, even if she had not been in the mood to suspect dark

motives in the background. From the days of Lord Granville to those of

Sir Edward Grey, we had been dealing with a neighbour who, whatever her

failings might be, was essentially businesslike in her methods. We, on

the other hand, continued to exhibit many of those faults which are

most ill-regarded by business men. We would not say clearly what

regions came within our sphere of influence. We would not say clearly

where Germany might go and where we should object to her going; but

wherever she went, we were apt after the event to grumble and make

trouble.

The delay and indecision which marked Lord Granville's dealings with

Bismarck over the partition of Africa were both bad manners in the

international sense, and bad policy. The neglect of Sir Edward Grey,

after Agadir, to make clear to his fellow-countrymen, and to the world

at large, the nature and extent of our obligations to France, was bad

business. Next {76} to the British people and our present allies,

Germany had the best reason to complain of this procedure, or rather of

this failure to proceed.

The blame for this unfortunate record rests mainly upon our political

system, rather than on individuals. We cannot enjoy the benefits of

the most highly developed party system in the world, without losing by

it in various directions. A change of Government, actual or impending,

has more often been the cause of procrastination and uncertainty than

change in the mind of the Foreign Minister. There are people who

assure us that this must always be so, that it is one of the inherent

weaknesses of party government, and even of democracy itself. This is

not altogether true. It is true, however, that whereas statesmen may

be reticent and keep their own counsel under an autocracy, they are

bound to be frank, and simple, and outspoken as to their aims, where

their power is drawn directly from popular support.

[Sidenote: BAD DIPLOMACY]

The criticism against British foreign policy for upwards of a century,

is that it has aimed at managing our international relations on a

system of hoodwinking the people, which is altogether incompatible with

the nature of our institutions. The evils which have resulted from

this mistake are not confined to ourselves, but have reacted abroad.

"With whom," we can imagine some perplexed foreign Chancellor asking

himself--"with whom does power really rest in England? With the

Government or with the people? With which of these am I to deal? To

which must I address myself? As regards France there is little

difficulty, for her policy is national, and agreed on all hands. But

in England, so far as we can judge, the people have no idea of {77}

being dragged under any circumstances into a European war; while on the

other hand, the Government is obviously drifting, consciously or

unconsciously, into continental relations which, in certain events, can

lead to no other result...." Nor is it surprising that under these

conditions German diplomacy should have directed itself of late, with

much industry, to the cultivation of public opinion in this country,

and should at times have treated our Government with scant respect.

The fact is that the two nations, which had most to gain by

clear-sighted and tactful foreign policy, were perhaps of all nations

in the world the least well served in that particular. English

relations with Germany have for many years past been more mismanaged

than anything except German relations with England. In their mutual

diplomacy the fingers of both nations have been all thumbs.

It is not to be wondered at that two characters so antagonistic in

their natures and methods as English and German foreign policy should

have come to regard one another as impossible. The aggressive

personage who does know his own mind, and the vague, supercilious

personage who does not, have only one point in common--that they

understand and care very little about the feelings of other people.

But although this is a point in common, it is anything but a point of

agreement.[1]

{78} The causes of what has happened will never be clear to us unless

we can arrive at some understanding of the ideas, aspirations, and

dreams which have filled the minds of the German people and our own

during recent years. On logical grounds we must consider the case of

Germany first, for the reason that all the warmth of enmity has

proceeded from her side, and, until recent events suddenly aroused the

Old Adam in us, the uncharitable sentiments of our neighbours were not

at all cordially reciprocated over here.

As in romantic drama, according to the cynics, there is usually one who

loves and another who allows itself to be loved, so in this case there

was one who hated and another who allowed itself to be hated. The

British nation could not understand why the Germans were so angry and

suspicious. Nor would it trouble to understand. It was bored with the

whole subject; and even the irritation which it felt at having to find

huge sums annually for the Navy did not succeed in shaking it out of

its boredom.

[Sidenote: INTERNATIONAL MISCONCEPTIONS]

The most careful analysis of our thoughts about Germany would do little

to explain matters, because, as it happened, by far the greater part of

our thoughts was occupied with other things. Indeed we thought about

Germany as little as we could help thinking; and although we regretted

her annoyance, {79} our consciences absolved us from any responsibility

for it.

It was entirely different with Germany. For many years past she had

been more occupied with her grievances against Britain, and with the

complications and dangers which would beset any attempt at redress,

than with any other single subject; or indeed, so it would appear, with

all other subjects put together.

It is important to understand the German point of view, but it is

difficult. For at once we are faced with the eternal obstacle of the

foreigner, who sets out in search of a simple explanation. The mind of

the ordinary man, like that of the philosopher, is hypnotised by a

basic assumption of the One-ness of Things. He wants to trace all

trouble to a single root, as if it were a corn and could be extracted.

But in an enquiry like the present we are confronted at every turn with

the Two-ness of Things, or indeed with the Multiplicity of Things.

We have only to read a few pages of any German book on England to see

that the other party to the dispute is confronted with exactly the same

difficulty. We are amazed, and perhaps not altogether chagrined, to

discover that, to German eyes, British policy appears to be a thing of

the most rigorous consistency. It is deliberate, far-sighted, and

ruthless. It is pursued with constancy from decade to decade--nay from

century to century--never faltering, never retreating, but always going

forward under Whig and Tory, Liberal and Conservative alike, to the

same goal. And we of course know, if we know anything, that this

picture, though very flattering to our political instinct, is untrue.

{80}

If Englishmen know anything at all, they know that the foreign policy

of this country during the last fifty years--under Lord Beaconsfield,

and Mr. Gladstone, Lord Salisbury, and Mr. Asquith--has been at times a

series of the most eccentric wobbles and plunges, like a kite which is

drawn at the wrong angle to the wind. Nay, even as regards our

participation in this very War--which in the German White Book is

asserted to have been preconceived and undertaken by us with a craft

and coolness worthy of Machiavelli himself--we can see from our own

White Paper that the final decision wavered this way and the other,

from day to day during the critical week, neither the Cabinet nor

public opinion being clear and unanimous as to the course which ought

to be pursued.

Vacillation in national policy usually appears to hostile observers in

the light of perfidy. And it must be admitted that there is good

excuse for the mistake, seeing that weakness in such high matters is

quite as likely to injure everybody concerned as wickedness itself.

Assuredly no sensible person who was required to make a defence of

British foreign policy, either during the century which has passed

since the battle of Waterloo, or in the much shorter period since the

death of Queen Victoria, would ever dream of doing so on the ground

that its guiding principles have been consistency and singleness of

purpose. These, indeed, are almost the last virtues he would think of

claiming for it. And yet these are the very qualities which foreign

nations are inclined to attribute to British statesmen, by way of

praise or blame. Our failures are apt to be overlooked by outside {81}

observers; our successes on the other hand are plain and memorable.

Other nations assume that because we have happened to achieve some

particular result, we must therefore have deliberately and patiently

set out to achieve it. Much more often this result has been due either

to pure good luck or else to some happy inspiration of the moment.

A wise apologist for our foreign policy would at once concede that it

has frequently been characterised by feebleness and indecision, and

almost always by a want of clear perception of the end in view; but he

could contend with justice that upon the whole, for upwards of a

century, it has meant well by other nations, and that accusations of

far-sighted duplicity are purely ridiculous.

Our own temptation on the other hand is to visualise a single, gross,

overbearing, and opinionated type of the Teuton species. We tend to

ignore important differences; and because German public opinion appears

to be unanimous in regard to the present War, we are apt to overlook

the fact that the love and admiration of the Bavarian and the Saxon for

the Prussian are probably some degrees less cordial than those which

the men of Kerry and Connemara entertain for the Belfast Covenanters.

And we incline also to forget, that though opinion in Germany in favour

of war became solid so soon as war was apprehended, and certainly

before it was declared, it is exceedingly unlikely, that even in

governing circles, there was an equal unanimity as to the procedure

which led up to the climax.

[Sidenote: THE TRIANGLE OF FORCES]

If it were really so, the case is unique in history, which shows us at

every other crisis of this sort always the same triangle of forces--a

War party, a Peace {82} party, and a Wait-and-See party; each of them

pulling vigorously in its own direction; each intriguing against, and

caballing with, the other two by turns; until at last the group, still

struggling, falls back on the side of safety or, as in the recent

instance, pitches over the edge of the precipice.

It would be very hard to persuade any student of history that something

of this sort was not occurring both in Vienna and Berlin during the

months of June and July 1914. While he would admit to more than a

suspicion that intelligences had been passing for a considerably longer

period--for a year at least[2]--between the War parties in these two

capitals, he would be inclined to take the view, that in the last stage

of all, the Berlin group went staggering to perdition, dragging after

it the Vienna group, which by that time was struggling feebly in the

opposite direction.

[Sidenote: LIMITS OF ENQUIRY]

When we come to consider the German case it is wise to bear in mind the

erroneous judgments which foreigners have passed upon ourselves. It is

probable that the One-ness of things which we discover in their actions

is to some extent an illusion, like that which they have discovered in

our own. Indeed it is a fruitless task to hunt for logic and

consistency in things which, in their nature, are neither logical nor

consistent. For most of us, who have but a limited range of German

books, state papers, journalism, and acquaintances to judge from, it

would be vain and foolish to pretend that in a chapter, or a volume, we

can lay bare the German attitude of {83} mind. The most we can hope to

do is to illuminate this complex subject at certain points; and these

for the most part are where the edges rub, and where German policy and

temperament have happened to come into conflict with our own.

[1] If we may offer a very homely simile--German policy may be compared

to a rude heavy fellow, who comes shoving his way into a crowded bus,

snorting aggressively, treading on everybody's corns, poking his

umbrella into people's eyes, and finally plumping himself down without

a word of regret or apology, between the two meekest and most

helpless-looking of the passengers.

British diplomacy, on the other hand, bears a close resemblance to a

nuisance, equally well known to the bus public, and no less dreaded.

It reminds us constantly of that dawdling, disobliging female who never

can make up her mind, till the bus has actually started, whether she

wants to go to Shepherd's Bush or the Mansion House. If she has taken

a seat she insists on stopping the conveyance in order to get out. If

she has remained gaping on the pavement she hails it in order to get

in. She cares nothing about the inconvenience caused thereby to other

passengers, who do know whither they want to be conveyed, and desire to

arrive at their destination as quickly as possible.

[2] We have recently learned from Signor Giolitti, ex-Premier of Italy,

that in August 1913 the Foreign Minister, the late Marquis di San

Giuliano, was sounded by Austria-Hungary as to whether he would join in

an attack upon Servia.

PART II

THE SPIRIT OF GERMAN POLICY

CHRISTIAN: Met you with nothing else in that Valley?

FAITHFUL: Yes, I met with _Shame_. But of all the Men I met with in my

Pilgrimage, he I think bears the wrong name: ... this boldfaced

_Shame_, would never have done.

CHRISTIAN: Why, what did he say to you?

FAITHFUL: What! Why he objected against Religion itself; he said it

was a pitiful low sneaking business for a Man to mind Religion; he said

that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing, and that for a Man to

watch over his words and ways, so as to tye up himself from that

hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom

themselves unto, would make me the Ridicule of the times.

He objected also, that but few of the Mighty, Rich, or Wise, were ever

of my opinion; nor any of them, neither, before they were perswaded to

be Fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all,

_for no body else knows what_.

Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also about a great many more

things than here I relate; as, that it was a _shame_ ... to ask my

neighbour forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I

had taken from any. He said also that Religion made a man grow strange

to the great because of a few vices (which he called by finer names)....

_The Pilgrim's Progress_.

{87}

CHAPTER I

THE BISMARCKIAN EPOCH

All nations dream--some more than others; while some are more ready

than others to follow their dreams into action. Nor does the

prevalence, or even the intensity, of these national dreams seem to

bear any fixed relation to the strength of will which seeks to turn

them into achievement.

After 1789 there was a great deal of dreaming among the nations of

Europe. At the beginning of it all was revolutionary France, who

dreamed of offering freedom to all mankind. A few years later, an

altogether different France was dreaming furiously of glory for her own

arms. In the end it was still France who dreamed; and this time she

sought to impose the blessings of peace, order, and uniformity upon the

whole world. Her first dream was realised in part, the second wholly;

but the third ended in ruin.

Following upon this momentous failure came a short period when the

exhausted nations slept much too soundly to dream dreams. During this

epoch Europe was parcelled out artificially, like a patch-work quilt,

by practical and unimaginative diplomatists, anxious certainly to take

securities for a lasting {88} peace, but still more anxious to bolster

up the ancient dynasties.

Against their arbitrary expedients there was soon a strong reaction,

and dreaming began once more among the nations, as they turned in their

sleep, and tried to stretch their hampered limbs. At the beginning

their dreaming was of a mild and somewhat futile type. It called

itself 'liberalism'--a name coined upon the continent of Europe. It

aimed by methods of peaceful persuasion, at reaching the double goal of

nationality as the ideal unit of the state, and popular representation

as the ideal system of government. Then the seams of the patchwork,

which had been put together with so much labour at Vienna[1] and

Aix-la-Chapelle,[2] began to gape. Greece struggled with some success

to free herself from the Turk,[3] and Belgium broke away from

Holland,[4] as at a much later date Norway severed her union with

Sweden.[5] In 1848 there were revolutions all over Europe, the objects

of which were the setting up of parliamentary systems. In all

directions it seemed as if the dynastic stitches were coming undone.

Italy dreamed of union and finally achieved it,[6] expelling the

Austrian encroachers--though not by peaceful persuasion--and

disordering still further the neatly sewn handiwork of Talleyrand,

Metternich, and Castlereagh. Finally, the Balkans began to dream of

Slav destinies, unrealisable either under the auspices of the Sublime

Porte or in tutelage to the Habsburgs.[7]

[Sidenote: MAKING OF THE GERMAN UNION]

But of all the nations which have dreamed since days long before

Napoleon, none has dreamed more {89} nobly or more persistently than

Germany. For the first half of the nineteenth century it seemed as if

the Germans were satisfied to behold a vision without attempting to

turn it into a reality. Their aspirations issued in no effective

action. They dreamed of union between their many kingdoms,

principalities, and duchies, and of building up a firm empire against

which all enemies would beat in vain; but until 1864 they had gone but

a few steps towards the achievement of this end.

Then within a period of seven years, Prussia, the most powerful of the

German states, planned, provoked, and carried to a successful issue

three wars of aggression. By a series of swift strokes, the genius of

Bismarck snatched Schleswig-Holstein from the Danes, beat down the

pretensions of Austria to the leadership of the Teutonic races, and

wrested the provinces of Alsace and Lorraine from France. When Denmark

was invaded by Germanic armies in February 1864, the vision of unity

seemed as remote as ever; by January 1871 it was fully achieved. When

at Versailles, in the Hall of Mirrors, in the stately palace of the

Bourbons, King William accepted from the hands of his peers--the

sovereign rulers of Germany--an imperial crown, the dream of centuries

was fulfilled.

Austria, indeed, stood aloof; but both by reason of her geographical

situation and the heterogeneous ancestry of her people that was a

matter only of small account. Union was, for all practical purposes

complete. And what made the achievement all the more marvellous was

the fact, that the vision had been realised by methods which had no

place in the gentle speculations of those, who had cherished the {90}

hope of unity with the most fervent loyalty. It had been accomplished

by the Prussians, who of all races between the Alps and the Baltic,

between the mountain barriers of Burgundy and the Polish Marshes, are

the least German in blood,[8] and who of all Germans dream the least.

It had been carried through, not by peaceful persuasion, nor on any

principles of Liberalism, nor in any of the ways foreseen by the

philosophers and poets who had beheld visions of the millennium. Union

was the triumph of craft and calculation, courage and resolve, 'blood

and iron.'

The world in general, whose thoughts at this time were much more

congenially occupied with International Exhibitions, and Peace

Societies, and the ideals of Manchester statesmanship, was inclined to

regard the whole of this series of events as an anachronism--as the

belated offspring of 'militarism' and 'feudalism.' These were well

known to be both in their dotage; they could not possibly survive for

many years. What had happened, therefore, did not startle mankind

simply because the nature of it was not understood. The spirit of the

age, wholly possessed, as it was, by an opposite set of ideas, was

unable to comprehend, to believe in, or even to consider with patience,

phenomena which, according to prevailing theories, had no reasonable

basis of existence.

In some quarters, indeed, efforts were made to gloss over the

proceedings of Prince Bismarck, and to fit them into the fashionable

theory of a universe, flowing with the milk of human kindness and the

{91} honey of material prosperity. It was urged that the Germans were

a people, pure in their morals, industrious in their habits, the

pioneers of higher education and domestic economy. For the most part,

British and American public opinion was inclined to regard these

various occurrences and conquests as a mediaeval masquerade, in rather

doubtful taste, but of no particular significance and involving no

serious consequences. Even in that enlightened age, however, there

were still a few superstitious persons who saw ghosts. To their eyes

the shade of Richard Cobden seemed in some danger of being eclipsed in

the near future by that of Niccolo Machiavelli; though the former had

died in great honour and prestige only a few years earlier, while the

latter had been dead, discredited, and disavowed for almost as many

centuries.

[Sidenote: GERMAN PROSPERITY AFTER UNION]

After 1870 Germany entered upon a period of peaceful prosperity.

Forges clanged, workshops throbbed, looms hummed, and within twenty

years, the ebb of emigration had entirely ceased. Indeed, not only was

there work in the Fatherland for all its sons, but for others besides;

so that long before another twenty years had passed away, the tide had

turned and immigrants were pouring in.

At first the larger part of German exports was cheap and nasty, with a

piratical habit of sailing under false colours, and simulating

well-known British and other national trade-marks. But this was a

brief interlude. The sagacity, thoroughness, and enterprise of

manufacturers and merchants soon guided their steps past this dangerous

quicksand, and the label _made in Germany_ ceased to be a reproach.

{92}

Students and lovers of truth laboured at discovery; and hard upon their

heels followed a crowd of practical inventors--the gleaners,

scavengers, and rag-pickers of science. Never had the trade of any

country thriven with a more wonderful rapidity. Though still of

necessity a borrower by very reason of her marvellous expansion,

Germany nevertheless began to make her influence felt in the financial

sphere. Her own ships carried her products to the ends of the earth,

and fetched home raw materials in exchange. And not only this, her

merchant fleets began to enter into successful competition for the

carrying trade of the world, even with the Mistress of the Seas herself.

[Sidenote: LIFE'S WORK OF BISMARCK]

For a score of years after the fall of Paris, Germany found but little

time for dreaming. Meanwhile, by an astute if somewhat tortuous

policy, and under the impenetrable shield of the finest army in Europe,

Bismarck kept safe the empire which he had founded. He declined to be

drawn into adventures either at home or abroad, either in the new world

or the old. He opposed the colonial aspirations of a few visionaries,

who began to make some noise towards the end of his long reign, and

silenced them with some spacious but easy acquisitions in Africa and

the East. He consolidated the Prussian autocracy, and brought its

servant, the bureaucracy, to the highest pitch of efficiency. He

played with the political parties in the Reichstag as if they had been

a box of dominoes, combining them into what patterns he pleased. At

the same time he fostered the national well-being with ceaseless

vigilance, and kept down popular discontent by the boldness and

thoroughness of his social legislation. But for Bismarck himself {93}

the age of adventure was past. It was enough that by the labours of an

arduous lifetime, he had made of Germany a puissant state, in which all

her children, even the most restless, could find full scope for their

soaring ambitions.

[1] 1814.

[2] 1818.

[3] 1821-1829.

[4] 1830.

[5] 1905.

[6] 1859-1861.

[7] 1875-1878.

[8] The admixture of Slavonic and Wendish blood in the Prussian stock

is usually calculated by ethnologists at about half and half.

{94}

CHAPTER II

AFTER BISMARCK

With the dismissal of Bismarck in 1890, Germany entered upon a new

phase. Then once again her people began to dream, and this time

furiously. They had conquered in war. They had won great victories in

peace. According to their own estimate they were the foremost thinkers

of the world. They found themselves impelled by a limitless ambition

and a superb self-confidence. But the vision which now presented

itself to their eyes was disordered and tumultuous. Indeed it was less

dream than nightmare; and in some degree, no doubt, it owed its origin,

like other nightmares, to a sudden surfeit--to a glut of material

prosperity.[1]

Why did Germany with her larger population still lag behind Britain in

commerce and shipping? Surely the reason could only be that Britain,

at every turn, sought to cripple the enterprise of her young rival.

Why had Britain a great and thriving colonial empire, while Germany had

only a few tracts of tropical jungle and light soil, not particularly

prosperous or promising? The reason could only be that, out of

jealousy, Britain had obstructed Teutonic acquisition. Why was Germany

tending {95} to become more and more isolated and unpopular in Europe?

The reason could only be that the crafty and unscrupulous policy of

Britain had intrigued, with some success, for her political ostracism.

[Illustration: GERMAN NIGHTMARES]

It is useless to argue with a man in a nightmare. He brushes reason

aside and cares not for facts. But to seekers after truth it was

obvious, that so far from making any attack upon German commerce,

Britain, by adhering to her system of free trade at home and in her

dependencies, had conferred a boon immeasurable on this new and eager

competitor. So far from hindering Germany's acquisition of colonies,

Britain had been careless and indifferent in the matter; perhaps too

much so for the security of some of her own possessions. It was

Bismarck, much more than Britain, who had put obstacles in the way of

German colonial expansion. With a sigh of relief (as we may imagine)

this great statesman saw the partition of the vacant territories of the

world completed, and his fellow-countrymen thereby estopped from

wasting their substance, and dissipating their energies, in costly and

embarrassing adventures. So far from holding aloof from Germany or

attempting to isolate her among European nations, we had persisted in

treating her with friendliness, long after she had ceased to be

friendly. One of our leading statesmen had even gone the length of

suggesting an alliance, and had been denounced immediately by the whole

German press, although it was understood at the time that he had spoken

with the august encouragement of the Kaiser and his Chancellor.[2] It

was Germany herself, deprived of the guidance of Bismarck, who by

blustering at {96} her various neighbours, and threatening them in

turn, had aroused their suspicions and achieved her own isolation.

The grievances against Britain which figured in the phantasmagoria of

the German nightmare were obviously tinged with envy. There were other

grievances against France, and these were tinged with annoyance. For

France, although she had been beaten on to her knees, had nevertheless

had the impudence to make a successful recovery. There were also

grievances against Russia, and these were tinged with fear. Her vast

adjacent territories and teeming population, her social and industrial

progress, the reformation of her government, and the rapid recuperation

of her military and naval power, constituted in German eyes the gravest

menace of all.

Self-confidence and ambition were the original stuff--the warp and the

weft--of which the German dream was made; but these admirable and

healthy qualities rapidly underwent a morbid deterioration. Ambition

degenerated into groundless suspicion, and self-confidence into

arrogance. It was a considerable time, however, before Germany was

realised to have become a public danger by reason of her mental

affliction. Until her prophets and high priests began preaching from

the housetops as a divine ordinance, that Germany was now so great,

prosperous, and prolific as to need the lands of her neighbours for her

expansion, her symptoms were not generally recognised. It was not

really pressure of population, but only the oppression of a nightmare

which had brought her to this restless and excited condition. In terms

of psychology, the disease from which Germany has been suffering of

late years is {97} known as megalomania, in the slang of the

street-corner as madness of the swollen head.

The dreams of a nation may be guided well or ill by statesmen, or they

may be left altogether unguided. The dreams of Italy under Cavour, and

those of Germany under Bismarck, were skilfully fostered and directed

with great shrewdness to certain practical ends. But in considering

the case of Germany under William the Second, our feeling is that

although popular imaginings have been controlled from above with even

greater solicitude than before, the persons who inspired and regulated

them have been lacking in the sense of proportion. The governing power

would seem to have been the victim of changing moods, conflicting

policies, and disordered purposes.

[Sidenote: TWO FUNDAMENTAL ASSUMPTIONS]

When we piece together the various schemes for the aggrandisement of

the Fatherland, which German writers have set forth with increasing

boldness and perfect gravity during the past ten years, we are

confronted with an immense mosaic--a conception of the most grandiose

character. On examination each of these projects is found to be based

upon two fundamental assumptions:--The first, that the present

boundaries of Germany and her possessions overseas are too narrow to

contain the legitimate aspirations of the German race:--The second that

it is the immediate interest of Germany, as well as a duty which she

owes to posterity, to remedy this deficiency, by taking from her

neighbours by force what she requires for her own expansion. There is

a third assumption, not however of a political so much as an ethical

character, which is stated with {98} equal frankness and

conviction--that war on an extensive scale is necessary, from time to

time, in order to preserve the vigour of the German people and their

noble spirit.

One school of dreamers, with its gaze fixed upon the Atlantic

trade-routes, insists upon the absurdity of resting content with a

western sea-board of some two hundred miles. The estuaries of the Elbe

and the Weser alone are exclusively German; that of the Ems is shared

with the Dutch; while the far more valuable harbour-mouths of the Rhine

and the Scheldt are in the possession of Holland and Belgium. Put into

plain language what this means is, that both Holland and Belgium must

be incorporated in the German Empire; if by treaty, so much the better

for all parties concerned; but if diplomacy should fail to accomplish

the desired absorption, then it must be brought about by war. Nor has

it been overlooked, that in order to complete the rectification, and to

secure the keys of the Baltic, it would be necessary to 'admit' Denmark

also into the privileges of the Germanic Empire.

Another school looks to the south-east and broods upon the day, not far

distant, when the Germans of Austria-Hungary--a small but dominating

minority of the whole population--will be driven, by reasons of

self-defence, to seek a federal inclusion in the Empire of the

Hohenzollerns. And it is surmised that for somewhat similar reasons

the Magyars of Hungary will at the same time elect to throw in their

lot with Teutons rather than with Slavs.

When that day arrives, however, it is not merely the German and Magyar

territories of the Habsburg Emperor-King which will need to be

incorporated {99} in the Hohenzollern Empire, but the whole congeries

of nations which at present submits, more or less reluctantly, to the

rule of Vienna and Buda-Pest. There must be no break-up of the empire

of Francis Joseph, no sentimental sacrifice to the mumbo-jumbos of

nationality. The Italians of Trieste and Fiume, the Bohemians, the

Croats, the Serbs, the Roumanians of Transylvania, and the Poles of

Galicia must all be kept together in one state, even more firmly than

they are to-day. The Germans of Austria will not be cordially

welcomed, unless they bring this dowry with them to the altar of

imperial union.

[Sidenote: THE AUSTRIAN DOWRY]

But to clear eyes, looking into the future, more even than this appears

to be necessary. Austria will be required to bring with her, not

merely all her present possessions, but also her reversionary

prospects, contingent remainders, and all and sundry her rights of

action throughout the whole Balkan peninsula, which sooner or later

must either accept the hegemony of the German Empire or submit to

annexation at the sword's point. Advantageous as it would be for the

Fatherland to obtain great harbours for her commerce at the head of the

Adriatic, these acquisitions might easily become valueless in practice

if some rival barred the right of entry through the Straits of Otranto.

Salonica again, in her snug and sheltered corner of the Aegean, is

essential as the natural entrepôt for the trade of Asia Minor and the

East; while there can be no hope, until the mouths of the Danube, as

well as the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, are firmly held, of turning

the Black Sea into a Germanic lake.

The absorption of the Balkan peninsula, involving {100} as it must the

occupation of Constantinople and European Turkey, would carry with it,

as a natural consequence, the custody of the Sultan and the control of

his Asiatic dominions. These vast territories which extend from Smyrna

to the Caucasus, from Syria to the Persian Gulf, from the Black Sea to

the Gulf of Aden, contain some of the richest and most fertile tracts

upon the surface of the globe. Massacre, misrule, and oppression have

indeed converted the greater part of these regions into a state hardly

to be distinguished from the barest deserts of Arabia. But a culture

which has lapsed through long neglect may be reclaimed by new

enterprise. All that is required to this end is such shelter and

encouragement as a stable government would afford.

What more suitable instrument for this beneficent recovery than the

peculiar genius of the Teuton race? Would not the whole world gain by

the substitution of settled order for a murderous anarchy, of tilth and

industry for a barren desolation? The waters of Tigris and Euphrates

are still sweet. It needs but the energy and art of man to lead them

in channelled courses, quenching the longings of a thirsty land, and

filling the Mesopotamian waste with the music of a myriad streams. The

doom of Babylon is no curse eternal. It awaits but the sword of

Siegfried to end the slumbers of two thousand years. Where great

cities and an ancient civilisation lie buried under drifted sand, great

cities may be raised once more, the habitations of a hardier race, the

seminaries of a nobler civilisation.

This vision, more fanciful and poetically inspired than the rest, has

already advanced some considerable {101} way beyond the frontiers of

dreamland. When the Turko-Russian War came to an end[3] the influence

of Germany at Constantinople was as nearly as possible nil; and so long

as Bismarck remained in power, no very serious efforts were made to

increase it. But from the date of Bismarck's dismissal[4] down to the

present day, it has been the steady aim of German policy to control the

destinies of the Turkish Empire. These attempts have been persistent,

and in the main successful.

[Sidenote: THE WOOING OF TURKEY]

It mattered not what dubious personage or party might happen to be in

the ascendant at Stamboul, the friendship of Germany was always

forthcoming. It was extended with an equal cordiality to Abdul Hamid;

to the Young Turks when they overthrew Abdul Hamid; to the

Reactionaries when they overthrew the Young Turks; to the Young Turks

again when they compounded matters with the Reactionaries. The

largesse of Berlin bankers refreshed the empty treasuries of each

despot and camarilla in turn, so soon as proofs could be produced of

positive, or even of presumptive predominance. At the same time the

makers of armaments, at Essen and elsewhere, looked to it, that a

sufficient portion of these generous loans was paid in kind, and that

the national gain was not confined to high policy and high finance.

The reform of the Turkish army was taken in hand zealously by Prussian

soldiers. Imperial courtesies cemented the bricks which usury,

commerce, and diplomacy had laid so well. At a time when the late

Sultan was ill-regarded by the whole of Europe, on account of his

supposed complicity in Armenian massacres, the {102} magnanimity of the

Kaiser took pity on the pariah, and a visit of honour to the Bosphorus

formed an incident in the Hohenzollern pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre.

The harvest of these endeavours was reaped at a later date in the form

of vast concessions for lines of railway running through Asia Minor to

the Persian Gulf. It is needless to enter here into a discussion of

the famous and still unsettled controversy regarding the Baghdad route,

except to say that this project for the benefit, not merely of Turkey,

but of the whole human race, was to be realised under German direction

and according to German plans and specifications; it was to be

administered under German control; but it was to be paid for in the

main out of the savings of England and France.

The scheme was no less bold than ingenious. Obligations were imposed

upon Turkey which it was clearly impossible for Turkey to discharge.

In the event of her failure it was likely to go hard with the original

shareholders, and somewhat hard with the Sublime Porte itself; but on

the other hand it was not likely to go hard with Germany, or to involve

her in anything more irksome than a labour of love--a protectorate over

Asia Minor and Arabia.[5]

These are the main dreams which German writers, with a genuine

enthusiasm and an engaging frankness, have set out in the pages of

books and periodicals--the North Sea dream, the Austrian dream, the

Balkan dream, and the Levantine dream. But these dreams by no means

exhaust the Teuton fancy.

Wars are contemplated calmly as inevitable {103} incidents in the

acquisition of world-power--war with France, war with England, war

either of army corps or diplomacy with Belgium, Holland, and Denmark.

And as victory is also contemplated, just as confidently, various

bye-products of considerable value are likely to be secured during the

process, and as a result.

[Sidenote: ACQUISITION OF AFRICA]

The greater part of north-western Africa, which lies along the

seaboards of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, is under the French

flag. The greater part of eastern Africa from Alexandria to Capetown

is in the hands of the British. The central region of Africa is

Belgian. In the north there is Tripoli which is now Italian; and in

various quarters patches and scattered islands which are Portuguese.

The former might be tolerated as a harmless enclave; the latter might

readily be acquired by compulsory purchase. What would then remain of

the Dark Continent is already German. So that, as the results of the

wars and victories which are considered by German thinkers to be

inevitable, the whole of Africa would shortly pass into German hands.

With the destinies of Africa in the keeping of a virile race,

accustomed to face great problems in no piecemeal fashion, but as a

whole, vast transformations must ensue. Before their indomitable will

and scientific thoroughness, the dusky savage will lay aside his

ferocity, and toil joyously at the arts of peace. Under an

indefatigable and intelligent administration, desert, jungle, forest,

and swamp will yield their appropriate harvests. Timber, oil, cotton,

rubber, tea, coffee, and every variety of raw material will gradually

become available in limitless supplies. Jewels and precious metals

will {104} be dug out of the bowels of the earth. Flocks and herds

will roam in safety over the rich uplands--no robber bands to drive

them off; no wild beasts to tear them limb from limb; no murrain or

envenomed fly to strike them down by tens of thousands. For as the

armies of the Kaiser are invincible against all human foes, so also are

his men of science invincible, in their ceaseless war against disease

of man and beast. In the end they also will conquer in their own

sphere, no less certainly than the soldier in his; for their courage is

as high and their devotion faces death, or worse than death, with

equanimity.

The Dark Continent, which in all its history has never known either

peace or order, will then at last know both. Even the stiff-necked

Africander, jealous of his antique shibboleths of freedom, will not

refuse incorporation in an Empire to which the land of his forefathers

will already have become bound in federal ties. And the dowry which

Holland is expected to bring with her, will be not only the good will

of the South African Dutch, but the rich islands of the East, where

merchant-adventurers planted her flag, in days when the fleets of

Rotterdam disputed, not unsuccessfully, with London herself the primacy

of the seas.

[Sidenote: THE EASTERN DREAM]

Finally, there is the dream of the farthest East. This is of such

simple grandeur that it may be stated in a few sentences. When the war

between China and Japan came to an end in 1895 Germany, acting in

concert with France and Russia, forced the victorious troops of the

Mikado to forgo all the fruits of their conquest. When three years

later Germany herself seized upon the reversion of Kiao-Chau, she {105}

saw a vision of an empire, greater than that which had been secured to

her envied rival by the daring of Clive and the forethought of Warren

Hastings. If England could hold and rule India, a mightier than

England could surely hold and rule China, containing though it does a

full quarter of the human race.

[1] "L'Allemand est né bête; la civilisation l'a, rendu

méchant."--HEINE.

[2] Mr. Chamberlain at Leicester on November 30, 1899.

[3] March 1878. Treaty of Berlin, July 1878.

[4] 1890.

[5] Cf. _The Anglo-German Problem_, by C. Sarolea, p. 247, and

following.

{106}

CHAPTER III

THE GERMAN PROJECT OF EMPIRE

The German project of empire is a gorgeous fabric. The weft of it is

thread of gold, but the warp of it has been dipped in the centaur's

blood. It is the pride of its possessor; but it is likely to be his

undoing. It ravishes his fancy with the symmetry and vastness of the

pattern; yet these very two qualities, which so much excite his

admiration, have shown themselves in the past singularly unpropitious

to high imperial adventures.

No man of action worthy of the name will ever take history for his

guide. He would rightly refuse to do so, even were it possible, which

it is not, to write history truthfully. But with all their

deficiencies, history books have certain sibylline qualities which make

them worth consulting upon occasions; and as to symmetry and vastness

this oracle, if consulted, would speak clearly enough. Of all false

enticements which have lured great princes to their ruin, these two

have the biggest tale of victims to their score.

[Sidenote: SYMMETRY AND VASTNESS]

The British Empire, like the Roman, built itself slowly. It was the

way of both nations to deal with needs as needs occurred, and not

before. Neither of them charted out their projects in advance, {107}

thereafter working to them, like Lenôtre, when he laid out the gardens

of Versailles. On the contrary, a strip was added here, a kingdom

there, as time went on, but not in accordance with any plan or system.

In certain cases, no doubt, the reason for annexation was a simple

desire for possession. But much more often the motive was apprehension

of one kind or another. Empire-builders have usually achieved empire

as an accident attending their search after security--security against

the ambition of a neighbour, against lawless hordes which threaten the

frontier, against the fires of revolution and disorder spreading from

adjacent territories. Britain, like Rome before her, built up her

empire piecemeal; for the most part reluctantly; always reckoning up

and dreading the cost, labour, and burden of it; hating the

responsibility of expansion, and shouldering it only when there seemed

to be no other course open to her in honour or safety. Symmetry did

not appeal to either of these nations any more than vastness. Their

realms spread out and extended, as chance and circumstances willed they

should, like pools of water in the fields when floods are out.

We cannot but distrust the soundness of recent German policy, with its

grandiose visions of universal empire, if we consider it in the light

of other things which happened when the world was somewhat younger,

though possibly no less wise. The great imaginative conquerors, though

the fame of their deeds still rings down the ages, do not make so brave

a show, when we begin to examine into the permanency of their

achievements. The imperial projects of Alexander, of the Habsburgs,

the Grand Monarque, and Napoleon--each of whom drew out {108} a vast

pattern and worked to it--are not among those things which can be said

with any justice to have endured. None of them were ever fully

achieved; while some were broken in pieces, even during the lifetimes

of their architects.

To treat the whole world as if it were a huge garden, for which one

small race of men, who have worked busily in a single corner of it, can

aspire to make and carry out an all-comprehending plan, is in reality a

proof of littleness and not largeness of mind. Such vaulting ambitions

are the symptoms of a dangerous disease, to be noted and distrusted.

And none ever noted these tendencies more carefully or distrusted them

more heartily than the two greatest statesmen whom Prussia has

produced. Frederick the Great rode his own Pegasus-vision on curb and

martingale. The Great Bismarck reined back the Pegasus-vision of his

fellow-countrymen on to its haunches with an even sterner hand. "One

cannot," so he wrote in later years--"one cannot see the cards of

Providence so closely as to anticipate historical development according

to one's own calculation."

[Sidenote: MASTERY OF THE WORLD]

Those very qualities of vastness and symmetry which appear to have such

fatal attraction for the pedantocracy repel the practical statesman;

and woe to the nation which follows after the former class rather than

the latter, when the ways of the two part company! To the foreign

observer it seems as if Germany, for a good many years past, has been

making this mistake. Perhaps it is her destiny so to do. Possibly the

reigns of Frederick and Bismarck were only interludes. For Germany

followed the pedantocracy during a century or more, {109} while it

preached political inaction and contentment with a shorn and parcelled

Fatherland. She was following it still, when Bismarck turned

constitutionalism out of doors and went his own stern way to union.

And now once again she seems to be marching in a fatal procession after

the same Pied Pipers, who this time are engaged, with a surpassing

eloquence and fervour, in preaching discontent with the narrow limits

of a united empire, and in exhorting their fellow-countrymen to proceed

to the Mastery of the World.

Among an imaginative race like the Germans, those who wield the weapons

of rhetoric and fancy are only too likely to get the better of those

surer guides, who know from hard experience that the world is a diverse

and incalculable place, where no man, and no acre of land, are

precisely the same as their next-door neighbours, where history never

repeats itself, and refuses always--out of malice or disdain--to travel

along the way which ingenious Titans have charted for it. But it is

not every generation which succeeds in producing a Frederick the Great

or a Bismarck, to tame the dreamers and use them as beasts of draught

and burden.

The complete mosaic of the German vision is an empire incomparably

greater in extent, in riches, and in population, than any which has yet

existed since the world first began to keep its records. Visionaries

are always in a hurry. This stupendous rearrangement of the Earth's

surface is confidently anticipated to occur within the first half of

the present century. It is to be accomplished by a race distinguished

for its courage, industry, and devotion,--let us admit so much without

grudging. {110} But in numbers--even if we count the Teutons of the

Habsburg Empire along with those of the Hohenzollern--it amounts upon

the highest computation to less than eighty millions. This is the

grain of mustard-seed which is confidently believed to have in it 'the

property to get up and spread,' until within little more than a

generation, it will dominate and control more than seven hundred

millions of human souls.

Nor to German eyes, which dwell lovingly, and apparently without

misgiving, upon this appalling prospect of symmetry and vastness, are

these the sum total of its attractions. The achievement of their

vision would bring peace to mankind. For there would then be but two

empires remaining, which need give the overlords of the world the

smallest concern. Of these Russia, in their opinion, needs a century

at least in which to emerge out of primitive barbarism and become a

serious danger; while in less than a century, the United States must

inevitably crumble to nonentity, through the worship of false gods and

the corruption of a decadent democracy. Neither of these two empires

could ever hope to challenge the German Mastery of the World.

In South America as in North, there is already a German garrison,

possessing great wealth and influence. And in the South, at any rate,

it may well become, very speedily, an imperative obligation on the

Fatherland to secure, for its exiled children, more settled conditions

under which to extend the advantages of German commerce and Kultur.

President Monroe has already been dead a hundred years or more.

According to the calculations of the pedantocracy, his famous doctrine

will need some stronger {111} backing than the moral disapprobation of

a hundred millions of materially-minded and unwarlike people, in order

to withstand the pressure of German diplomacy, if it should summon

war-ships and transports to its aid.

[Sidenote: UNIVERSAL PEACE]

So in the end we arrive at an exceedingly strange conclusion. For that

very thing, which the philanthropists have all these years been vainly

endeavouring to bring about by means of congresses of good men, and

resolutions which breathe a unanimity of noble aspirations, may be

achieved in a single lifetime by a series of bold strokes with the

German sword. Then at last Universal Peace will have been secured.

At this point the Prussian professor and the pacifist apostle, who

turned their backs upon one another so angrily at the beginning, and

started off, as it seemed, in opposite directions, are confronting one

another unexpectedly at the other side of the circle of human

endeavour. They ought surely to shake hands; for each, if he be

honest, will have to own himself the convert of the other. "You admit

then after all," cries the triumphant Pacifist, "that Peace is the real

end of human endeavour!" "Whether or no," grunts the other in reply,

"this at any rate was the only road to it."

One wonders--will the Pacifist be content? He has reached his goal

sure enough; though by means which he has been accustomed to denounce

as the end of all true morality? Will the Professor, on the other

hand, be well pleased when he discovers that by the very triumph of his

doctrines he has made war for ever impossible,--manliness, therefore,

and all true virtue likewise impossible,--thereby damning {112} the

souls of posterity to the end of time? "To put questions in this

quarter with a hammer, and to hear perchance that well-known hollow

sound which tells of blown-out frogs"[1]--this is a joy, no doubt; and

it is all we are ever likely to arrive at by the cross-examination of

dreamers.

[1] Nietzsche, _The Twilight of Idols_.

{113}

CHAPTER IV

THE NEW MORALISTS

The dream of German expansion, as year by year it took firmer hold upon

the popular imagination, produced, as might have been expected, a

desire that it might be realised. From the stage of vague and ardent

longing it was but a short way to the next, where a determined will

began to put forth efforts towards achievement. But as mankind in the

mass, whether in Germany or England, is still to some extent hampered

by human nature, by a number of habits, traditions, and instincts, and

by various notions of good and evil, justice and injustice--which the

subtlest philosophers and most eloquent rhetoricians have not yet

succeeded in eradicating--a need was felt for what the text-books in

their solemn nomenclature call _an ethical basis_. In plain words, the

German people wanted to have right on their side--if possible,

old-fashioned, Sunday-school, copy-book Right. Failing that, even such

a plea as the wolf maintained against the lamb would be a great deal

better than nothing.

This tendency in a nation to look about for justification and a

righteous plea, when it is preparing to possess itself of property

belonging to its neighbours, is for the most part a subconscious

process, not only {114} among the common people, but also among the

leaders themselves. It resembles the instinct among hens which

produces in them an appetite for lime when the season has come to begin

laying. It was through some natural impulse of this sort, and not

through mere cynicism, hypocrisy, or cool calculation, that German

publicists discovered all the grievances which have been already

touched upon. For even if the possession of these grievances did not

altogether give the would-be aggressors right up to the point of

righteousness, it certainly put their neighbours in the wrong, and

branded the French dove and the British lamb with turpitude in the eyes

of the German people. The grievances against France were, that

although she had been vanquished in 1870, although her population had

actually decreased since that date, and although therefore she had

neither the right to nor any need for expansion, she had nevertheless

expanded in Africa as well as in the East, to a far greater extent than

Germany herself, the victorious power, whose own population had

meanwhile been increasing by leaps and bounds.

[Sidenote: GRIEVANCES AGAINST ENGLAND]

The grievances against Britain were that she was supposed to have made

war upon German trade, to have prevented her young rival from acquiring

colonies, and to have intrigued to surround the Teuton peoples with a

ring of foes. Britain had helped France to occupy and hold her new

territories. Britain had been mainly responsible for the diplomatic

defeat of Germany at Algeciras in 1905 and again over Agadir in 1911.

Moreover when Germany, during the South African war, had attempted, in

the interests of international morality, to combine the nations against

us, we had foiled her high-minded {115} and unselfish endeavours. When

at an earlier date she had sought, by the seizure of Kiao-Chau and by a

vigorous concentration, to oust British influence and trade from their

position of predominance in China, we had countered her efforts by the

occupation of Wei-hai-wei and the Japanese alliance.

As regards command of the sea we had likewise frustrated German

ambitions. After a certain amount of vacillation, and a somewhat

piteous plea for a general diminution of armaments--backed up by an

arrest of our own, which Germany interpreted, perhaps not unnaturally,

as a throwing up of the sponge and beginning of the end of our naval

supremacy--we had actually had the treachery (for it was nothing less)

to upset all her calculations, and turn all her efforts and

acceleration to foolishness, by resuming the race for sea-power with

redoubled energy. And although to our own eyes, and even possibly to

the eyes of impartial observers, none of these doings of ours--in so

far as they were truly alleged--could be rightly held to constitute any

real grievance, that consideration was irrelevant. For when a man is

in search of a grievance he will find it, if he be earnest enough, in

the mere fact that his intended adversary stammers, or has a wart upon

his nose.

German statesmen were happy in having established these grievances to

their own satisfaction; but something more was necessary in order that

their morality might rest upon a sure foundation. German policy must

be absolutely right, and not merely relatively right by contrast with

those neighbours whose power she sought to overthrow, and whose

territories she wished to annex. And although this {116} effort to

establish German policy on the principle of Right involved a recasting

of Christian morality, it was not shirked on that account. On the

contrary it was undertaken in a most energetic spirit.

The first great influence in this readjustment of popular conceptions

of right and wrong was the historian Heinrich von Treitschke.[1] He

boldly differentiated the moral obligations of the private individual

from those of a government charged with the destinies of a nation.[2]

The duties of a man to his family, neighbours, and society Treitschke

left undisturbed. In this sphere of human life the teaching of the

Sermon on the Mount not only remained unchallenged, but was upheld and

reinforced. Statecraft, however, fell under a different category.

[Sidenote: THE STATE IS POWER]

The true principle of private conduct was Love for one's Neighbour, but

the true principle of the state was Power. The duty of a virtuous

ruler was to seek power, more power, and always more power, on behalf

of the nation he was called upon to govern. The internal power of the

state over the action of its own subjects was absolute, and it was a

duty owed by each generation of rulers to posterity, to see to it that

in their own time, the external power of the {117} state was increased

at the expense of its neighbours.[3] To secure this end wars were

inevitable; and despite the sufferings which wars entailed, they were

far from regrettable, for the reason that they preserved the vigour,

unity, and devotion of the race, while stimulating the virtues of

courage and self-sacrifice among private citizens.[4]

Nations, he maintained, cannot safely stand still. They must either

increase their power or lose it, expand their territories or be

prepared to see them shorn away. No growth of spiritual force or

material well-being within the state will preserve it, if it fails to

extend its authority and power among its neighbours. Feelings of

friendliness, chivalry, and pity are absurd as between nations. To

speak even of justice in such a connection is absurd. Need and Might

together constitute Right. Nor ought the world to regret the eating-up

of weak nations by the strong, of small nations by the great,

because--a somewhat bold conclusion--great and powerful nations alone

are capable of producing what the world requires in thought, art,

action, and virtue. For how can these things flourish nobly in a

timid, cowering state, which finds itself driven by force of

circumstances to make-believes and fictions, to {118} the meanest

supplications and to devices of low cunning, in order to preserve an

independence which, as it can only exist on sufferance, is nothing

better than a sham?[5]

As the Hohenzollerns, the noblest and most capable of modern dynasties,

had never been content merely to reign, but had always maintained their

'divine right' of ruling and dominating the Prussian Kingdom--as

Prussia itself, the most manly and energetic of modern nations, had not

been content merely to serve as the figurehead of a loose

confederation, but had insisted upon becoming supreme master and

imposing its own system, policy, and ideals upon all Germany--so was it

the duty and destiny of united Germany, under these happy auspices,

having been taught and seasoned by long centuries of stern and painful

apprenticeship, to issue forth in the meridian vigour of her age and

seize upon the Mastery of the World.

[Sidenote: FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE]

If Treitschke, the eloquent historian, succeeded to his own

satisfaction and that of a very large proportion of German statesmen,

soldiers, intellectuals, and publicists in taking high policy

altogether out of the jurisdiction of Christian morals, Friedrich

Wilhelm Nietzsche,[6] the even more eloquent and infinitely more subtle

poet-philosopher, made a cleaner and {119} bolder cut, and got rid of

Christian morality even in the sphere of private conduct.

Nietzsche was but little interested or concerned in the practical

problems of statecraft which engrossed the patriotic mind of

Treitschke. The destinies of the German nation were for him a small

matter in comparison with those of the human race. But nevertheless

his vigorously expressed contempt for the English, their ways of life

and thought, the meanness of their practical aims, and the degradation

of their philosophic ideals,[7] was comforting to his

fellow-countrymen, who were relieved to find that the nation whom they

desired to despoil was so despicable and corrupt. This train of

argument was deceptive and somewhat dangerous; for it led his German

readers to overlook the fact, that the broad front of his attack aimed

at enveloping and crushing the cherished traditions of the Teuton race

no less than those of the Anglo-Saxon.[8]

{120}

Nietzsche's derision and dislike of the Prussian spirit, of militarism,

and of what he conceived to be the spurious principle of nationality,

his vague, disinterested cosmopolitanism or Europeanism, are as the

poles apart from the aims and ideas of Treitschke and the German

patriots.[9] Nietzsche is not concerned to evolve a sovereign and

omnipotent state, but a high overmastering type of man, who shall

inherit the earth and dominate--not for their good, but for his

own--the millions who inhabit it. His ideal is a glorious aristocracy

of intellect, beauty, courage, self-control, felicity, and power,

scornfully smiling, exuberantly vital. The evolution, ever higher and

higher, of this fine oligarchy of super-men is the one absolute end of

human endeavour. The super-men will use and direct the force and

instincts of 'the herd'--even the capacities of kings, soldiers,

law-givers, {121} and administrators--to make the world a fit place for

their own development. The millions of slaves are to be considered

merely as a means to this end. Concern about them for their own sakes,

above all pity for their sufferings, or regard on the part of the

super-men for their resentment--except to guard against it--is a

mistake. The serenity of the superman must not allow itself to be

disturbed and distracted by any such considerations. It is for him to

take what he needs or desires, to impose order on the world, so that it

may be a fit environment for the evolution of his own caste, and, so

far as he can compass it, to live like the gods.[10]

[Sidenote: THE BLONDE BRUTE]

It is clear that although Nietzsche chaunts a pæan in admiration of

"the magnificent blonde brute, avidly rampant for spoil and

victory,"[11] and although he is constantly found, as it were, humming

this refrain, he had no intention of taking the Prussian as his ideal

type--still less of personifying Prussia itself as a super-state

engaged in a contest for supremacy with a herd of inferior nations. He

does not trouble himself in the least about nations, but only about

individual men. Yet, like others who have had the gift of memorable

speech, he might {122} well marvel, were he still alive, at the

purposes to which his words have been turned by orators and

journalists, desirous to grind an edge on their own blunt axes.

General von Bernhardi[12] may be taken as a type of the sincere but

unoriginal writer who turns all texts to the support of his own sermon.

He is an honest, literal fellow. In spite of all his ecstatic flights

of rhetoric he is never at all in the clouds--never any farther from

the earth's surface than hopping distance. Notwithstanding, he quietly

appropriates any Nietzschean aphorisms the sound and shape of which

appear to suit his purpose, and uses them to drive home his very simple

and concrete proposition that it is the duty of Germany to conquer the

world.

One imagines from his writings that Bernhardi has no quarrel with

Christianity, no wish whatsoever to overturn our accepted notions of

morality. He is merely a soldier with a fixed idea, and he is very

much in earnest. His literary methods remind one somewhat of the

starlings in spring-time, perched on the backs of sheep and cattle,

picking off the loose hairs to line their nests. This is the highly

practical and soldierly use to which he puts philosophers, poets, and

men of letters generally--laying them under contribution to garnish his

discourse.

[Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF PHILOSOPHY]

It is probably true that the average soldier who fought on the German

side at Ypres and elsewhere {123} was hardly more conversant with the

writings of Treitschke, Nietzsche, and Bernhardi than the average

British soldier opposed to him was with those of Herbert Spencer, Mr.

Bernard Shaw, and Mr. Norman Angell. It is very unlikely, however,

that the battle of Ypres would ever have been fought had it not been

for the ideas which sprang from these and similar sources. The

influence of the written and spoken word upon German policy and action

is glaringly manifest.[13] It inspired and supported the high

bureaucrats at Berlin, and had equally to do, if indirectly, with the

marching of the humblest raw recruits shoulder to shoulder to be shot

down on the Menin Road. For by a process of percolation through the

press and popular literature, the doctrines of these teachers--diluted

somewhat, it is true, and a good deal disguised and perverted--had

reached a very wide audience. Though the names of these authors were

for the most part unknown, though their opinions had never been either

understood or accepted by the common people, the effects of their

teaching had made themselves felt in every home in Germany.

The German private soldier would not have been shot down unless these

eloquent sermons had been preached. None the less, he had never

grasped or understood, far less had he adhered to and professed, the

cardinal doctrines which they contained. He still believed in the

old-fashioned morality, and thought that states as well as individual

men were bound to act justly. It was this faith which gave {124} him

his strength, and made him die gladly. For he believed that Germany

had acted justly, the Allies unjustly, that it was his task, along with

other good men and true, to win victory for his Emperor and safety for

his Fatherland, and to crush the treacherous and malignant aggressors.

In spite of all this preliminary discoursing which had been going on

for many years past, like artillery preparation before an infantry

attack--about world-power, will-to-power, and all the rest of

it--nothing is more remarkable than the contrast presented, immediately

after war broke out, between the blatancy of those writers who had

caused the war and the bleating of those (in many cases the same) who

sought to justify Germany's part in it to their countrymen and the

world.

On the enlightened principles of Treitschke and Bernhardi, Britain

would have acted not only wisely, but in the strictest accordance with

her duty to her own state, had she indeed contrived and compassed this

war, believing circumstances to be favourable for herself and

unfavourable for Germany. Not another shred of right or reason was

required.[14] But when war actually burst out, all these new-fangled

doctrines went by the board. Though the ink was hardly dry upon

Bernhardi's latest exhortation--of which several hundred thousand

copies had been sold, and in which he urged his fellow-countrymen to

watch their time and make war when it suited them, without remorse and

no matter on what {125} plea--in spite of this fact, there was a

singular lack of Stoicism among 'the brethren' when war was declared

against Russia and France. When Britain joined in, and when things

began to go less well than had been expected, Stoicism entirely

disappeared. Indeed there is something highly ludicrous, at the same

time painful--like all spectacles of human abasement--in the chorus of

whines and shrill execration, which at once went up to heaven from that

very pedantocracy whose leaders, so short a time before, had been

preaching that, as between the nations of the earth, Might is Right,

and Craft is the trusty servant of Might.[15]

[Sidenote: APOSTASY WHEN WAR CAME]

These scolding fakirs were of an infinite credulity, inasmuch as they

believed that Sir Edward Grey was the reincarnation of Machiavelli.

Yet on their own principles, what was there in this discovery to be in

the least shocked at? British statesmen (it is hardly necessary to

repeat it) had not walked in the footsteps of the Florentine; had not

provoked the war; had not wished for it; had tried with all their might

to prevent it; but if they had done the very reverse, would they not

merely have been {126} taking a leaf out of the sacred book of the

pedantocracy--out of Bernhardi's book, out of Nietzsche's book, out of

Treitschke's book? Why, then, all these unpleasant howlings and

ravings?

The answers are not hard to find. The careful plans and theories of

the German bureaucrats had been turned topsy-turvy because England had

joined in the war when, according to the calculations of the augurs,

she should have remained neutral. That mistake must have been

sufficiently annoying in itself to disturb the equanimity even of

professional philosophers. And further, in spite of all the ingenious,

eloquent, and sophistical exhortations of the prophets, the old

morality still kept its hold upon the hearts of men. When trouble

arose they turned to it instinctively--priesthood as well as

people--and the later gospel fell flat like a house of cards.

Immediately war came there was an appeal to old-fashioned justice, and

the altars of the little, new-fangled, will-to-power gods were deserted

by their worshippers.

When statesmen are laying out policies, and moralists are setting up

systems, it is worth their while to make certain that they are not, in

fact, engaged upon an attempt to make water flow uphill; above all,

that their ingenious new aqueducts will actually hold water, which in

this instance they certainly did not.

[1] Heinrich von Treitschke, son of a Saxon general of

Bohemian-Slavonic origin; born at Dresden 1834. Deafness following

upon a fever in childhood prevented him from adopting the profession of

arms; 1858-1863 lectured on history at Leipzig; 1863-1866 professor at

Freiburg; 1866-1874 professor at Heidelberg; 1874 until his death in

1896 professor of history and politics at Berlin.

[2] "Thus it follows from this, that we must distinguish between public

and private morality. The order of rank of the various duties must

necessarily be for the State, as it is power, quite other than for

individual men. A whole series of these duties, which are obligatory

on the individual, are not to be thought of in any case for the State.

To maintain itself counts for it always as the highest commandment;

that is absolutely moral for it. And on that account we must declare

that of all political sins that of weakness is the most reprehensible

and the most contemptible; it is in politics the sin against the Holy

Ghost...."--_Selections_, p. 32.

[3] "That must not hinder us from declaring joyfully that the gifted

Florentine, with all the vast consequence of his thinking, was the

first to set in the centre of all politics the great thought: _The

State is power_. For that is the truth; and he who is not man enough

to look this truth in the face ought to keep his hands off

politics."--_Ibid._ p. 28.

[4] "... to the historian who lives in the world of will it is

immediately clear that the demand for a perpetual peace is thoroughly

reactionary; he sees that with war all movement, all growth, must be

struck out of history. It has always been the tired, unintelligent,

and enervated periods that have played with the dream of perpetual

peace...."--_Selections_, p. 25.

"It is precisely political idealism that demands wars, while

materialism condemns them. What a perversion of morality to wish to

eliminate heroism from humanity!"--_Ibid._ p. 24.

[5] "... if we survey history in the mass, it is clear that all real

masterpieces of poetry and art arose upon the soil of great

nationalities;" and "The poet and artist must be able to react upon a

great nation. When did a masterpiece ever arise among a petty little

nation?"--_Ibid._ p. 19.

[6] Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, son of a village pastor of Polish

ancestry; born at Röcken in Saxony 1844; served in the German army for

a few months in 1867; injured in mounting his horse; 1869-1879

professor of classical philology at Bale which entailed naturalisation

as a Swiss subject; served in ambulance in war of 1870-1871; 1879-1889

in bad health, wrote and travelled; 1889 became insane and remained so

till his death in 1900.

[7] "What is lacking in England, and has always been lacking, that

half-actor and rhetorician knew well enough, the absurd muddlehead,

Carlyle, who sought to conceal under passionate grimaces what he knew

about himself: namely, what was lacking in Carlyle, real _power_ of

intellect, real _depth_ of intellectual perception, in short,

philosophy."--_Beyond Good and Evil_, p. 210.

"The Englishman, more gloomy, sensual, headstrong, and brutal than the

German--is for that very reason, as the baser of the two, also the most

pious."--_Ibid._ p. 211.

"The English coarseness and rustic demureness is still more

satisfactorily disguised by Christian pantomime, and by praying and

psalm-singing (or, more correctly, it is thereby explained and

differently expressed); and for the herd of drunkards and rakes who

formerly learned moral grunting under the influence of Methodism (and

more recently as the 'Salvation Army'), a penitential fit may really be

the relatively highest manifestation of 'humanity' to which they can be

elevated."--_Ibid._ p. 211.

"The European ignobleness, the plebeianism of modern ideas, is

England's work and invention."--_Ibid._ p. 213.

[8] "I believe only in French culture, and regard everything else in

Europe which calls itself 'culture' as a misunderstanding. I do not

even take the German kind into consideration.... The few instances of

higher culture with which I have met in Germany were all French in

their origin."--_Ecce Homo_, p. 27.

"Wherever Germany extends her sway, she _ruins_ culture."--_Ibid._ p.

38.

"Culture and the state are antagonists: a 'culture-state' is merely a

modern idea. The one lives upon the other, the one flourishes at the

expense of the other. All great periods of culture have been periods

of political decline; that which was great from the standpoint of

culture was always unpolitical--even anti-political.... In the history

of European culture the rise of the (German) Empire signifies, above

all, a displacement of the centre of gravity. Everywhere people are

already aware of this: in things that really matter--and these after

all constitute culture--the Germans are no longer worth considering....

The fact that there is no longer a single German philosopher worth

mentioning is an increasing wonder."--_The Twilight of the Idols_, p.

54.

"Every great crime against culture for the last four centuries lies on

their [the German] conscience.... It was the Germans who caused Europe

to lose the fruits, the whole meaning of her last period of

greatness--the period of the Renaissance...."--_Ecce Homo_, p. 124.

"The future of German culture rests with the sons of Prussian

officers."--_The Genealogy of Morals_, p. 222.

"If any one wishes to see the 'German soul' demonstrated _ad oculos_,

let him only look at German taste, at German arts and manners: what

boorish indifference to 'taste'!"--_The Antichrist_.

[9] "What quagmires and mendacity there must be about if it is

possible, in the modern European hotchpotch, to raise questions of

race."

A Nation--"Men who speak one language and read the same

newspapers."--_The Genealogy of Morals_, p. 226.

[10] "A boldly daring, splendidly overbearing, high-flying, and

aloft-up-dragging class of higher men, who had first to teach their

century--and it is the century of the _masses_--the conception 'higher

man.'"--_Beyond Good and Evil_, p. 219.

"This man of the future, this tocsin of noon and of the great verdict,

which renders the will again free, who gives back to the world its goal

and to man his hope, this Antichrist and Antinihilist, this conqueror

of God and of Nothingness--_he must one day come_."--_The Genealogy of

Morals_, p. 117.

[11] "The blonde beast that lies at the core of all aristocratic

races."--_The Genealogy of Morals_, p. 42.

"The profound, icy mistrust which the German provokes, as soon as he

arrives at power,--even at the present time,--is always still an

aftermath of that inextinguishable horror with which for whole

centuries Europe has regarded the wrath of the blonde Teuton

beast."--_Ibid._

[12] Friedrich von Bernhardi: born 1849 at St. Petersburg, where his

father Theodor von Bernhardi was a Councillor of the Prussian Legation;

entered a Hussar regiment in 1869; military attaché at Berne in 1881;

in 1897 he was chief of the General Staff of the 16th Army Corps; in

1908 he was appointed commander of the 7th Army Corps; retired in the

following year. He was a distinguished cavalry general, and is

probably the most influential German writer on current

politico-military problems.

[13] Probably not less so upon British policy and inaction. As water

is the result of blending oxygen and hydrogen in certain proportions,

so is the present war the resultant of German militarism and British

anti-militarism in combination.

[14] "Every State has as sovereign the undoubted right to declare war

when it chooses, consequently every State is in the position of being

able to cancel any treaties which have been concluded."--Treitschke,

_Selections_, p. 15.

"It is not only the right, but the moral and political duty of the

statesman to bring about a war."--Bernhardi, _Germany and the Next

War_, p. 41

[15] Towards the end of March 1915 General von Bernhardi published in

the _New York Sun_ an article the object of which was to explain to the

American people how much his previous writings had been misunderstood

and perverted by the malice of the enemy. Long before this date,

however, there was strong presumptive evidence that the distinguished

military author was unfavourably regarded by the Super-men at Berlin.

He had been useful before the war for preparing the Teutonic youth for

Armageddon; but after hostilities began it was discovered that, so far

as neutral opinion was concerned, it would have been better had he been

wholly interdicted from authorship under the national

motto--_verboten_. As to the tenour of imperial communications to the

popular fire-eating publicist during the winter 1914-1915, might we

venture to paraphrase them into the vulgar vernacular as

follows?--"We've got to thank you and your damned books, more than

anything else, for the present mess with America. Get busy, and

explain them all away if you can."--Any one of the labours of Hercules

was easier.

{127}

CHAPTER V

THE STATECRAFT OF A PRIESTHOOD

The thoroughness and efficiency of the Germans are admitted even by

hostile critics. In the practical sphere they have excelled in

military preparations, in the encouragement of industry, and in the

organisation of finance. But they have achieved an even more

remarkable success than any of these; for they have so arranged their

educational system that it is drilled hardly less admirably than their

army.[1] From the primary schools to the universities everything is

ordered, so that the plastic mind of youth is forced into a political

mould which suits the purposes of government. Patriotism of the

pattern approved by the authorities is inculcated directly or

indirectly in every class-room. While thought is left ostentatiously

free in regard to private morals and religious foundations, the duties

of the citizen to the state, the duties of the state to posterity, the

relations of Germany to the outside world, are subjects upon which

independent speculation is not tolerated.

{128}

Even schoolmasters and professors have their ambitions; but unless they

contribute their quota to the support of imperial ideals, their careers

are unlikely to prosper. It is not enough that a lecturer should not

run counter to state policy; he must actively promote its ends before

he can hope to be transferred to a sphere of greater dignity and

influence. Pedagogy is a branch of the Civil Service just as much as

the Treasury or the Public Health Department. Teachers from the lowest

to the highest grades are the stipendiaries of the bureaucracy. If

they render useful services they are promoted. If they fail to render

useful services they are passed over. If they indulge in dangerous

speculations they are sent adrift. Not merely the army, but the whole

German nation, is disciplined, during the period of its impressionable

youth, with the object of inclining its mind to support state policy

through thick and thin.

The schools feed the universities; the universities feed the press, the

learned professions, and the higher grades in industry and finance.

Private conversation, as well as what is published in newspapers,

magazines, and books, bears the impress of the official mint to a

degree unthinkable in England or America, Russia or France. Theories

of politics are devised by ingenious sophists, exactly as the machinery

at Essen is contrived by engineers--for the express purpose of

forwarding Prussian policy. History is twisted and distorted in order

to prepare the way for imperial ambitions by justifying them in advance.

It is a signal triumph for the thoroughness of German methods that all

the thinkers, dreamers, {129} poets, and prophets, with but a few

exceptions, should have been commandeered and set to work thinking,

dreaming, poetising, and prophesying to the glory of the Kaiser, and

his army, and his navy, and his counsellors, and his world policy, and

the conquests and expansion which are entailed therein.

[Sidenote: MOBILISATION OF INTELLECTUALS]

It is somewhat startling, however, to find the intellectuals thus

mobilised, and all but unanimous, on the official side; for hitherto in

history they have rarely agreed among themselves, and the greater part

have usually favoured the Opposition rather than the Government. Nor

does this close alliance between learning and the bureaucracy seem

altogether satisfactory. For thought loses its fine edge when it is

set to cut millstones of state. It loses its fine temper in the red

heat of political controversy. By turning utilitarian it ceases to be

universal; and what is perhaps even worse, it ceases to be free. It

tends more and more to become the mere inventor of things which will

sell at a profit; less and less the discoverer of high principles which

the gods have hidden out of sight. It would hardly be possible to

imagine a more complete reversal of attitude than that which has

occurred in Germany between the beginning of the nineteenth century and

the present time; and though this change may serve admirably the

immediate purposes of the state, it does not augur well for the future

of German thought.

The similarities and contrasts of history are interesting to

contemplate. In the ferment of thought and action which occurred in

France during the generation preceding the battle of Valmy, and that

other which has been going on in Germany in the {130} generation

preceding the battle of the Marne, there are various likenesses and

unlikenesses. In France before the Revolution, as in Germany to-day, a

bureaucracy, responsible solely to the monarch, directed policy and

controlled administration. But in France this bureaucracy was

incompetent, unpractical, and corrupt. Its machinery was clogged with

dead matter of every kind, with prejudices, traditions, and statutes,

many of which had outlived their original purposes. The _Struldbrugs_,

discovered by Gulliver during his voyages, were a race of men whose

mortal souls were incased in immortal bodies. The French monarchy was

of this nature, and the soul of it was long since dead. Inefficiency

was everywhere apparent; and, as a natural consequence, the whole

system had become a butt, at which each brilliant writer in turn

levelled his darts of derision and contempt.

In Germany, although the political mechanism is the same, the

conditions are diametrically the opposite. The bureaucracy and the

monarchy which it supports, have proved themselves highly efficient and

adaptive. The arrangement has worked with a marvellous success. It

has cherished the material, if not the spiritual, well-being of the

people. The wealth-producing and belly-filling activities of the race

have been stimulated to an extent never yet attained by any form of

government, either popular or despotic. Administration has been

honest, thrifty, and singularly free from the usual dull negatives of

officialdom and the pedantries of red tape. In all directions

industrial prosperity has increased, under the fostering care of the

state, by leaps and bounds. Anything more remote from the bankrupt

empire of {131} Louis XVI. it would be impossible to conceive. And as

a natural consequence, brilliant German writers have for the most

part[2] spent their forces of rhetoric and fancy in idealising the

grandeur and nobility of an order of things, under which resources,

comfort, and luxury have expanded with such amazing strides.

[Sidenote: IDEAS OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION]

In the case of France the aim of the intellectuals was to pull down

existing institutions, in that of Germany it has been to bolster them

up, to extend and develop them to their logical conclusions. But the

second were no less agents of destruction than the first. Each alike,

as a condition of success, required that a new order of moral and

political ideas should be set up; each attained a certain measure of

success; and the results which followed were those which usually

follow, when new wine is poured into old bottles.

The ideas of the French Revolution cast themselves into the mould of

republicanism. A picture wholly imaginary and fictitious was drawn of

the institutions of Greece and Rome in ancient days. _Liberty_,

_Equality_, and _Fraternity_ were believed to have been the foundations

of these famous states. Patriots on the banks of the Seine conceived

themselves to be re-incarnations of Aristides and the Gracchi, of

Pericles, of one Brutus or the other--it mattered little which.

Political idealism passed rapidly into a kind of religious fervour.

The German masquerade is very different from this, but it is no less a

masquerade. What covers the new faith, indeed, is not plumage borrowed

from the Greeks and Romans, but habiliments which are supposed to have

clad the heroic forms of ancestral Teutons. The student on his way to

doctor's degree--the {132} intelligent clerk scanning the high-road to

fortune from the eminence of office-stool--dream in their pensive

leisure to emulate the heroes of Asgard, to merit and enjoy the glories

of Valhalla. But the noble shapes and gorgeous colourings in which the

modern young German of honest, sober, and industrious character has

chosen to see his destiny prefigured, are no less imaginary and

fictitious than those others, with which eloquent notaries'-clerks, and

emancipated, unfrocked priests, decked themselves out for the

admiration of the Paris mob. In Germany as in France political

idealism passed into a kind of religious fervour, which inspired men to

a mimicry of old-Wardour-Street shams, and led them to neglect the

development of their own true natures.

During quiet times that stream of events, which we are wont to call

human progress, is occupied incessantly in throwing up dams, of one

sort or another, throughout the world. Tree-trunks and logs, which

have been swept down by former floods of conquest and invasion, jam at

some convenient rocky angle, as the river falls to its normal level.

Against these obstacles the drift and silt of habit, custom, law,

convention, prejudice, and tradition slowly collect, settle, and

consolidate. An embankment is gradually formed, and the waters are

held up behind it ever higher and higher. The tribal pool becomes a

pond or nation; and this again, if conditions remain favourable--for so

long, that is to say, as there are no more raging and destructive

floods,--extends into a lake or inland sea of empire.... "See," cry

the optimists, "see what a fine, smooth, silvery sheet of civilisation,

culture, wealth, happiness, comfort, and {133} what not besides, where

formerly there was but an insignificant torrent brawling in the gorge!"

... But the pessimists, as is their nature, shake their heads, talk

anxiously of the weight of waters which are banking up behind, and of

the unreliable character of the materials out of which the dam has

grown. "Some day," they warn us, "the embankment will burst under the

heavy pressure; or, more likely still, some ignorant, heedless, or

malicious person will begin to fiddle and tamper with the casual

structure; and then what may we expect?"

[Sidenote: RECENT ANXIETIES]

There has been considerable nervousness of late among rulers of nations

as to the soundness of their existing barrages. For the most part,

however, they have concerned themselves with internal dangers--with

watching propagandists of the socialist persuasion--with keeping these

under a kind of benevolent police supervision, and in removing

ostentatiously from time to time the more glaring of their alleged

grievances. This procedure has been quite as noticeable in the case of

autocracies, as in countries which enjoy popular institutions.

Treitschke and Bernhardi--even Nietzsche himself--valued themselves far

more highly as builders-up than as pullers-down. It is always so with

your inspired inaugurators of change. It was so with Rousseau and

those other writers, whose thoughts, fermenting for a generation in the

minds of Frenchmen, brought about the Revolution. The intellectuals of

the eighteenth century, like those of the nineteenth, aimed at getting

rid of a great accumulation of insanitary rubbish. But this was only a

troublesome preliminary, to be hurried through with as quickly as

possible, in order that the much greater {134} work of construction

might proceed upon the cleared site.

Treitschke made a hole in the German dam when he cut an ancient

commonplace in two, and tore out the one half of it. Nietzsche turned

the hole into a much vaster cavity by pulling out the other half.

Bernhardi and the pedantocracy worked lustily at the business, with the

result that a great part of the sticks, stones, and mud of tradition

are now dancing, rumbling, and boiling famously in the flood. Whether

they have injured our dam as well as their own, we are hardly as yet in

a position to judge.

The profounder spirit of Nietzsche realised clearly enough the

absurdity of supposing that the conflicting beliefs and aspirations of

mankind could all be settled and squared in a few bustling

decades--that the contradictions, paradoxes, and antinomies of national

existence could be written off with a few bold strokes of the sword,

and the world started off on the road to perfection, like a brisk

debtor who has purged his insolvency in the Bankruptcy Court. But the

enthusiasm of Treitschke and Bernhardi made them blind to these

considerations. Had not the formula been discovered, which would

overcome every obstacle--that stroke of genius, the famous bisection of

the commonplace? For private conduct, the Sermon on the Mount; for

high statecraft, Machiavelli's _Prince_! Was ever anything simpler,

except perhaps the way of Columbus with the egg?

When we push our examination further, into the means which Germany has

been urged by her great thinkers to employ in preparing for this

premeditated war, for provoking it when the season should be ripe,

{135} and for securing victory and spoils, we are struck more than ever

by the gulf which separates the ideas of the German pedantocracy from

those of the rest of the world. Nor can we fail to be impressed by the

matter-of-fact and businesslike way in which the military and civil

powers have set to work to translate those notions into practice.

[Sidenote: A POLITICAL PRIESTHOOD]

No kind of priesthood has ever yet exercised a great and direct

influence upon national policy without producing calamity. And by an

ill fate, it has always been the nature of these spiritual guides to

clutch at political power whenever it has come within their reach.

Of all classes in the community who are intellectually capable of

having ideas upon public affairs, a priesthood--or what is the same

thing, a pedantocracy--is undoubtedly the most mischievous, if it

succeeds in obtaining power. It matters not a whit whether they

thunder forth their edicts and incitements from church pulpits or

university chairs, whether they carry their sophistical projects up the

back stairs of Catholic King or Lutheran Kaiser, whether, having shaved

their heads and assumed vows of celibacy, they dwell in ancient

cloisters, or, having taken unto themselves wives and begotten

children, they keep house in commonplace villa residences. None of

these differences is essential, or much worth considering. The one

class is as much a priesthood as the other, and the evils which proceed

from the predominance of the one, and the other, are hardly

distinguishable.

They stand ostentatiously aloof from the sordid competitions of worldly

business. They have forsworn, or at any rate forgone, the ordinary

prizes of {136} wealth and position. And for these very reasons they

are ill equipped for guiding practical affairs. Their abstinences are

fatal impediments, and render them apt to leave human nature out of

their reckoning. They are wanting in experience of the difficulties

which beset ordinary men, and of the motives which influence them.

Knowing less of such matters (for all their book learning) than any

other class of articulately-speaking men, they find it by so much the

easier to lay down rules and regulations for the government of the

world.

To a priesthood, whether ecclesiastical or academic, problems of

politics and war present themselves for consideration in an engaging

simplicity. They evolve theories of how people live, of how they ought

to live; and both sets of theories are mainly cobwebs. There is no

place in their philosophy for anything which is illogical or untidy.

Ideas of compromise and give-and-take, are abominations in priestly

eyes--at any rate when they are engaged in contemplation of worldly

affairs. And seeing that the priesthood aspires, nevertheless, to

govern and direct a world which is illogical and needs humouring, there

is nothing wonderful, if when it has achieved power, it should blunder

on disaster in the name of principle, and incite men to cruelties in

the name of humanity. 'Clericalism,' said a French statesman, and

English statesmen have echoed his words--'Clericalism is the enemy.'

And this is right, whether the priesthood be that of Rome or John

Calvin, of economic professors expounding Adam Smith in the interests

of Manchester, or history professors improving upon Treitschke in the

interests of the Hohenzollern dynasty.

{137}

[Sidenote: PRIESTS AND LAWYERS]

Priests and professors when they meddle in politics are always the

same. They sit in their studies or cells, inventing fundamental

principles; building thereon great edifices of reasoned or sentimental

brickwork which splits in the sun and crumbles in the storm.

Throughout the ages, as often as they have left their proper sphere,

they have been subject to the same angry enthusiasms and savage

obstinacies. Their errors of judgment have been comparable only to

their arrogance. Acts of cruelty and treachery, meanness and

dishonour,[3] which would revolt the ordinary German or Englishman,

commend themselves readily, on grounds of sophistry or logic, to these

morbid ascetics, so soon as they begin busying themselves with the

direction of public affairs.

It would be unfair to judge any country by its political professors.

At the same time, if any country is so foolish as to follow such

guides, there is a probability of mischief in national--still more in

international--affairs. For they are as innocent as the lawyers

themselves, of any knowledge of the real insides of things. They

differ of course from the lawyers in many ways. They are ever for

making changes for the sake of symmetry; while the man of law is for

keeping as he is until the last moment; or at any rate until it is

clearly his interest to budge. A priesthood has a burning faith in its

own hand-wrought idols; the lawyer on the contrary, does not go readily

to the stake, does not catch fire easily, being rather of the nature of

asbestos. When lawyers monopolise political power--even when they

merely {138} preponderate, as of late years they have seemed to do more

and more in all democratic countries, whether of the monarchical or

republican type--they invariably destroy by insensible gradations that

which is most worth preserving in man or state, the soul. But they do

not bring on sudden catastrophe as a priesthood does; their method is

to strangle slowly like ivy.

In England, nowadays--indeed ever since the 'eighties, when professors

of Political Economy became discredited as political guides--there are

not many evidences of priestly influence. Certainly there is nothing

of an organised kind. What exists is erratic and incalculable. There

is much clamour; but it is contradictory, spasmodic, and inconstant,

without any serious pretence, either of learning or science, to support

it. Each of our prophets is in business for himself. There is no

tinge of Erastianism about any of them. For the most part they are the

grotesques and _lions comiques_ of the world of letters, who prophesy

standing on their heads, or grinning through horse-collars, and

mistaking always "the twinkling of their own sophisticated minds for

wisdom."

Alliance between a priesthood and a bureaucracy tends gradually to

produce, as in the case of China, an oppressive uniformity--not unlike

that aimed at by the more advanced socialists--where every fresh

innovation is a restriction hampering the natural bent. On the other

hand an alliance between a priesthood and a military caste--especially

when the bureaucracy is ready to act in sympathy--is one of the

commonest causes of international convulsions.

{139}

[Sidenote: PRIESTS AND SOLDIERS]

Oddly enough, the soldier, who affects to despise men of words and

make-believes, and who on this account has an instinctive dislike and

distrust of the lawyer--so violent indeed that it often puts him in the

wrong, and leaves him at the mercy of the object of his contempt--is

dangerously apt to become the tool of anything which bears a likeness

to Peter the Hermit. It is not really the lawyer's confidence in the

efficacy of words which revolts the soldier, nearly so much as the kind

of words used, the temperament of him who uses them, and the character

of the make-believes which it is sought to establish. The

unworldliness, simplicity, idealism, and fervour of the priesthood make

strong appeals to a military caste, which on the contrary is repelled

by what it conceives to be the cynicism, opportunism, and self-seeking

of lawyer statecraft.

More especially is it difficult for the military caste to resist the

influence of the priesthood when, as in Germany of recent years, they

have insisted upon giving the warrior the most important niche in their

temple, and on burning incense before him day and night. Working

industriously in their studies and laboratories they have found moral

justification for every course, however repugnant to established ideas,

which may conceivably make it easier to attain victory and conquest.

The soldier might have scruples about doing this or that; but when he

is assured by inspired intellectuals, that what would best serve his

military ends is also the most moral course of action, how can

he--being a man of simple mind--presume to doubt it; though he may

occasionally shudder as he proceeds to put it into execution?

{140}

German thoroughness is an admirable quality, but even thoroughness may

be carried to extremes which are absurd, or something worse.

No nation has a right to complain if another chooses to drill armies,

build fleets, accumulate stores of treasure, weapons, and material; nor

is it incumbent upon any nation to wear its heart upon its sleeve, or

to let the whole world into its secrets, military or political. In so

far as Germany has acted upon these principles she was well within her

rights. As a result we have suffered heavily; but we must blame

ourselves for being ill-prepared; we have no justification for

complaining because Germany was well-prepared.

There are some kinds of preparation, however, which it does not seem

possible to justify, if the world is to consist as heretofore of a

large number of independent states, between whose citizens it is

desirable to maintain a certain friendliness and freedom of

intercourse. German activities in various directions, for many years

before war broke out, make one wonder what state of things was

contemplated by German statesmen, as likely to prevail when war should

be over. What, for instance, is to be the status of Germans visiting

or residing in other countries--seeking to trade with them--to borrow

money from them--to interchange with them the civilities of ordinary

life, or those more solemn courtesies which are practised by societies

of learning and letters? Will the announcement _civis Germanicus sum_

be enough henceforth to secure the stranger a warm welcome and respect?

Or will such revelation of his origin be more likely to lead to his

speedy re-embarkation for the land of his nativity?

{141}

[Sidenote: GERMAN AGENCIES]

Spying has always been practised since the beginning of time; but it

has rarely been conducted in such a manner as to produce general

uneasiness, or any sensible restraint upon private relations.

Logically, it would be unfair to condemn recent German enterprises in

this direction, seeing that she has only extended an accepted nuisance

on to a much vaster scale. But here again logic is a misleading guide.

There is something in the very scale of German espionage which has

changed the nature of this institution. It has grown into a huge

organised industry for the debauching of vain, weak, and greedy

natures; for turning such men--for the most part without their being

aware of it--into German agents. The result of Teutonic thoroughness

in this instance is a domestic intrusion which is odious, as well as a

national menace which cannot be disregarded. Many of these hostile

agencies may surely be termed treacherous, seeing that they have aimed,

under the guise of friendly intercourse, at forwarding schemes of

invasion and conquest.

We are familiar enough with the vain purse-proud fellow, who on the

strength of a few civil speeches from the Kaiser--breathing friendship

and the love of peace--has thenceforward flattered himself that his

mission in life was to eradicate suspicion of German intentions from

the minds of his British fellow-countrymen. This is the unconscious

type of agent, useful especially in sophisticated circles, and among

our more advanced politicians of anti-militarist sympathies.

Then we have the naturalised, or unnaturalised, magnate of finance or

industry, to whom business prosperity is the great reality of life,

politics and {142} patriotism being by comparison merely things of the

illusory sort. It would cause him no very bitter anguish of heart to

see England humiliated and her Empire dissolved, providing his own

cosmopolitan undertakings continued to thrive undisturbed by horrid

war. He, also, has very likely been the recipient of imperial

suavities. In addition to this, however, he has been encouraged to

imagine that he enjoys in a peculiar degree the confidence of the

German Foreign Office. The difficulties which so shrewd a fellow must

have in believing in the innocence of German intentions must be

considerable at the outset; but they are worn away by the constant

erosion of his private interests. Britain must not cross

Germany:--that is his creed in a nutshell. This is the semi-conscious

type of agent; and he carries great weight in business circles, and

even sometimes in circles much higher than those frequented by the

money-changers.

We may resent such influences as these, now that we have become more or

less sensible of the effect which they have had during recent years in

hindering our preparations for defence; but here we cannot fairly

charge Germany with any breach of custom and tradition. We must blame

ourselves for having given heed to their counsellors. But it is

different when we come to such things as the wholesale corruption of

the subjects of friendly nations--a network of careful intrigue for the

promotion of rebellion--lavish subsidies and incitements for the

purpose of fostering Indian unrest, Egyptian discontent, and South

African treason--the supply of weapons and munitions of war on the

shortest notice, and most favourable terms, to any one and every one

who {143} seems inclined to engage in civil war in Ireland or elsewhere.

[Sidenote: GERMAN METHODS AT WORK]

The whole of this procedure has been justified in advance and advocated

in detail by Bernhardi and the priesthood. Belgium, France, Russia,

and Britain are doubtless peculiarly alive to the iniquity of these

practices, for the reason that their moral judgment has been sharpened

by personal suffering. But they do not denounce the system solely

because they themselves have been injured by it, but also because it

seems to them to be totally at variance with all recent notions

regarding the comity of nations. If we may use such an old-fashioned

term, it appears to us to be wrong.

If methods such as these are henceforth to be practised by the world in

general, must not all international communion become impossible, as

much in time of peace as during a war? Indeed must not human existence

itself become almost intolerable? Friendliness, hospitality,

courtesies of every sort, between men and women of one country and

those of another, must cease absolutely, if the world should become a

convert to these German doctrines. Travel must cease; for no one likes

to be stripped naked and searched at every frontier. Trade and

financial operations must also be restricted, one would imagine, to

such an extent that ultimately they will wither and die.

And if the world in general after the war is ended does not become a

convert to these German doctrines of treacherous preparation, made in

friendly territories during time of peace, what then will be its

attitude towards Germany and the Germans; for they presumably have no

intention of abandoning these {144} practices? It is an unpleasant

problem, but it will have to be faced sooner or later.

For obviously, although every sensible man believes, and many of us

know by actual experience, that the instincts of Germans, in all

private relations, are as loyal and honourable as those of most other

races which inhabit the earth, no nation can afford any longer to have

dealings with them on equal terms, if they have decided to allow their

instincts to be used and abused, over-ridden and perverted, by a

bureaucracy whose ideal is thoroughness, and by a priesthood which has

invented a new system of morals to serve a particular set of ends. Not

only the allied nations which are at present at war with Germany, but

any country whose interests may conceivably, at any future time, come

into conflict with those of that far-sighted empire, will be forced in

self-defence to take due precautions. It is clear enough that more

efficacious means than mere scraps of naturalisation paper will be

needed to secure mankind against the abuse of its hospitality by

Teutonic theorists.

[Sidenote: THE GERMAN CREED]

The whole of this strange system, those methods which, even after

somewhat painful experience of their effects, we are still inclined in

our less reflective moments to regard as utterly incredible--is it

possible to summarise them in a few sentences? What are the accepted

maxims, the orthodox formulas of Prussian statecraft?

Power, more power, world-power; these according to German theory, as

well as practice, should be the dominant principles of the state.

When a nation desires territories belonging to its neighbours, let it

take them, if it is strong enough. {145} No further justification is

needed than mere appetite for possession, and the strength to satisfy

it.

War is in itself a good thing and not a bad. Like a purge, or a course

of the waters of Aix, it should be taken, every half-century or so, by

all nations which aim at preserving the vigour of their constitutions.

During the intervening periods the chief duty of the state is to

prepare for war, so that when it comes, victory, and with it benefits

of the material, as well as of the spiritual sort, may be secured.

No means which will help to secure victory are immoral, whether in the

years preceding the outbreak of hostilities, or afterwards, when the

war is in full course. If the state, aided by its men of science,

could find any safe and secret means of sending a plague, as an advance

guard, to ravage the enemy, where is the objection? The soul of a

Prussian soldier might revolt against this form of warfare, but at what

point would it conflict with the teachings of the priesthood? Nor can

we imagine, were the thing possible, that the bureaucracy would allow

itself to be hampered by any scruples.

As to the declaration of war, let it be made when the state is in a

strong position and its prey in a weak one. This is the all-important

consideration. The actual pretext is only a secondary matter, though

worthy of attention for the effect it may have on the action of

neutrals. And as war is a game of chance, it is wise and right to

'correct fortune,' so far as this can be accomplished during years of

peace and under the cloak of amity, by the aid of spies, secret agents,

accomplices, traitors, rebels, and what not besides.

The state which has evolved this system and laid {146} down these

rules, without the least attempt at secrecy or concealment, is the most

efficient machine of the fighting and administrative kind at present

existing in the world--perhaps which has ever existed in the world.

But as you increase the size, power, and complexity of a machine there

are obvious dangers unless you can also increase the calibre of the men

who have to drive and direct it. This is a much more difficult problem

than the other; and there is no evidence to show that it has been

solved in the case of Germany. The more powerful the machine, the

greater is apt to be the disaster if it is mishandled.

In history the blunders of bureaucracy are a by-word. They have been

great and many, even when, as in Germany to-day, the bureaucracy is in

the full vigour of its age, and in the first flower of uprightness; for

a bureaucracy, in order to retain its efficiency, must remain

incorruptible, and that is one of the hardest things to secure.

As for the priesthoods, if they are to be of any use, their faith must

burn brightly. And the faith of a priesthood is very apt to burn

itself out--very apt also to set fire to other things during the

process; even to the edifice of popular virtue and the imperial purple

itself, which things--unlike the Phoenix, the Salamander, and the

Saint--are none the better or stronger for being burned.

We are constantly being told by high authorities that the moral

objective of the present war is 'to put down militarism,' and 'abolish

it' off the face of the earth. There are few of us who do not wish

that this aim may be crowned with success; but militarism is a tough

weed to kill, and something {147} more than the mere mowing of it down

by some outside scythesman will be necessary, one imagines, in order to

get rid of it.

[Sidenote: MAIN OBJECT OF THE WAR]

The true moral objective of the war is something much more important

than this. A blacker evil than militarism is that violation of private

trust and public honour which is known as the Prussian System, and

which has recently been 'marching through rapine, to the

disintegration,' not of a single nation, or group of nations, but of

the whole fabric of human society, including its own. It is an

elaborate contrivance of extreme artificiality, a strange perversion of

the nature of man. These are its inherent weaknesses; and fortunately,

by reason of them, it is more vulnerable to hard blows than militarism

which, with all its vices, and extravagancies, is rooted in instincts

which are neither depraved nor ignoble.

Militarism might continue to thrive under adversity, and after the

heaviest defeat, as it has done in times past; but the life of the

Prussian System--that joint invention of the most efficient bureaucracy

in the world, and of a priesthood whose industry can only be matched by

its sycophancy and conceit--hangs upon the thread of success. Like the

South Sea Bubble, or any of those other impostures of the financial

sort, which have temporarily beguiled the confidence of mankind, it

must collapse utterly under the shock of failure. It depends entirely

on credit, and its powers of recuperation are nil. When its assets are

disclosed, the characters of its promoters will be understood. The

need, therefore, is to bring it at all costs to a complete

demonstration of failure.

{148}

We have been urged by our own anti-militarists not to inflict suffering

and humiliation on Germany. But this is not a matter of the slightest

importance one way or the other. It has but little to do with the

issue which it is our business to settle, if we have the good fortune

to come out victorious from the present struggle. To set up the

suffering and humiliation of Germany as the object of high policy would

cover the Allies with contempt; but to shrink from such things, if they

should happen to stand between the Allies and the utter moral

bankruptcy of the Prussian System, would overwhelm them with a burden

far heavier and more shameful than contempt.

[1] "We may declare that the problem of training in arms and turning to

real account the energies of the nation was first undertaken in

thorough earnestness by Germany. _We possess in our army a

characteristic, necessary continuation of the school-system_. For many

men there is no better means of training; for them drilling, compulsory

cleanliness, and severe discipline are physically and morally

indispensable in a time like ours, which unchains all

spirits."--Treitschke, _Selections_, pp. 106-107.

[2] Nietzsche is one of the rare exceptions.

[3] Cf. Professor Kuno Meyer, _Times_, December 24, 1914, and March 8,

1915.

{149}

CHAPTER VI

THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE

A German might fairly contend that British criticism of his moral ideas

and political system is tainted throughout by ignorance and prejudice,

and that all our talk of autocracy, bureaucracy, pedantocracy, military

caste, and sham constitutionalism is merely an attempt to avoid the

real issue by calling things, which we happen to dislike, by bad names.

Political institutions, he might insist, must be judged by their

fruits. If this test were applied, Germany in his opinion would have

nothing to fear in any comparison.

"We Germans," writes a correspondent, the Freiherr von Hexenküchen,[1]

"are not inferior in intelligence or education to any other race. Had

this been so, we could never have reached, in so short a period as four

decades, the proud position which we now occupy in science, invention,

manufacture, commerce, finance, and administration.[2] {150}

Consequently, if we are well content to live under the institutions we

possess, this cannot be put down either to our want of enterprise or to

the dulness of our understandings.

"Our people have already shown that they are willing to fight and die

for these very institutions which you Englishmen affect to regard with

so much contempt. Possibly your people are equally willing to fight

and die for theirs. I do not deny this; but it is not yet proved; it

remains to be proved.

"I do not assert that your people are inferior to mine in their

readiness to fight and die when they are actually faced with a great

national danger. But I do claim that mine are superior to yours in the

constancy of their devotion to duty. For a hundred years past--not

only in periods of stress and danger, which stirred the national

imagination, but equally in times of peace and prosperity, which always

tend to encourage the growth of comfort and the love of ease--each

succeeding generation has been found willing to train itself in the use

of arms, so as to be prepared, if occasion should arise, to defend the

Fatherland.

"When the present war broke out was there a firmer loyalty or a more

patriotic response to the call to arms among your people or among mine?

Will your people fight and suffer more gladly for their 'democratic'

ideals than mine will for their Kaiser and Fatherland? ... Surely, upon

your own principles no comparison should be possible between the warmth

of your devotion and the tepidity of ours.

"Is our system really so reactionary and mechanical as you imagine? In

an age which has learned {151} as its special lesson the advantages, in

ordinary business affairs of life, of organisation, thoroughness, long

views, reticence, and combined effort, guided by a strong central

control, is it reaction, or is it progress, to aim at applying the same

principles to the greatest, most complex, and infinitely most important

of all businesses--that of government itself? Can a nation hope to

survive which refuses, in the name of freedom, to submit to control in

these respects, if it should be faced by competition with another,

which has been wise enough to employ quiet experts instead of

loquacious amateurs--any more than a cotton mill could escape

bankruptcy were it managed on a system of party government?

"Our civil service, which you are pleased to describe as a Bureaucracy,

is distinguished among all others existing at the present time, by the

calibre of its members, by its efficiency and honesty, by its poverty,

and not less by the honour in which it is held notwithstanding its

poverty. You laugh at our love for calling men, and also their wives,

by the titles of their various offices--Herr this and Frau that, from

the humblest inspector of drains to the Imperial Chancellor himself!

And no doubt there is a ludicrous side to this practice. But it marks

at least one important thing--that membership of our civil service is

regarded as conferring honour. So far, we have succeeded in

maintaining public officials of all grades in higher popular respect

than men who devote their lives to building up private fortunes, and

also to those others who delight and excel in interminable debate.

"You are used to boast, and I daresay rightly {152} of the personal

honesty and pecuniary disinterestedness of your politicians; and you

assume as a matter of course that your civil servants, with such high

standards and examples ever before their eyes, are likewise

incorruptible. We invert this order. With us the honour of our civil

servants is the chief thing; we assume that our politicians must follow

suit. They are probably as upright as your own, thanks partly to

tradition, but also to the vigilance of their superiors, the

professionals, who carry on the actual business of government. With

you the fame of the showy amateur fills the mouths of the public. We,

on the contrary, exalt the expert, the man who has been trained to the

job he undertakes. In so doing we may be reactionaries and you may be

progressives; but the progress of Germany since 1870--a progress in

which we are everywhere either already in front of you, or else

treading closely on your heels--does not seem to furnish you with a

conclusive argument.

"As for what you call our Pedantocracy, meaning thereby our professors

and men of letters, it is true that these exercise a great influence

upon public opinion. We have always respected learning and thought.

It is in the German nature so to do. I admit that our learned ones are

rather too much inclined to imagine, that because they are students of

theory, they are therefore qualified to engage in practice. They are

apt to offer their advice and service officiously, and occasionally in

a ridiculous manner. But, if my recollection of the English newspapers

be correct, this is no more so with us than with you. There is

apparently something in the professorial nature which impels men of

this {153} calling to the drafting of manifestoes and the signing of

round-robins in times of excitement. They may be officious and absurd,

but they are not wholly despicable, since they act thus quite as much

from earnestness as from vanity. If our academicians on such occasions

mislead more people than your own it is due to their virtues, to the

greater zeal and success with which they have won the confidence of

their former pupils.[3]

[Sidenote: THE MILITARY CASTE]

"You are fond of sneering at our Military Caste and attribute to it the

most malign influence upon public affairs. But there again, believe

me, you exaggerate. Our officers are undoubtedly held in great

respect, even in some awe. And the reason is that they are known to be

brave, and like those you call the bureaucracy, to have preferred

comparative poverty in the public service to the pursuit of riches. To

say that they have no influence upon policy would of course be absurd.

It is inevitable that in the present state of the world, soldiers will

always have great influence in certain departments of public affairs.

This must be so in any country {154} which is not plunged in dreams.

For it is their business to guarantee national security, and to keep

watch over the growth of military strength among the neighbours and

rivals of Germany. If the general staff foresees dangers, and can give

reasonable grounds for its anticipations, it is clear that the military

view must carry weight with the Kaiser and his ministers. And surely

there can be no question that this is right.

"The officers of the German Army are a caste, if you like to put it

that way. But in every form of government under the sun, unless

conceivably in some tiny oriental despotism, the predominance of a

certain caste, or the competition between different castes, is

absolutely essential to the working of the machinery.

"It is not regrettable in our opinion if a caste, which has

considerable weight in public affairs, is a manly one, contemptuous of

wealth and sophistry, ready always to risk its own life for the faith

which is in it. The influence of a military caste may have its

drawbacks; but at any rate it has kept the peace in Germany for not far

short of half a century--kept it successfully until, as some people

have thought, the professors acquired too large a share of power.

"Is it so certain, moreover, that the lawyer caste, the

self-advertising caste, and the financial caste are not all of them a

great deal worse, even a great deal more dangerous to peace? Is a

country any more likely to be safe, happy, and prosperous under the

régime of a talking caste--of windbags resourcefully keeping their

bellows full of air, and wheedling the most numerous with transparent

{155} falsehoods--than where civil servants of tried wisdom and

experience are responsible for carrying on affairs of state, aided at

their high task by sober military opinion?[4]

"As for our Kaiser, whom you regard as a crafty and ambitious tyrant,

he appears in our view as the incarnation of patriotic duty, burdened

though not overwhelmed by care--a lover of peace, so long as peace may

be had with honour and safety; but if this may not be, then a stern,

though reluctant, drawer of the sword. It is true that the Kaiser's

government is in many important respects a purely personal government.

His is the ultimate responsibility for high policy. He fulfils the

function in our system of that strong central power, without which the

most ingeniously constructed organisation is but impotence.

[Sidenote: GERMAN SELF-KNOWLEDGE]

"The German people are ahead of the English and the Americans in

self-knowledge; for they realise that there are many things

appertaining to government, which cannot be discussed in the

newspapers, or on the platform, any more than the policy and conduct of

a great business can be made known in advance to the staff, and to

trade competitors all over the world. And so, believing the Kaiser's

government to be honest, capable, and devoted to the public weal, the

German people trust it without reservation to decide when action shall

be taken in a variety of spheres.

"This system of ours which is founded in reason, and in experience of

modern conditions, and which {156} is upheld by the unfaltering

confidence of a great people, you are wont to condemn as tyrannical and

reactionary. But can democracy stand against it?--Democracy infirm of

purpose, jealous, grudging, timid, changeable, unthorough, unready,

without foresight, obscure in its aims, blundering along in an age of

lucidity guided only by a faltering and confused instinct! Given

anything like an equal contest, is it conceivable that such an

undisciplined chaos can prevail against the Hohenzollern Empire?

"Of late your newspapers have been busily complaining of what they call

'German lies,' 'boastfulness,' and 'vulgar abuse.' They have taunted

our government with not daring to trust the people. Our Headquarters

bulletins have been vigorously taken to task by the Allies on these and

other grounds.

"But all nations will acclaim their victories louder than they will

trumpet their defeats. This is in human nature. No official

communiqué will ever be a perfect mirror of truth. It will never give

the whole picture, but only a part; and by giving only a part it will

often mislead. Were we to believe literally what the various

governments have hitherto given out as regards their respective

advances, the Germans by this time might perhaps have been at Moscow in

the East and somewhere about the Azores in the West. But by the same

token the Russians should have been on the Rhine and the French and

English Allies at Berlin.

"I read your newspapers, and I read our own. I do not think our

journalists, though they do their best, can fairly claim to excel yours

in the contest {157} of boastfulness and vulgar abuse. And as regards

the utterances of responsible public men in our two countries, can you

really contend that we Germans are more open to the reproach of

vainglorious and undignified speech than the British? Our Kaiser

denies having used the words, so often attributed to him in your press,

about 'General French's contemptible little army,' and in Germany we

believe his denial. But even if he did in fact utter this expression,

is it not quite as seemly and restrained as references to 'digging rats

out of a hole'--as applied to our gallant navy--or to that later

announcement from the same quarter which was recently addressed to the

Mayor of Scarborough about 'baby-killers'? Such expressions are

regrettable, no doubt, but not of the first importance. They are a

matter of temperament. An ill-balanced, or even a very highly-strung

nature, will be betrayed into blunders of this sort more readily than

the phlegmatic person, or one whose upbringing has been in circles

where self-control is the rule of manners.

[Sidenote: TRUST IN THE PEOPLE]

"But what puzzles us Germans perhaps more than any of your other

charges against us is, when you say that our rulers do not trust the

people as the British Government does.

"You accuse our War Office of publishing accounts of imaginary

victories to revive our drooping confidence, and of concealing actual

disasters lest our country should fall into a panic of despondency.

There was surely nothing imaginary about the fall of Liège, Namur,

Maubeuge, Laon, or La Fere. The engagements before Metz, at Mons,

Charleroi, and Amiens, the battles of Lodz and Lyck, were {158} not

inconsiderable successes for German arms, or at the very least for

German generalship. The victory of Tannenberg was among the greatest

in history, reckoning in numbers alone. Our government made no secret

of the German retirement--retreat if you prefer the term--from the

Marne to the Aisne, or of that other falling back after the first

attempt on Warsaw. Naturally they laid less emphasis on reverses than

on conquests, but what government has ever acted otherwise? Certainly

not the French, or the Russian, or your own. And what actual disasters

have we concealed? In what respect, as regards the conduct of this

war, have we, the German people, been trusted less than yours?

"I am especially interested, I confess, as a student of British

politics, in this matter of 'trusting the people.' All your great

writers have led me to believe that here lies the essential difference

between your system and ours, and that the great superiority of yours

to ours is demonstrated in the confidence which your statesmen never

hesitate to place in the wisdom, fortitude, and patriotism of the

people. Frankly, I do not understand it. Trust must surely have some

esoteric meaning when applied to your populace which foreigners are

unable to apprehend. I can discover no other sense in your phrase

about 'trusting the people,' than that they are trusted not to find out

their politicians. It certainly cannot be believed that you trust your

people to hear the truth; for if so why has your government practised

so rigorous an economy of this virtue, doling it out very much as we

have lately been doing with our wheat and potatoes?

{159}

[Sidenote: THE BRITISH PRESS BUREAU]

"Has your government not concealed actual disaster--concealed it from

their own people, though from no one else; for all the world was on the

broad grin? Everybody knew of your misfortune save a certain large

portion of the British public. The motive of your government could not

have been to hide it away from the Germans, or the Austrians, or from

neutrals, for the illustrated papers all over the globe, even in your

own colonies, contained pictures reproduced from photographs of the

occurrence. It was only possible to muzzle the press and blindfold the

people of the United Kingdom, and these things your government did;

acting no doubt very wisely.

"Again after the great German victory over the Russians at Tannenberg

in September last, an official bulletin of simple and conspicuous

candour was published at Petrograd which confirmed in most of the . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Why did your Press Bureau during the heavy fighting from the middle of

October to the middle of November persist in maintaining that 'the

British are still gaining ground.' The British resistance from the

beginning to the end of the four weeks' battle round Ypres is not

likely to be forgotten by our German soldiers, still less to be

belittled by them. {160} It was surely a great enough feat of arms to

bear the light of truth. But. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . .

"But is the same true of the British people? Can they be trusted to

bear the light of truth?

"You cannot wonder if we Germans, and for that matter the whole world,

have drawn certain conclusions from these and other incidents. We do

not doubt that your ministers have acted wisely in suppressing bad

tidings; but why should they have taken all those pains and endured the

derision, while incurring the distrust, of foreign countries--a

material injury, mind you, and not merely a sentimental one--unless

they had known, only too well, that publication of this or that piece

of news would have too painfully affected the nerves of your people?

Concealment of checks, reverses, and disasters which had not already

become known to the Austrians and ourselves might have served a useful

military purpose; but what purpose except that of a sedative for

British public opinion could be served by the concealment of such

matters when we, your enemies, knew them already? Have you ever

thought of asking your American friends in what order they would place

the candour of the official communications which emanate from Berlin,

Petrograd, Paris, and London?

"Shortly before Christmas one of your legal ministers, who, I

understand, is specially responsible for looking after the Press

Bureau, explained to the House of Commons the principles by which he

had been guided in the suppression of news and comment. He should

refuse, he said, to publish any criticism {161} which might tend to

disturb popular confidence in the Government, or which might cause the

people of England to think that their affairs were in a really serious

state. On practical grounds there is no doubt something to be said for

such a policy; but (will you tell me?) has any autocratic government

ever laid down a more drastic rule for blindfolding the people in order

to preserve its own existence?[5]

[Sidenote: BRITISH PATRIOTISM]

"Pondering upon these things, I scratch my head and marvel what you can

possibly have had in yours, when you used to assure us that the

surpassing merit of the English political system was that it trusted

the people, the inherent weakness of ours, the Austrian, and the

Russian that they did not.

"Your Prime Minister, speaking in the early autumn, thus adjured the

men of Wales:--'Be worthy of those who went before you, and leave to

your children the richest of all inheritances, the memory of fathers

who, in a great cause, put self-sacrifice before ease, and honour above

life itself.' These are noble words, of Periclean grandeur. But have

they met with a general response? Are these sentiments prevalent

outside government circles, among those--the bulk of your people--who

do not come under the direct influence of ministerial inspiration and

example? If so, why then {162} have your rulers not screwed up their

courage to call for national service? Why do they still continue to

depend for their recruits upon sensational advertisements, newspaper

puffs, oratorical entreaties, and private influence of a singularly

irregular sort?

"Is not this the reason?--Your government is afraid--even in this great

struggle, where (as they put it) your future existence as a nation is

at stake--that the English people--or at any rate so large a proportion

of them, as if rendered uncomfortable could create a political

disturbance--is not even yet prepared to make the necessary sacrifices.

And so, to the amazement of us Germans, you let the older men, with

families dependent on them, go forth to the war, urged on by a high

sense of duty, while hundreds of thousands of young unmarried men are

still allowed to stay at home.

[Sidenote: COMPARISON OF RECRUITING]

"You are still, it would appear, enamoured of your voluntary system.

You have not yet abandoned your belief that it is the duty of the man,

who possesses a sense of duty, to protect the skin, family, and

property of the man who does not. To us this seems a topsy-turvy

creed, and not more topsy-turvy than contemptible. In Germany and

France--where for generations past the doctrine of private sacrifice

for the public weal is ingrained, and has been approved in principle

and applied in practice with unfaltering devotion--a 'voluntary' system

might conceivably have some chance of providing such an army as you are

in search of. But to the United Kingdom surely it is singularly

inapplicable? Let me illustrate my meaning by a comparison.

{163}

"Our Kaiser in his New Year's message--which in Germany we all read

with enthusiasm, and considered very noble and appropriate--summed up

the military situation by saying that after five months' hard and hot

fighting the war was still being waged almost everywhere off German

soil, and on the enemies' territories. And he summed up the domestic

situation by saying (and this, believe me, is true) that our nation

stands in unexampled harmony, prepared to sacrifice its heart's blood

for the defence of the Fatherland. Another three months have passed

away, and these statements still hold good.

"The point to which I chiefly wish to call your attention is one of

numbers, and I will take my estimates of numbers from your own most

famous newspaper experts.

"Your claim, as I understand it, is that on New Year's Day 1915 you

had--exclusive of Indian troops and Dominion contingents--between

2,000,000 and 2,500,000 men training and in the field.

"Germany alone (here again I quote your English experts), without

reckoning Austria, has actually put into the field during the past five

months 5,000,000 men. Of these it is stated by your newspapers that

she has lost in round figures 1,500,000, who have either been killed,

or taken prisoners, or are too severely wounded to return as yet to the

fighting line. But in spite of this depletion, your military

statisticians tell us that Germany and her ally, at New Year's Day,

still outnumbered the Allies on both the Eastern and the Western

frontier.

"The same high authorities tell us further, that {164} during this

period of five months, the German Government has called upon the civil

population, has appealed to able-bodied men who had previously been

exempt from military service, and that by this means it has obtained,

and has been engaged in training, arming, and equipping another

4,000,000 or 4,500,000 who, it is anticipated, will become available

for war purposes in new formations, during the spring and summer of the

present year.

"Our Government, therefore, according to your own account, has not been

afraid to ask the civil population to serve, and this is the response.

Does it look as if the national spirit had been quenched under our

autocratic system?

"Out of our whole population of sixty-five millions we have apparently

raised for military service on land and naval service at sea, between

9,000,000 and 11,000,000 men since this war began. Out of your whole

population of forty-five millions you have succeeded in raising for

these same purposes only something between 2,000,000 and 2,500,000 men.

And in your case, be it observed, in order to attract recruits, you

have offered good wages and munificent separation allowances; while in

our case men serve without pay.

"This numerical comparison is worth carrying a stage further. Germany

and her ally have between them a total population of 115,000,000. The

United Kingdom (including the people of European stock who inhabit the

various Dominions), France, Russia, Belgium, Servia, and Montenegro

number in round figures about 280,000,000. Roughly speaking, these are

odds of seven to three against us. And I am leaving out of account all

the non-European races--the {165} Turks on the one side, the Japanese

and the Indians on the other. If these were included the odds would be

much heavier.

"And yet our Kaiser spoke but the simple truth, when he told us on New

Year's Day that, after five months of war, the German armies were

almost everywhere on the territories of their enemies. We are not only

keeping you back and defying all your efforts to invade us; but like

the infant Hercules, we have gripped you by your throats, and were

holding you out at arm's length!

[Sidenote: METHODS OF RECRUITING]

"I do not of course pretend to look at this matter except from the

German standpoint; but is there any flaw in my reasoning, is there

anything at all unfair, if I thus sum up my conclusions?--By Midsummer

next--after stupendous efforts of the oratorical and journalistic

kind--after an enormous amount of shouting, music-hall singing, cinema

films, and showy advertising of every description--after making great

play with the name and features of a popular field-marshal, in a manner

which must have shocked both his natural modesty and soldierly

pride--after all this you expect, or say you expect, that you will

possess between two and two-and-a-half millions of men trained, armed,

equipped, and ready to take the field.

"As against this, during the same period, and out of the less military

half of our male population, without any shouting or advertising to

speak of, we shall have provided approximately double that number. We

have raised these new forces quietly, without any fuss, and without a

word of protest from any of our people. We are training them without

any serious difficulty. We are arming {166} them, equipping them,

clothing them, and housing them without any difficulty at all.

"To conclude this interesting contrast, may I ask you--is it true, as

the French newspapers allege, that you are about to invite, or have

already invited, your Japanese Allies to send some portion of their

Army to European battlefields? With what face can you make this appeal

when you have not yet called upon your own people to do, what every

other people engaged in the present struggle, has already done?

"After you have pondered upon this strange and startling contrast, will

you still hold to the opinion that the German system--which you have

affected to despise, on the ground that it does not rest upon what you

are pleased to term 'a popular basis'--is at any point inferior to your

own in its hold upon the hearts of the people?

"What is meant by the phrase--'a popular basis'? Is it something

different from the support of the people, the will of the people, the

devotion of the people? And if it is different, is it better--judging,

that is, by its results in times of trouble--or is it worse?"

So the cultured Freiherr, watching democracy at work in Britain, its

ancient home, concludes with this question--"Is this timid, jealous,

and distracted thing possessed of any real faith in itself; and if so,

will it fight for its faith to the bitter end? Is the British system

one which even the utmost faith in it can succeed in propping up? Does

it possess any inherent strength; or is it merely a thing of

paste-board and make-believe, fore-ordained to perish?"

[1] This letter, which is dated April 1, 1915, arrived at its

destination (via Christiania and Bergen) about ten days later. It had

not the good fortune, however, to escape the attentions of the Censor,

the ravages of whose blacking-brush will be noted in the abrupt

termination of sundry paragraphs.

[2] "The empires which during the past forty years have made the

greatest relative material progress are undoubtedly Germany and

Japan--neither of them a democracy, but both military states."

[3] It is not quite clear to what incidents the Freiherr is referring.

He may be thinking of a certain round-robin which appeared a few days

before the war, giving a most handsome academic testimonial of humanity

and probity to the German system; or he may have in mind a later

manifestation in February last, when there suddenly flighted into the

correspondence columns of the _Nation_ a 'gaggle' of university geese,

headed appropriately enough by a Professor of Political Economy, by

name Pigou, who may be taken as the type of that peculiarly British

product, the unemotional sentimentalist. To this 'gaggle' of the

heavier fowls there succeeded in due course a 'glory' of poetical and

literary finches, twittering the same tune--the obligation on the

Allies not to inflict suffering and humiliation on Germany--on Germany,

be it remembered, as yet unbeaten, though this was rather slurred over

in their spring-song of lovingkindness. The Freiherr, plunged in his

heathen darkness, no doubt still believed Germany to be not only

unbeaten but victorious, and likely to continue on the same course. He

must therefore have been somewhat puzzled by so much tender concern on

the part of our professors, etc. for sparing his feelings at the end of

the war.

[4] Comment has already been made on the difficulty each nation has in

understanding the spirit of the institutions of its neighbours. If

this is borne in mind these depreciatory references of the Freiherr may

be forgiven.

[5] I have had considerable difficulty in discovering the basis of this

extraordinary charge. It seems to consist of the following passage

from a speech by Sir Stanley Buckmaster, the Solicitor-General and

Chairman of the Press Bureau on November 12, 1914. It is distressing

to see how far national prejudice is apt to mislead a hostile critic

like the Freiherr von Hexenküchen: "Criticism of the Government, or of

members of the Government, is not that which I have ever stopped,

except when such criticism is of such a character that it might destroy

public confidence in the Government, which at this moment is charged

with the conduct of the war, or might in any way weaken the confidence

of the people in the administration of affairs, or otherwise cause

distress or disturbance amongst people in thinking their affairs were

in a really serious state."

{167}

CHAPTER VII

THE CONFLICT OF SYSTEMS AND IDEAS

The Freiherr's discourse raises a large number of questions, some of

them unarguable. Others again are too much so; for if once started

upon, argument with regard to them need never end. Some of his

contentions have already been dealt with in previous chapters; some on

the other hand, such as the British methods of recruiting, will be

considered later on. It must, however, be admitted that his taunts and

criticisms do not all rebound with blunted points from our shield of

self-complacency; some, if only a few, get home and rankle.

We are challenged to contrast our faith in our own political

institutions with that of the Germans in theirs; also to measure the

intrinsic strength of that form of political organisation called

'democracy' against that other form which is known as 'autocracy.'

The German state is the most highly developed and efficient type of

personal monarchy at present known to the world. Its triumphs in

certain directions have been apparent from the beginning. It would be

sheer waste of time to dispute the fact that Germany was incomparably

better prepared, organised, and educated for this war--the purpose of

which was the spoliation of her {168} neighbours--than any of her

neighbours were for offering resistance.

But what the Freiherr does not touch upon at all is the conflict

between certain underlying ideas of right and wrong--old ideas, which

are held by Russia, France, and ourselves, and which now find

themselves confronted by new and strange ideas which have been

exceedingly prevalent among the governing classes in Germany for many

years past. He does not raise _this_ issue, any more than his

fellow-countrymen now raise it either in America or at home. It is

true that there was a flamboyant outburst from a few faithful

Treitschkians and Nietzschians, both in prose and poetry, during those

weeks of August and September which teemed with German successes; but

their voices soon sank below audibility--possibly by order

_verboten_--in a swiftly dying fall. We, however, cannot agree to let

this aspect of the matter drop, merely because patriotic Germans happen

to have concluded that the present time is inopportune for the

discussion of it.

There are two clear and separate issues. From the point of view of

posterity the more important of these, perhaps, may prove to be this

conflict in the region of moral ideas. From the point of view of the

present generation, however, the chief matter of practical interest is

the result of a struggle for the preservation of our own institutions,

against the aggression of a race which has not yet learned the last and

hardest lesson of civilisation--how to live and let live.

[Sidenote: DEMOCRACY]

The present war may result in the bankruptcy of the Habsburg and

Hohenzollern dynasties. It is very desirable, however, to make clear

the fact {169} that the alternative is the bankruptcy of 'democracy.'

Our institutions are now being subjected to a severer strain than they

have ever yet experienced. Popular government is standing its trial.

It will be judged by the result; and no one can say that this is an

unfair test to apply to human institutions.

No nation, unless it be utterly mad, will retain a form of government

which from some inherent defect is unable to protect itself against

external attack. Is democratic government capable of looking ahead,

making adequate and timely preparation, calling for and obtaining from

its people the sacrifices which are necessary in order to preserve

their own existence? Can it recover ground which has been lost, and

maintain a long, costly, and arduous struggle, until, by victory, it

has placed national security beyond the reach of danger?

Defeat in the present war would shake popular institutions to their

foundations in England as well as France; possibly also in regions

which are more remote than either of these. But something far short of

defeat--anything indeed in the nature of a drawn game or

stalemate--would assuredly bring the credit of democracy so low that it

would be driven to make some composition with its creditors.

Words, like other currencies, have a way of changing their values as

the world grows older. Until comparatively recent times 'democracy'

was a term of contempt, as 'demagogue' still is to-day.

The founders of American Union abhorred 'Democracy,'[1] and took every

precaution which occurred to them in order to ward it off. Their aim

was {170} 'Popular,' or 'Representative Government'--a thing which they

conceived to lie almost at the opposite pole. Their ideal was a state,

the citizens of which chose their leaders at stated intervals, and

trusted them. Democracy, as it appeared in their eyes, was a political

chaos where the people chose its servants, and expected from them only

servility. There was an ever-present danger, calling for stringent

safeguards, that the first, which they esteemed the best of all

constitutional arrangements, would degenerate into the second, which

they judged to be the worst.

Until times not so very remote it was only the enemies of

Representative Government, or its most cringing flatterers, who spoke

of it by the title of Democracy. Gradually, however, in the looseness

of popular discussions, the sharpness of the original distinction wore

off, so that the ideal system and its opposite--the good and the

evil--are now confounded together under one name. There is no use

fighting against current terminology; but it is well to bear in mind

that terminology has no power to alter facts, and that the difference

between the two principles still remains as wide as it was at the

beginning.

When a people becomes so self-complacent that it mistakes its own

ignorance for omniscience--so jealous of authority and impatient of

contradiction that it refuses to invest with more than a mere shadow of

power those whose business it is to govern--when the stock of

leadership gives out, or remains hidden and undiscovered under a litter

of showy refuse--when those who succeed in pushing themselves to the

front are chiefly concerned not to lead, but merely to act the parts of

leaders 'in silver slippers and amid applause'--when the chiefs of

parties are {171} so fearful of unpopularity that they will not assert

their own opinions, or utter timely warnings, or proclaim what they

know to be the truth--when such things as these come to pass the nation

has reached that state which was dreaded by the framers of the American

Constitution, and which--intending to warn mankind against it--they

branded as 'Democracy.'

[Sidenote: DANGERS OF SELF-CRITICISM]

Self-criticism makes for health in a people; but it may be overdone.

If it purges the national spirit it is good; but if it should lead to

pessimism, or to some impatient breach with tradition, it is one of the

worst evils. One is conscious of a somewhat dangerous tendency in

certain quarters at the present time to assume the worst with regard to

the working of our own institutions.

Critics of this school have pointed out (what is undoubtedly true) that

Germany has been far ahead of us in her preparations. Every month

since war began has furnished fresh evidence of the far-sightedness,

resourcefulness, thoroughness, and efficiency of all her military

arrangements. Her commercial and financial resources have also been

husbanded, and organised in a manner which excites our unwilling

admiration. And what perhaps has been the rudest shock of all, is the

apparent unity and devotion of the whole German people, in support of a

war which, without exaggeration, may be said to have cast the shadow of

death on every German home.

These critics further insist that our own nation has not shown itself

more loyal, and that it did not rouse itself to the emergency with

anything approaching the same swiftness. Timidity and a wilful {172}

self-deception, they say, have marked our policy for years before this

war broke out. They marked it again when the crisis came upon us.

Have they not marked it ever since war began? And who can have

confidence that they will not continue to mark it until the end,

whatever the end may be?

The conclusion therefore at which our more despondent spirits have

arrived, is that the representative system has already failed us--that

it has suffered that very degradation which liberal minds of the

eighteenth century feared so much. How can democracy in the bad

sense--democracy which has become decadent--which is concerned mainly

with its rights instead of with its duties--with its comforts more than

with the sacrifices which are essential to its own preservation--how

can such a system make head against an efficient monarchy sustained by

the enthusiastic devotion of a vigorous and intelligent people?

It does not seem altogether wise to despair of one's own institutions

at the first check. Even democracy, in the best sense, is not a

flawless thing. Of all forms of government it is the most delicate,

more dependent than any other upon the supply of leaders. There are

times of dearth when the crop of leadership is a short one. Nor are

popular institutions, any more than our own vile bodies, exempt from

disease. Disease, however, is not necessarily fatal. The patient may

recover, and in the bracing air of a national crisis, such as the

present, conditions are favourable for a cure.

And, after all, we may remind these critics that in 1792 democracy did

in fact make head pretty successfully against monarchy. Though it was

miserably unprovided, untrained, inferior to its enemies in everything

{173} save spirit and leadership, the states of Europe

nevertheless--all but England--went down before it, in the years which

followed, like a row of ninepins. Then as now, England, guarded by

seas and sea-power, had a breathing-space allowed her, in which to

adjust the spirit of her people to the new conditions. That Germany

will not conquer us with her arms we may well feel confident. But

unless we conquer her with _our arms_--and this is a much longer

step--there is a considerable danger that she may yet conquer us with

_her ideas_. In that case the world will be thrown back several

hundred years; and the blame for this disaster, should it occur, will

be laid--and laid rightly--at the door of Democracy, because it vaunted

a system which it had neither the fortitude nor the strength to uphold.

[Sidenote: IRRECONCILABLE OPPOSITIONS]

When we pass from the conflict between systems of government, and come

to the other conflict of ideas as to right and wrong, we find ourselves

faced with an antagonism which is wholly incapable of accommodation.

In this war the stakes are something more than any of the material

interests involved. It is a conflict where one faith is pitted against

another. No casuistry will reconcile the ideal which inspires English

policy with the ideal which inspires German policy. There is no

sense--nothing indeed but danger--in arguing round the circle to prove

that the rulers of these two nations are victims of some frightful

misunderstanding, and that really at the bottom of their hearts they

believe the same things. This is entirely untrue: they believe quite

different things; things indeed which are as nearly as possible

opposites.

{174}

Our own belief is old, ingrained, and universal. It is accepted

equally by the people and their rulers. We have held it so long that

the articles of our creed have become somewhat blurred in

outline--overgrown, like a memorial tablet, by moss and lichen.

In the case of our enemy the tablet is new and the inscription sharp.

He who runs may read it in bold clear-cut lettering. But the belief of

the German people in the doctrine which has been carved upon the stone

is not yet universal, or anything like universal. It is not even

general. It is fully understood and accepted only in certain strata of

society; but it is responsible, without a doubt, for the making in cold

blood of the policy which has led to this war. When the hour struck

which the German rulers deemed favourable for conquest, war, according

to their creed, became the duty as well as the interest of the

Fatherland.

But so soon as war had been declared, the German people were allowed

and even encouraged to believe that the making of war from motives of

self-interest was a crime against humanity--the Sin against the Holy

Ghost. They were allowed and encouraged to believe that the Allies

were guilty of this crime and sin. And not only this, but war itself,

which had been hymned in so many professorial rhapsodies, as a noble

and splendid restorer of vigour and virtue, was now execrated with

wailing and gnashing of teeth, as the most hideous of all human

calamities.

It is clear from all this that the greater part of the German people

regarded war in exactly the same light as the whole of the English

people did. In itself it was a curse; and the man who deliberately

contrived it for his own ends, or even for those of his {175} country,

was a criminal. The German people applied the same tests as we did,

and it is not possible to doubt that in so doing they were perfectly

sincere. They acted upon instinct. They had not learned the later

doctrines of the pedantocracy, or how to steer by a new magnetic pole.

They still held by the old Christian rules as to duties which exist

between neighbours. To their simple old-fashioned loyalty what their

Kaiser said must be the truth. And what their Kaiser said was that the

Fatherland was attacked by treacherous foes. That was enough to banish

all doubts. For the common people that was the reality and the only

reality. Phrases about world-power and will-to-power--supposing they

had ever heard or noticed them--were only mouthfuls of strange words,

such as preachers of all kinds love to chew in the intervals of their

discourses.

[Sidenote: APOSTASY OF THE PRIESTHOOD]

When the priests and prophets found themselves at last confronted by

those very horrors which they had so often invoked, did their new-found

faith desert them, or was it only that their tongues, for some reason,

refused to speak the old jargon? Judging by their high-flown

indignation against the Allies it would rather seem as if, in the day

of wrath, they had hastily abandoned sophistication for the pious

memories of their unlettered childhood. Their apostasy was too well

done to have been hypocrisy.

With the rulers it was different. They knew clearly enough what they

had done, what they were doing, and what they meant to do. When they

remained sympathetically silent, amid the popular babble about the

horrors of war and iniquity of peace-breakers, their tongues were not

paralysed by remorse--they were merely in their cheeks. Their {176}

sole concern was to humour public opinion, the results of whose

disapproval they feared, quite as much as they despised its judgment.

That war draws out and gives scope to some of the noblest human

qualities, which in peace-time are apt to be hidden out of sight, no

one will deny. That it is a great getter-rid of words and phrases,

which have no real meaning behind them--that it is a great winnower of

true men from shams, of staunch men from boasters and blowers of their

own trumpets--that it is a great binder-together of classes, a great

purifier of the hearts of nations, there is no need to dispute.

Occasionally, though very rarely, it has proved itself to be a great

destroyer of misunderstanding between the combatants themselves.

But although the whole of this is true, it does not lighten the guilt

of the deliberate peace-breaker. Many of the same benefits, though in

a lesser degree, arise out of a pestilence, a famine, or any other

great national calamity; and it is the acknowledged duty of man to

strive to the uttermost against these and to ward them off with all his

strength. It is the same with war. To argue, as German intellectuals

have done of late, that in order to expand their territories they were

justified in scattering infection and deliberately inviting this

plague, that the plague itself was a thing greatly for the advantage of

the moral sanitation of the world--all this is merely the casuistry of

a priesthood whom the vanity of rubbing elbows with men of action has

beguiled of their salvation.

[Sidenote: THE ARROGANCE OF PEDANTS]

Somewhere in one of his essays Emerson introduces an interlocutor whom

he salutes as 'little Sir.' One feels tempted to personify the whole

corporation of German pedants under the same title. When they {177}

talk so vehemently and pompously about the duty of deliberate

war-making for the expansion of the Fatherland, for the fulfilment of

the theory of evolution, even for the glory of God on high, our minds

are filled with wonder and a kind of pity.

Have they ever seen war except in their dreams, or a countryside in

devastation? Have they ever looked with their own eyes on shattered

limbs, or faces defaced, of which cases, and the like, there are

already some hundreds of thousands in the hospitals of Europe, and may

be some millions before this war is ended? Have they ever

reckoned--except in columns of numerals without human meaning--how many

more hundreds of thousands, in the flower of their age, have died and

will die, or--more to be pitied--will linger on maimed and impotent

when the war is ended? Have they realised any of these things, except

in diagrams, and curves, and statistical tables, dealing with the

matter--as they would say themselves, in their own dull and dry

fashion--'under its broader aspects'--in terms, that is, of population,

food-supply, and economic output?

Death, and suffering of many sorts occur in all wars--even in the most

humane war. And this is not a humane war which the pedants have let

loose upon us. Indeed, they have taught with some emphasis that

humanity, under such conditions, is altogether a mistake.

"Sentimentality!" cries the 'little Sir' impatiently, "sickly

sentimentality! In a world of men such things must be. God has

ordained war."

Possibly. But what one feels is that the making of war is the Lord's

own business and not the 'little Sir's.' It is the Lord's, as

vengeance is, and {178} earthquakes, floods, and droughts; not an

office to be undertaken by mortals.

The 'little Sir,' however, has devised a new order for the world, and

apparently he will never rest satisfied until Heaven itself conforms to

his initiative. He is audacious, for like the Titans he has challenged

Zeus. But at times we are inclined to wonder--is he not perhaps trying

too much? Is he not in fact engaged in an attempt to outflank

Providence, whose pivot is infinity? And for this he is relying solely

upon the resources of his own active little finite mind. He presses

his attack most gallantly against human nature--back and forwards, up

and down--but opposing all his efforts is there not a screen of

adamantine crystal which cannot be pierced, of interminable superficies

which cannot be circumvented? Is he not in some ways like a wasp,

which beats itself angrily against a pane of glass?

[1] Washington, Hamilton, Madison, Jay.

PART III

THE SPIRIT OF BRITISH POLICY

I saw then in my dream that he went on _thus_, even until he came at a

bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three Men fast asleep

with Fetters upon their heels.

The name of the one was _Simple_, another _Sloth_, and the third

_Presumption_.

_Christian_ then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if

Peradventure he might awake them. And cried, you are like them that

sleep on the top of a Mast, for the dead Sea is under you, a Gulf that

hath no bottom. Awake therefore and come away; be willing also, and I

will help you off with your Irons. He also told them, If he that goeth

about like a _roaring Lion_ comes by, you will certainly become a prey

to his teeth.

With that they lookt upon him, and began to reply in this sort:

_Simple_ said, _I see no danger_; _Sloth_ said, _Yet a little more

sleep_; and _Presumption_ said, _Every Vat must stand upon his own

bottom_. And so they lay down to sleep again, and _Christian_ went on

his way.

_The Pilgrim's Progress_.

{181}

CHAPTER I

A REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD

(_January_ 1901-_July_ 1914)

It is not true to say that this is a war between the rival principles

of democracy and autocracy. A too great absorption in our own

particular sector of the situation has led certain writers to put

forward, as a general explanation, this formula which is not only

inadequate, but misleading. The real issue is something wider and

deeper than a struggle between forms of government. It is concerned

with the groundwork of human beliefs.

And yet it is unquestionably true to say, that by reason of Germany's

procedure, this war is being waged against democracy--not perhaps by

intention, but certainly in effect. For if the Allies should be

defeated, or even if they should fail to conquer their present enemies,

the result must necessarily be wounding to the credit of popular

institutions all the world over, fatal to their existence in Europe at

any rate, fatal conceivably at no long distance of time to their

existence elsewhere than in Europe. For mankind, we may be sure, is

not going to put up with any kind of government merely because it is

ideally beautiful. No system will be tolerated {182} indefinitely

which does not enable the people who live under it to protect

themselves from their enemies. The instinct of self-preservation will

drive them to seek for some other political arrangement which is

competent, in the present imperfect condition of the world, to provide

the first essential of a state, which is Security.

But although the whole fabric of democracy is threatened by this war,

the principle of autocracy is not challenged by it either directly or

indirectly. France and England are not fighting against personal

monarchy any more than Russia is fighting against popular government.

So far as the forms of constitutions are concerned each of the Allies

would be well content to live and let live. They are none of them

spurred on by propagandist illusions like the armies of the First

Republic. Among Russians, devotion to their own institutions, and

attachment to the person of their Emperor are inspired not merely by

dictates of political expediency and patriotism, but also by their

sense of religious duty.[1] It is inconceivable that the national

spirit of Russia could ever have been roused to universal enthusiasm

merely in order to fight the battles of democracy. And yet Russia is

now ranged side by side with the French Republic and the British

Commonwealth in perfect unison. What has induced her to submit to

sacrifices--less indeed than those of Belgium, but equal to those of

France, and much greater so far than our own--unless some issue was at

stake wider and deeper even than the future of popular government?

The instincts of a people are vague and obscure. The reasons which are

put forward, the motives {183} which appear upon the surface, the

provocations which lead to action, the immediate ends which are sought

after and pursued, rarely explain the true causes or proportions of any

great national struggle. But for all that, the main issue, as a rule,

is realised by the masses who are engaged, although it is not realised

through the medium of coherent argument or articulate speech.

The present war is a fight, not between democracy and autocracy, but

between the modern spirit of Germany and the unchanging spirit of

civilisation. And it is well to bear in mind that the second of these

is not invincible. It has suffered defeat before now, at various

epochs in the world's history, when attacked by the same forces which

assail it to-day. Barbarism is not any the less barbarism because it

employs weapons of precision, because it avails itself of the

discoveries of science and the mechanism of finance, or because it

thinks it worth while to hire bands of learned men to shriek pæans in

its praise and invectives against its victims. Barbarism is not any

the less barbarism because its methods are up to date. It is known for

what it is by the ends which it pursues and the spirit in which it

pursues them.

[Sidenote: GERMAN MATERIALISM]

The modern spirit of Germany is materialism in its crudest form--the

undistracted pursuit of wealth, and of power as a means to wealth. It

is materialism, rampant and self-confident, fostered by the

state--subsidised, regulated, and, where thought advisable, controlled

by the state--supported everywhere by the diplomatic resources of the

state--backed in the last resort by the fleets and armies of the state.

It is the most highly organised machine, {184} the most deliberate and

thorough-going system, for arriving at material ends which has ever yet

been devised by man. It is far more efficient, but not a whit less

material, than 'Manchesterism' of the Victorian era, which placed its

hopes in 'free' competition, and also than that later development of

trusts and syndicates--hailing from America--which aims at levying

tribute on society by means of 'voluntary' co-operation. And just as

the English professors, who fell prostrate in adoration before the

prosperity of cotton-spinners, found no difficulty in placing

self-interest upon the loftiest pedestal of morality, so German

professors have succeeded in erecting for the joint worship of the

Golden Calf and the War-god Wotun, high twin altars which look down

with pity and contempt upon the humbler shrines of the Christian faith.

The morality made in Manchester has long ago lost its reputation. That

which has been made in Germany more recently must in the end follow

suit; for, like its predecessor, it is founded upon a false conception

of human nature and cannot endure. But in the interval, if it be

allowed to triumph, it may work evil, in comparison with which that

done by our own devil-take-the-hindmost philosophers sinks into

insignificance.

[Sidenote: WANT OF A NATIONAL POLICY]

Looking at the present war from the standpoint of the Allies, the

object of it is to repel the encroachments of materialism, working its

way through the ruin of ideas, which have been cherished always, save

in the dark ages when civilisation was overwhelmed by barbarism.

Looking at the matter from our own particular standpoint, it is also

incidentally a struggle for the existence of democracy. The chief

question {185} we have to ask ourselves is whether our people will

fight for their faith and traditions with the same skill and courage as

the Germans for their material ends? Will they endure sacrifices with

the same fortitude as France and Russia? Will they face the inevitable

eagerly and promptly, or will they play the laggard and by delay ruin

all--themselves most of all? ... This war is not going to be won for us

by other people, or by some miraculous intervention of Providence, or

by the Germans running short of copper, or by revolutions in Berlin,

nor even by the break-up of the Austrian Empire. In order to win it we

shall have to put out our full strength, to organise our resources in

men and material as we have never done before during the whole of our

history. We have not accomplished these things as yet, although we

have expressed our determination, and are indeed willing to attempt

them. We were taken by surprise, and the immediate result has been a

great confusion, very hard to disentangle.

Considering how little, before war began, our people had been taken

into the confidence of successive governments, as to the relations of

the British Empire with the outside world; how little education of

opinion there had been, as to risks, and dangers, and means of defence;

how little leading and clear guidance, both before and since, as to

duties--considering all these omissions one can only marvel that the

popular response has been what it is, and that the confusion was not

many times worse.

What was the mood of the British race when this war broke upon them so

unexpectedly? To what extent were they provided against it in a

material sense? And still more important, how far were {186} their

minds and hearts prepared to encounter it? It is important to

understand those things, but in order to do this it is necessary to

look back over a few years.

By a coincidence which may prove convenient to historians, the end of

the nineteenth century marked the beginning of a new epoch[2]--an

interlude, of brief duration as it proved--upon which the curtain was

rung down shortly before midnight on the 4th of August 1914.

Between these two dates, in a space of something over thirteen years,

events had happened in a quick succession, both within the empire and

abroad, which disturbed or dissolved many ancient understandings. The

spirit of change had been busy with mankind, and needs unknown to a

former generation had grown clamorous. Objects of hope had presented

themselves, driving old ideas to the wall, and unforeseen dangers had

produced fresh groupings, compacts, and associations between states,

and parties, and individual men.

In Europe during this period the manifest determination of Germany to

challenge the naval supremacy of Britain, by the creation of a fleet

designed and projected as the counterpart of her overwhelming army, had

threatened the security of the whole continent, and had put France,

Russia, and England upon terms not far removed from those of an

alliance. The gravity of this emergency had induced our politicians to

exclude, for the time being, this department of public affairs from the

bitterness of their party struggles; and it had also drawn {187} the

governments of the United Kingdom and the Dominions into relations

closer than ever before, for the purpose of mutual defence.[3]

[Sidenote: DEVELOPMENTS IN THE EAST]

In the meanwhile there had been developments even more startling in the

hitherto unchanging East. Japan, as the result of a great war,[4] had

become a first-class power, redoubtable both by sea and land. China,

the most populous, the most ancient, and the most conservative of

despotisms, had suddenly sought her salvation under the milder

institutions of a republic.[5]

The South African war, ended by the Peace of Pretoria, had paved the

way for South African Union.[6] The achievement of this endeavour had

been applauded by men of all parties; some finding in it a welcome

confirmation of their theories with regard to liberty and

self-government; others again drawing from it encouragement to a still

bolder undertaking. For if South Africa had made a precedent, the

existing state of the world had supplied a motive, for the closer union

of the empire.

Within the narrower limits of the United Kingdom changes had also

occurred within this period which, from another point of view, were

equally momentous. In 1903 Mr. Chamberlain had poured new wine into

old bottles, and in so doing had hastened the inevitable end of

Unionist predominance by changing on a sudden the direction of party

policy. In the unparalleled defeat which ensued two and a half years

later the Labour party appeared for the first time, formidable both in

numbers and ideas.

A revolution had likewise been proceeding in {188} our institutions as

well as in the minds of our people. The balance of the state had been

shifted by a curtailment of the powers of the House of Lords[7]--the

first change which had been made by statute in the fundamental

principle of the Constitution since the passing of the Act of

Settlement.[8] In July 1914 further changes of a similar character,

hardly less important under a practical aspect, were upon the point of

receiving the Royal Assent.[9]

Both these sets of changes--that which had been already accomplished

and the other which was about to pass into law--had this in common,

that even upon the admissions of their own authors they were

incomplete. Neither in the Parliament Act nor in the Home Rule Act was

there finality. The composition of the Second Chamber had been set

down for early consideration, whilst a revision of the constitutional

relations between England, Scotland, and Wales was promised so soon as

the case of Ireland had been dealt with.

It seemed as if the modern spirit had at last, in earnest, opened an

inquisition upon the adequacy of our ancient unwritten compact, which

upon the whole, had served its purpose well for upwards of two hundred

years. It seemed as if that compact were in the near future to be

tested thoroughly, and examined in respect of its fitness for dealing

with the needs of the time--with the complexities and the vastness of

the British Empire--with the evils which prey upon us from within, and

with the dangers which threaten us from without.

Questioners were not drawn from one party alone. {189} They were

pressing forwards from all sides. It was not merely the case of

Ireland, or the powers of the Second Chamber, or its composition, or

the general congestion of business, or the efficiency of the House of

Commons: it was the whole machinery of government which seemed to need

overhauling and reconsideration in the light of new conditions. Most

important of all these constitutional issues was that which concerned

the closer union of the Empire.

[Sidenote: CONSTITUTIONAL CHANGES]

It was little more than eighty years since the Iron Duke had described

the British Constitution as an incomparably devised perfection which

none but a madman would seek to change. That was not now the creed of

any political party or indeed of any thinking man. No one was

satisfied with things as they were. Many of the most respectable old

phrases had become known for empty husks, out of which long since had

dropped whatever seed they may originally have contained. Many of the

old traditions were dead or sickly, and their former adherents were now

wandering at large, like soldiers in the middle ages, when armies were

disbanded in foreign parts, seeking a new allegiance, and constituting

in the meanwhile a danger to security and the public peace.

And also, within this brief period, the highest offices had become

vacant, and many great figures had passed from the scene. Two

sovereigns had died full of honour. Two Prime Ministers had also died,

having first put off the burden of office, each at the zenith of his

popularity. Of the two famous men upon the Unionist side who remained

when Lord Salisbury tendered his resignation, the one since 1906 had

been wholly withdrawn from public life, {190} while the other, four

years later, had passed the leadership into younger hands.[10]

There is room for an almost infinite variety of estimate as to the

influence which is exercised by pre-eminent characters upon public

affairs and national ideals. The verdict of the day after is always

different from that of a year after. The verdict of the next

generation, while differing from both, is apt to be markedly different

from that of the generation which follows it. The admiration or

censure of the moment is followed by a reaction no less surely than the

reaction itself is followed by a counter-reaction. Gradually the

oscillations become shorter, as matters pass out of the hands of

journalists and politicians into those of the historian. Possibly

later judgments are more true. We have more knowledge, of a kind.

Seals are broken one by one, and we learn how this man really thought

and how the other acted, in both cases differently from what had been

supposed. We have new facts submitted to us, and possibly come nearer

the truth. But while we gain so much, we also lose in other

directions. We lose the sharp savour of the air. The keen glance and

alert curiosity of contemporary vigilance are lacking. Conditions and

circumstances are no longer clear, and as generation after generation

passes away they become more dim. The narratives of the great

historians and novelists are to a large extent either faded or false.

We do not trust the most vivid presentments written by the man of

genius in his study a century after the event, while we know well that

even the shrewdest of contemporaneous observers is certain to omit many

{191} of the essentials. If Macaulay is inadequate in one direction,

Pepys is equally inadequate in another. And if the chronicler at the

moment, and the historian in the future are not to be wholly believed,

the writer who comments after a decade or less upon things which are

fresh in his memory is liable to another form of error; for either he

is swept away by the full current of the reaction, or else his

judgments are embittered by a sense of the hopelessness of swimming

against it.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF QUEEN VICTORIA]

This much, however, may be said safely--that the withdrawal of any

pre-eminent character from the scene, whether it be Queen Victoria or

King Edward, Lord Salisbury or Mr. Chamberlain, produces in a greater

or less degree that same loosening of allegiance and disturbance of

ideas, which are so much dreaded by the conservative temperament from

the removal of an ancient institution. For a pre-eminent character is

of the same nature as an institution. The beliefs, loyalties, and

ideals of millions were attached to the personality of the Queen. The

whole of that prestige which Queen Victoria drew from the awe,

reverence, affection, and prayers of her people could not be passed

along with the crown to King Edward. The office of sovereign was for

the moment stripped and impoverished of some part of its strength, and

was only gradually replenished as the new monarch created a new, and to

some extent a different, loyalty of his own. So much is a truism.

But, when there is already a ferment in men's minds, the disappearance

in rapid succession of the pre-eminent characters of the age helps on

revolution by putting an end to a multitude of customary attachments,

and by setting sentiments adrift to wander in search of new heroes.

{192}

A change of some importance had also come over the character of the

House of Commons. The old idea that it was a kind of grand jury of

plain men, capable in times of crisis of breaking with their parties,

had at last finally disappeared. In politics there was no longer any

place for plain men. The need was for professionals, and professionals

of this sort, like experts in other walks of life, were worthy of their

hire.

The decision to pay members of Parliament came as no surprise. The

marvel was rather that it had not been taken at an earlier date, seeing

that for considerably more than a century this item had figured in the

programmes of all advanced reformers. The change, nevertheless, when

it came, was no trivial occurrence, but one which was bound

fundamentally to affect the character of the popular assembly; whether

for better or worse was a matter of dispute.

Immense, however, as were the possibilities contained in the conversion

of unpaid amateurs into professional and stipendiary politicians, what

excited even more notice at the time than the thing itself, were the

means by which it was accomplished. No attempt was made to place this

great constitutional reform definitely and securely upon the statute

book. To have followed this course would have meant submitting a bill,

and a bill would have invited discussion at all its various stages.

Moreover, the measure might have been challenged by the House of Lords,

in which case delay would have ensued; and a subject, peculiarly

susceptible to malicious misrepresentation, would have been

kept--possibly for so long as three years--under the critical eyes of

public opinion. {193} Apparently this beneficent proposal was one of

those instances, so rare in modern political life, where neither

publicity nor advertisement was sought. On the contrary, the object

seemed to be to do good by stealth; and for this purpose a simple

financial resolution was all that the law required. The Lords had

recently been warned off and forbidden to interfere with money matters,

their judgment being under suspicion, owing to its supposed liability

to be affected by motives of self-interest. The House of Commons was

therefore sole custodian of the public purse; and in this capacity its

members were invited to vote themselves four hundred pounds a year all

round, as the shortest and least ostentatious way of raising the

character and improving the quality of the people's representatives.

[Sidenote: CHANGE IN HOUSE OF COMMONS]

Even by July 1914 the effect of this constitutional amendment upon our

old political traditions had become noticeable in various directions.

But the means by which it was accomplished are no less worthy of note

than the reform itself, when we are endeavouring to estimate the

changes which have come over Parliament during this short but

revolutionary epoch. The method adopted seemed to indicate a novel

attitude on the part of members of the House of Commons towards the

Imperial Exchequer, on the part of the Government towards members of

the House of Commons, and on the part of both towards the people whom

they trusted. It was adroit, expeditious, and businesslike; and to

this extent seemed to promise well for years to come, when the

professionals should have finally got rid of the amateurs, and taken

things wholly into their own hands. Hostile critics, it is true,

denounced the {194} reform bluntly as corruption, and the method of its

achievement as furtive and cynical; but for this class of persons no

slander is ever too gross--_They have said. Quhat say they? Let them

be saying_.

The party leaders were probably neither worse men nor better than they

had been in the past; but they were certainly smaller; while on the

other hand the issues with which they found themselves confronted were

bigger.

Great characters are like tent-pegs. One of their uses is to prevent

the political camp from being blown to ribbons. Where they are too

short or too frail, we may look for such disorders as have repeated

themselves at intervals during the past few years. A blast of anger or

ill-temper has blown, or a gust of sentiment, or even a gentle zephyr

of sentimentality, and the whole scene has at once become a confusion

of flapping canvas, tangled cordage, and shouting, struggling humanity.

Such unstable conditions are fatal to equanimity; they disturb the

fortitude of the most stalwart follower, and cause doubt and distrust

on every hand.

Since the Liberal Government came into power in the autumn of 1905,

neither of the great parties had succeeded in earning the respect of

the other; and as the nature of man is not subject to violent

fluctuations, it may safely be concluded that this misfortune had been

due either to some defect or inadequacy of leadership, or else to

conditions of an altogether extraordinary character.

During these ten sessions the bulk of the statute book had greatly

increased, and much of this increase was no doubt healthy tissue. This

period, notwithstanding, {195} will ever dwell in the memory as a

squalid episode. Especially is this the case when we contrast the high

hopes and promises, not of one party alone, with the results which were

actually achieved.

[Sidenote: DEMOCRACY AND LEADERSHIP]

Democracy, if the best, is also the most delicate form of human

government. None suffers so swiftly or so sorely from any shortage in

the crop of character. None is so dependent upon men, and so little

capable of being supported by the machine alone. When the leading of

parties is in the hands of those who lack vision and firmness, the

first effect which manifests itself is that parties begin to slip their

principles. Some secondary object calls for and obtains the sacrifice

of an ideal. So the Unionists in 1909 threw over the order and

tradition of the state, the very ark of their political covenant, when

they procured the rejection of the Budget by the House of Lords. So

the Liberal Government in 1910, having solemnly undertaken to reform

the constitution--a work not unworthy of the most earnest

endeavour--went back upon their word, and abandoned their original

purpose. For one thing they grew afraid of the clamour of their

partisans. For another they were tempted by the opportunity of

advantages which--as they fondly imagined--could be easily and safely

secured during the interval while all legislative powers were

temporarily vested in the Commons. Nor were these the only instances

where traditional policy had been diverted, and where ideals had been

bargained away, in the hope that thereby objects of a more material

sort might be had at once in exchange.

The business of leadership is to prevent the abandonment of the long

aim for the sake of the short. The rank and file of every army is at

all times most {196} dangerously inclined to this fatal temptation, not

necessarily dishonestly, but from a lack of foresight and sense of

proportion.

Some dim perception of cause and effect had begun to dawn during the

years 1912 and 1913 upon the country, and even upon the more sober

section of the politicians. An apprehension had been growing rapidly,

and defied concealment, that the country was faced by a very formidable

something, to which men hesitated to give a name, but which was clearly

not to be got rid of by the customary methods of holding high debates

about it, and thereafter marching into division lobbies. While in

public, each party was concerned to attribute the appearance of this

unwelcome monster solely to the misdeeds of their opponents, each party

knew well enough in their hearts that the danger was due at least in

some measure to their own abandonment of pledges, principles, and

traditions.

At Midsummer 1914 most people would probably have said that the

immediate peril was Ireland and civil war. A few months earlier many

imagined that trouble of a more general character was brewing between

the civil and military powers, and that an issue which they described

as that of 'the Army versus the People' would have to be faced. A few

years earlier there was a widespread fear that the country might be

confronted by some organised stoppage of industry, and that this would

lead to revolution. Throughout the whole of this period of fourteen

years the menace of war with Germany had been appearing, and

disappearing, and reappearing, very much as a whale shows his back,

dives, rises at some different spot, and dives again. For the moment,

{197} however, this particular anxiety did not weigh heavily on the

public mind. The man in the street had been assured of late by the

greater part of the press and politicians--even by ministers

themselves--that our relations with this formidable neighbour were

friendlier and more satisfactory than they had been for some

considerable time.

[Sidenote: MR. ASQUITH'S PRE-EMINENCE]

At Midsummer 1914, that is to say about six weeks before war broke out,

the pre-eminent character in British politics was the Prime Minister.

No other on either side of the House approached him in prestige, and so

much was freely admitted by foes as well as friends.

When we are able to arrive at a fair estimate of the man who is

regarded as the chief figure of his age, we have an important clue to

the aspirations and modes of thought of the period in which he lived.

A people may be known to some extent by the leaders whom it has chosen

to follow.

Mr. Asquith entered Parliament in 1886, and before many months had

passed his reputation was secure. Mr. Gladstone, ever watchful for

youthful talent, promoted him at a bound to be Home Secretary, when the

Cabinet of 1892 came into precarious existence. No member of this

government justified his selection more admirably. But the period of

office was brief. Three years later, the Liberal party found itself

once again in the wilderness, where it continued to wander, rent by

dissensions both as to persons and principles, for rather more than a

decade.

When Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman returned to office in the autumn of

1905, Mr. Asquith became {198} Chancellor of the Exchequer, and was

speedily accepted as the minister next in succession to his chief. He

was then just turned fifty, so that, despite the delays which had

occurred, it could not be said that fortune had behaved altogether

unkindly. Two and a half years later, in April 1908, he succeeded to

the premiership without a rival, and without a dissentient voice.

The ambition, however, which brought him so successfully to the highest

post appeared to have exhausted a great part of its force in

attainment, and to have left its possessor without sufficient energy

for exercising those functions which the post itself required. The

career of Mr. Asquith in the highest office reminds one a little of the

fable of the Hare and the Tortoise. In the race which we all run with

slow-footed fate, he had a signal advantage in the speed of his

intellect, in his capacity for overtaking arrears of work which would

have appalled any other minister, and for finding, on the spur of the

moment, means for extricating his administration from the most

threatening positions. But of late, like the Hare, he had come to

believe himself invincible, and had yielded more and more to a drowsy

inclination. He had seemed to fall asleep for long periods, apparently

in serene confidence that, before the Tortoise could pass the

winning-post, somebody or something--in all probability the Unionist

party with the clamour of a premature jubilation--would awaken him in

time to save the race.

So far as Parliament was concerned, his confidence in his own qualities

was not misplaced. Again and again, the unleadered energies or

ungoaded indolence of his colleagues landed the Government {199} in a

mess. But as often as this happened Mr. Asquith always advanced upon

the scene and rescued his party, by putting the worst blunder in the

best light. He obligingly picked his stumbling lieutenants out of the

bogs into which--largely, it must be admitted, for want of proper

guidance from their chief--they had had the misfortune to fall. Having

done this in the most chivalrous manner imaginable, he earned their

gratitude and devotion. In this way he maintained a firm hold upon the

leadership; if indeed it can properly be termed leadership to be the

best acrobat of the troupe, and to step forward and do the feats after

your companions have failed, and the audience has begun to 'boo.'

[Sidenote: WAIT AND SEE]

Some years ago Mr. Asquith propounded a maxim--_wait-and-see_--which

greatly scandalised and annoyed the other side. This formula was the

perfectly natural expression of his character and policy. In the

peculiar circumstances of the case it proved itself to be a successful

parliamentary expedient. Again and again it wrought confusion among

his simple-minded opponents, who--not being held together by any firm

authority--followed their own noses, now in one direction, now in

another, upon the impulse of the moment. It is probable that against a

powerful leader, who had his party well in hand, this policy of

makeshift and delay would have brought its author to grief. But

Unionists were neither disciplined nor united, and they had lacked

leadership ever since they entered upon opposition.

For all its excellency, Mr. Asquith's oratory never touched the heart.

And very rarely indeed did it succeed in convincing the cool judgment

of people who had experience at first hand of the matters {200} under

discussion. There was lacking anything in the nature of a personal

note, which might have related the ego of the speaker to the sentiments

which he announced so admirably. Also there was something which

suggested that his knowledge had not been gained by looking at the

facts face to face; but rather by the rapid digestion of minutes and

memoranda, which had been prepared for him by clerks and secretaries,

and which purported to provide, in convenient tabloids, all that it was

necessary for a parliamentarian to know.

The style of speaking which is popular nowadays, and of which Mr.

Asquith is by far the greatest master, would not have been listened to

with an equal favour in the days of our grandfathers. In the

Parliaments which assembled at Westminster in the period between the

passing of the Reform Bill and the founding of the Eighty Club,[11] the

country-gentlemen and the men-of-business--two classes of humanity who

are constantly in touch with, and drawing strength from, our mother

earth of hard fact[12]--met and fought out their differences during two

generations. In that golden age it was all but unthinkable that a

practising barrister should ever have become Prime Minister. The legal

profession at this time had but little influence in counsel; still less

in Parliament and on the platform. The middle classes were every whit

as jealous and distrustful {201} of the intervention of the

lawyer-advocate in public affairs as the landed gentry themselves. But

in the stage of democratic evolution, which we entered on the morrow of

the Mid-Lothian campaigns, and in which we still remain, the popular,

and even the parliamentary, audience has gradually ceased to consist

mainly of country-gentlemen interested in the land, and of the

middle-classes who are engaged in trade. It has grown to be at once

less discriminating as to the substance of speeches, and more exacting

as to their form.

[Sidenote: POLITICAL LAWYERS]

A representative assembly which entirely lacked lawyers would be

impoverished; but one in which they are the predominant, or even a very

important element, is usually in its decline. It is strange that an

order of men, who in their private and professional capacities are so

admirable, should nevertheless produce baleful effects when they come

to play too great a part in public affairs. Trusty friends, delightful

companions, stricter perhaps than any other civil profession in all

rules of honour, they are none the less, without seeking to be so, the

worst enemies of representative institutions. The peculiar danger of

personal monarchy is that it so easily submits to draw its inspiration

from an adulatory priesthood, and the peculiar danger of that modern

form of constitutional government which we call democracy, is that

lawyers, with the most patriotic intentions, are so apt to undo it.

Lawyers see too much of life in one way, too little in another, to make

them safe guides in practical matters. Their experience of human

affairs is made up of an infinite number of scraps cut out of other

people's lives. They learn and do hardly anything {202} except through

intermediaries. Their clients are introduced, not in person, but in

the first instance, on paper--through the medium of solicitors'

'instructions.' Litigants appear at consultations in their counsel's

chambers under the chaperonage of their attorneys; their case is

considered; they receive advice. Then perhaps, if the issue comes into

court, they appear once again, in the witness-box, and are there

examined, cross-examined, and re-examined under that admirable system

for the discovery of truth which is ordained in Anglo-Saxon countries,

and which consists in turning, for the time being, nine people in every

ten out of their true natures into hypnotised rabbits. Then the whole

thing is ended, and the client disappears into the void from whence he

came. What happens to him afterwards seldom reaches the ears of his

former counsel. Whether the advice given to him in consultation has

proved right or wrong in practice, rarely becomes known to the great

man who gave it.

Plausibility, an alert eye for the technical trip or fall--the great

qualities of an advocate--do not necessarily imply judgment of the most

valuable sort outside courts of law. The farmer who manures, ploughs,

harrows, sows, and rolls in his crop is punished in his income, if he

has done any one of these things wrongly, or at the wrong season. The

shopkeeper who blunders in his buying or his selling, or the

manufacturer who makes things as they should not be made, suffers

painful consequences to a certainty. His error pounds him relentlessly

on the head. Not so the lawyer. His errors for the most part are

visited on others. His own success or non-success is largely a matter

of words and pose. If he is confident and {203} adroit, the dulness of

the jury or the senility of the bench can be made to appear, in the

eyes of the worsted client, as the true causes of his defeat. And the

misfortune is that in politics, which under its modern aspect is a

trade very much akin to advocacy, there is a temptation, with all but

the most patriotic lawyers, to turn to account at Westminster the skill

which they have so laboriously acquired in the Temple.

Of course there have been, and will ever be, exceptions. Alexander

Hamilton was a lawyer, though he was a soldier in the first instance.

Abraham Lincoln was a lawyer. But we should have to go back to the

'glorious revolution' of 1688 before we could find a parallel to either

of these two in our own history. Until the last two decades England

has never looked favourably on lawyer leaders. This was regarded by

some as a national peculiarity; by others as a safeguard of our

institutions. But by the beginning of the twentieth century it was

clear that lawyers had succeeded in establishing their predominance in

the higher walks of English politics, as thoroughly as they had already

done wherever parliamentary government exists throughout the world.

[Sidenote: MR. ASQUITH'S ORATORY]

During this epoch, when everything was sacrificed to perspicuity and

the avoidance of boredom, Mr. Asquith's utterances led the fashion.

His ministry was composed to a large extent of politicians bred in the

same profession and proficient in the same arts as himself; but he

towered above them all, the supreme type of the lawyer-statesman.

His method was supremely skilful. In its own way it had the charm of

perfect artistry, even though {204} the product of the art was hardly

more permanent than that of the _cordon bleu_ who confections ices in

fancy patterns. And not only was the method well suited to the taste

of popular audiences, but equally so to the modern House of Commons.

That body, also, was now much better educated in matters which can be

learned out of newspapers and books; far more capable of expressing its

meanings in well-chosen phrases arranged in a logical sequence; far

more critical of words--if somewhat less observant of things--than it

was during the greater part of the reign of Queen Victoria.

To a large extent the House of Commons consisted of persons with whom

public utterance was a trade. There were lawyers in vast numbers,

journalists, political organisers, and professional lecturers on a

large variety of subjects. And even among the labour party, where we

might have expected to find a corrective, the same tendency was at

work, perhaps as strongly as in any other quarter. For although few

types of mankind have a shrewder judgment between reality and dialectic

than a thoroughly competent 'workman,' labour leaders were not chosen

because they were first-class workmen, but because they happened to be

effective speakers on the platform or at the committee table.

To a critic, looking on at the play from outside, Mr. Asquith's oratory

appeared to lack heart and the instinct for reality; his leadership,

the qualities of vigilance, steadfastness, and authority. He did not

prevail by personal force, but by adroit confutation. His debating, as

distinguished from his political, courage would have been admitted with

few reservations even by an opponent. {205} Few were so ready to meet

their enemies in the gate of discussion. Few, if any, were so capable

of retrieving the fortunes of their party--even when things looked

blackest--if it were at all possible to accomplish this by the weapons

of debate. But the medium must be debate--not action or counsel--if

Mr. Asquith's pre-eminence was to assert itself. In debate he had all

the confidence and valour of the _maître d'armes_, who knows himself to

be the superior in skill of any fencer in his own school.

[Sidenote: HIS CHARACTER]

Next to Lord Rosebery he was the figure of most authority among the

Liberal Imperialists, and yet this did not sustain his resolution when

the Cabinet of 1905 proceeded to pare down the naval estimates. He was

the champion of equal justice, as regards the status of Trades Unions,

repelling the idea of exceptional and favouring legislation with an

eloquent scorn. Yet he continued to hold his place when his principles

were thrown overboard by his colleagues in 1906. Again when he met

Parliament in February 1910 he announced his programme with an air of

heroic firmness.[13] It is unnecessary to recall the particulars of

this episode, and how he was upheld in his command only upon condition

that he would alter his course to suit the wishes of mutineers. And in

regard to the question of Home Rule, his treatment of it from first to

last had been characterised by the virtues of patience and humility,

rather than by those of prescience or courage.

A 'stellar and undiminishable' something, around which the qualities

and capacities of a man revolve obediently, and under harmonious

restraint--like {206} the planetary bodies--is perhaps as near as we

can get to a definition of human greatness. But in the case of Mr.

Asquith, for some years prior to July 1914, the central force of his

nature had seemed inadequate for imposing the law of its will upon

those brilliant satellites his talents. As a result, the solar system

of his character had fallen into confusion, and especially since the

opening of that year had appeared to be swinging lop-sided across the

political firmament hastening to inevitable disaster.

[1] Cf. 'Russia and her Ideals,' _Round Table_, December 1914.

[2] Queen Victoria died on January 22, 1901.

[3] Imperial Conference on Defence, summer of 1909.

[4] 1904-1905.

[5] 1911.

[6] May 1902.

[7] Parliament Act became law August 1911.

[8] 1689.

[9] Home Rule Bill became law August 1914.

[10] Mr. Chamberlain died July 2, 1914; Mr. Balfour resigned the

leadership of the Unionist party on November 8, 1911.

[11] 1832-1880.

[12] They had an excellent sense of reality as regards their own

affairs, and there between them covered a fairly wide area; but they

were singularly lacking either in sympathy or imagination with regard

to the affairs of other nations and classes. Their interest in the

poor was confined for the most part to criticism of _one another_ with

regard to conditions of labour. The millowners thought that the

oppression of the peasantry was a scandal; while the landowners

considered that the state of things prevailing in factories was much

worse than slavery. Cf. Disraeli's _Sybil_.

[13] _I.e._ curtailment of the powers of the House of Lords and its

reform. Only the first was proceeded with.

{207}

CHAPTER II

THREE GOVERNING IDEAS

At the death of Queen Victoria the development of the British

Commonwealth entered upon a new phase. The epoch which followed has no

precedent in our own previous experience as a nation, nor can we

discover in the records of other empires anything which offers more

than a superficial and misleading resemblance to it. The issues of

this period presented themselves to different minds in a variety of

different lights; but to all it was clear that we had reached one of

the great turning-points in our history.

The passengers on a great ocean liner are apt to imagine, because their

stomachs are now so little troubled by the perturbation of the waves,

that it no longer profits them to offer up the familiar prayer 'for

those in peril on the sea.' It is difficult for them to believe in

danger where everything appears so steady and well-ordered, and where

they can enjoy most of the distractions of urban life, from a

cinematograph theatre to a skittle-alley, merely by descending a gilded

staircase or crossing a brightly panelled corridor. But this agreeable

sense of safety is perhaps due in a greater degree to fancy, than to

the changes which have taken place in the essential facts. As dangers

have been diminished in one direction {208} risks have been incurred in

another. A blunder to-day is more irreparable than formerly, and the

havoc which ensues upon a blunder is vastly more appalling. An error

of observation or of judgment--the wrong lever pulled or the wrong

button pressed--an order which miscarries or is overlooked--and twenty

thousand tons travelling at twenty knots an hour goes to the bottom,

with its freight of humanity, merchandise, and treasure, more easily,

and with greater speed and certainty, than in the days of the old

galleons--than in the days when Drake, in the _Golden Hind_ of a

hundred tons burden, beat up against head winds in the Straits of

Magellan, and ran before the following gale off the Cape of Storms.

Comfort, whether in ships of travel or of state, is not the same thing

as security. It never has been, and it never will be.

The position after Queen Victoria's death also differed from all

previous times in another way. After more than three centuries of

turmoil and expansion, the British race had entered into possession of

an estate so vast, so rich in all natural resources, that a sane mind

could not hope for, or even dream of, any further aggrandisement.

Whatever may be the diseases from which the British race suffered

during the short epoch between January 1901 and July 1914, megalomania

was certainly not one of them.

The period of acquisition being now acknowledged at an end, popular

imagination became much occupied with other things. It assumed, too

lightly and readily perhaps, that nothing was likely to interfere with

our continuing to hold what we had got. If there was not precisely a

law of nature, which precluded the possessions of the British Empire

from ever being {209} taken away, at any rate there was the law of

nations. The public opinion of the world would surely revolt against

so heinous a form of sacrilege. Having assumed so much, placidly and

contentedly, and without even a tremor either as to the good-will or

the potency of the famous Concert of Europe, the larger part of public

opinion tended to become more and more engrossed in other problems. It

began to concern itself earnestly with _the improvement of the

condition of the people_, and with _the reform and consolidation of

institutions_. Incidentally, and as a part of each of these

endeavours, the development of an estate which had come, mainly by

inheritance, into the trusteeship of the British people, began

seriously to occupy their thoughts.

[Sidenote: SOCIAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL REFORM]

These were problems of great worth and dignity, but nevertheless there

was one condition of their successful solution, which ought to have

been kept in mind, but which possibly was somewhat overlooked. If we

allowed ourselves to be so much absorbed by these two problems that we

gave insufficient heed to our defences, it was as certain as any human

forecast could be, that the solution of a great deal, which was

perplexing us in the management of our internal affairs, would be

summarily taken out of the hands of Britain and her Dominions and

solved according to the ideas of strangers.

If we were to bring our policy of social and constitutional improvement

and the development of our estate to a successful issue, we must be

safe from interruption from outside. We must secure ourselves against

foreign aggression; for we needed time. Our various problems could not

be solved in a day or even in a generation. The most urgent {210} of

all matters was _security_, for it was the prime condition of all the

rest.

We desired, not merely to hold what we had got, but to enjoy it, and

make it fructify and prosper, in our own way, and under our own

institutions. For this we needed peace within our own sphere; and

therefore it was necessary that we should be strong enough to enforce

peace.

During the post-Victorian period--this short epoch of transition--there

were therefore three separate sets of problems which between them

absorbed the energies of public men and occupied the thoughts of all

private persons, at home and in the Dominions, to whom the present and

future well-being of their country was a matter of concern.

The first of these problems was _Defence_: How might the British

Commonwealth, which held so vast a portion of the habitable globe, and

which was responsible for the government of a full quarter of all the

people who dwelt thereon--how might it best secure itself against the

dangers which threatened it from without?

The second was the problem of _the Constitution_: How could we best

develop, to what extent must we remake or remould, our ancient

institutions, so as to fit them for those duties and responsibilities

which new conditions required that they should be able to perform?

Under this head we were faced with projects, not merely of local

self-government, of 'Home Rule,' and of 'Federalism'; not merely with

the working of the Parliament Act, with the composition, functions, and

powers of the Second Chamber, with the Referendum, the Franchise, and

{211} such like; but also with that vast and even more perplexing

question--what were to be the future relations between the Mother

Country and the self-governing Dominions on the one hand, and between

these five democratic nations and the Indian Empire and the

Dependencies upon the other?

For the third set of problems no concise title has yet been found.

_Social Reform_ does not cover it, though perhaps it comes nearer doing

so than any other. The matters involved here were so multifarious and,

apparently at least, so detached one from another--they presented

themselves to different minds at so many different angles and under

such different aspects--that no single word or phrase was altogether

satisfactory. But briefly, what all men were engaged in searching

after--the Labour party, no more and no less than the Radicals and the

Tories--was how we could raise the character and material conditions of

our people; how by better organisation we could root out needless

misery of mind and body; how we could improve the health and the

intelligence, stimulate the sense of duty and fellowship, the

efficiency and the patriotism of the whole community.

Of these three sets of problems with which the British race has

recently been occupying itself, this, the third, is intrinsically by

far the most important.

[Sidenote: IMPORTANCE OF SOCIAL REFORM]

It is the most important because it is an end in itself whereas the

other two are only the means for achieving this end. Security against

foreign attack is a desirable and worthy object only in order to enable

us to approach this goal. A strong and flexible constitution is an

advantage only because we believe it will enable us to achieve our

objects, better and more quickly, than if we are compelled to go on

working {212} under a system which has become at once rigid and

rickety. But while we were bound to realise the superior nature of the

third set of problems, we should have been careful at the same time to

distinguish between two things which are very apt to be confused in

political discussions--_ultimate importance_ and _immediate urgency_.

We ought to have taken into our reckoning both the present state of the

world and the permanent nature of man--all the stuff that dreams and

wars are made on. We desired peace. We needed peace. Peace was a

matter of life and death to all our hopes. If defeat should once break

into the ring of our commonwealth--scattered as it is all over the

world, kept together only by the finest and most delicate

attachments--it must be broken irreparably. Our most immediate

interest was therefore to keep defeat, and if possible, war, from

bursting into our sphere--as Dutchmen by centuries of laborious

vigilance have kept back the sea with dikes.

The numbers of our people in themselves were no security; nor our

riches; nor even the fact that we entertained no aggressive designs.

For as it was said long ago, 'it never troubles a wolf how many the

sheep be.' They find no salvation in their heavy fleeces and their fat

haunches; nor even in the meekness of their hearts, and in their

innocence of all evil intentions.

The characteristic of this period may be summed up in one short

sentence; the vast majority of the British people were bent and

determined--as they had never been bent and determined before--upon

leaving their country better than they had found it.

{213}

To some this statement will seem a paradox. "Was there ever a time,"

they may ask, "when there had been so many evidences of popular unrest,

discontent, bitterness and anger; or when there had ever appeared to be

so great an inclination, on the one hand to apathy and cynicism, on the

other hand to despair?"

[Sidenote: THE RESULTS OF CONFUSION]

Were all this true, it would still be no paradox; but only a natural

consequence. Things are very liable to slip into this state, when men

who are in earnest--knowing the facts as they exist in their respective

spheres; knowing the evils at first hand; believing (very often with

reason) that they understand the true remedies--find themselves

baulked, and foiled, and headed off at every turn, their objects

misconceived and their motives misconstrued, and the current of their

wasted efforts burying itself hopelessly in the sand. Under such

conditions as these, public bodies and political parties

alike--confused by the multitude and congestion of issues--are apt to

bestow their dangerous attentions, now on one matter which happens to

dart into the limelight, now upon another; but in the general hubbub

and perplexity they lose all sense, both of true proportion and natural

priority. Everything is talked about; much is attempted in a

piecemeal, slap-dash, impulsive fashion; inconsiderably little is

brought to any conclusion whatsoever; while nothing, or next to

nothing, is considered on its merits, and carried through thoughtfully

to a clean and abiding settlement.... The word 'thorough' seemed to

have dropped out of the political vocabulary. In an age of specialism

politics alone was abandoned to the Jack-of-all-trades.

{214}

This phenomenon--the depreciated currency of public character--was not

peculiar to one party more than another. It was not even peculiar to

this particular time. It has shown itself at various epochs--much in

the same way as the small-pox and the plague--when favoured by

insanitary conditions. The sedate Scots philosopher, Adam Smith,

writing during the gloomy period which fell upon England after the

glory of the great Chatham had departed, could not repress his

bitterness against "that insidious and crafty animal, vulgarly called a

statesman or politician, whose councils are directed by the momentary

fluctuations of affairs." It would seem as if the body politic is not

unlike the human, and becomes more readily a prey to vermin, when it

has sunk into a morbid condition.

Popular judgment may be trusted as a rule, and in the long run, to

decide a clear issue between truth and falsehood, and to decide it in

favour of the former. But it becomes perplexed, when it is called upon

to discriminate between the assurances of two rival sets of showmen,

whose eagerness to outbid each other in the public favour leaves

truthfulness out of account. In the absence of gold, one brazen

counterfeit rings very much like another. People may be suspicious of

both coins; but on the whole their fancy is more readily caught by the

optimist effigy than the pessimist. They may not place entire trust in

the 'ever-cheerful man of sin,' with his flattery, his abounding

sympathy, his flowery promises, and his undefeated hopefulness; but

they prefer him at any rate to 'the melancholy Jaques,' booming

maledictions with a mournful {215} constancy, like some bittern in the

desolation of the marshes.

So far as principles were concerned most of the trouble was

unnecessary. Among the would-be reformers--among those who sincerely

desired to bring about efficiency within their own spheres--there was

surprisingly little that can truly be called antagonism. But

competition of an important kind--competition for public attention and

priority of treatment--had produced many of the unfortunate results of

antagonism. It was inevitable that this lamentable state of things

must continue, until it had been realised that one small body of men,

elected upon a variety of cross issues, could not safely be left in

charge of the defence of the Empire, the domestic welfare of the United

Kingdom, and the local government of its several units.

[Sidenote: ARTIFICIAL ANTAGONISMS]

It was not merely that the various aims were not opposed to one

another; they were actually helpful to one another. Often, indeed,

they were essential to the permanent success of one another. The man

who desired to improve the conditions of the poor was not, therefore,

the natural enemy of him who wanted to place the national defences on a

secure footing. And neither of these was the natural enemy of others

who wished to bring about a settlement of the Irish question, or of the

Constitutional question, or of the Imperial question. But owing partly

to the inadequacy of the machinery for giving a free course to these

various aspirations--partly to the fact that the machinery itself was

antiquated, in bad repair, and had become clogged with a variety of

obstructions--there was an unfortunate tendency on the part of every

one who had any particular object very much {216} at heart, to regard

every one else who was equally concerned about any other object as an

impediment in his path.

The need of the time, of course, was leadership--a great man--or better

still two great men, one on each side--like the blades of a pair of

scissors--to cut a way out of the confusion by bringing their keen

edges into contact. But obviously, the greater the confusion the

harder it is for leadership to assert itself. We may be sure enough

that there were men of character and capacity equal to the task if only

they could have been discovered. But they were not discovered.

There were other things besides the confusion of aims and ideas which

made it hard for leaders to emerge. The loose coherency of parties

which prevailed during the greater part of the nineteenth century had

given place to a set of highly organised machines, which employed

without remorse the oriental method of strangulation, against

everything in the nature of independent effort and judgment. The

politician class had increased greatly in numbers and influence. The

eminent and ornamental people who were returned to Westminster filled

the public eye, but they were only a small proportion of the whole; nor

is it certain that they exercised the largest share of authority. When

in the autumn of 1913 Sir John Brunner determined to prevent Mr.

Churchill from obtaining the provisions for the Navy which were judged

necessary for the safety of the Empire, the method adopted was to raise

the National Liberal Federation against the First Lord of the

Admiralty, and through the agency of that powerful organisation to

bring pressure to bear {217} upon the country, members of Parliament,

and the Cabinet itself.

[Sidenote: BAD MONEY DRIVES OUT GOOD]

It is unpopular to say that the House of Commons has deteriorated in

character, but it is true. An assembly, the members of which cannot

call their souls their own, will never tend in an upward direction.

The machines which are managed with so much energy and skill by the

external parasites of politics, have long ago taken over full

responsibility for the souls of their nominees. According to

'Gresham's law,' bad money, if admitted into currency, will always end

by driving out good. A similar principle has been at work for some

time past in British public life, by virtue of which the baser kind of

politicians, having got a footing, are driving out their betters at a

rapid pace. Few members of Parliament will admit this fact; but they

are not impartial judges, for every one is naturally averse from

disparaging an institution to which he belongs.

During the nineteenth century, except at the very beginning, and again

at the very end of it, very few people ever thought of going into

Parliament, or even into politics, in order that they might thrive

thereby, or find a field for improving their private fortunes. This

cannot be said with truth of the epoch which has just ended. There has

been a change both in tone and outlook during the last thirty years.

Things have been done and approved by the House of Commons, elected in

December 1910, which it is quite inconceivable that the House of

Commons, returned in 1880, would ever have entertained. The

Gladstonian era had its faults, but among them laxity in matters of

finance did not figure. Indeed private members, as well as statesmen,

not infrequently {218} crossed the border-line which separates purism

from pedantry; occasionally they carried strictness to the verge of

absurdity; but this was a fault in the right direction--a great

safeguard to the public interest, a peculiarly valuable tendency from

the standpoint of democracy.

A twelvemonth ago a number of very foolish persons were anxious to

persuade us that the predominant issue was the Army _versus_ the

People. But even the crispness of the phrase was powerless to convince

public opinion of so staggering an untruth. The predominant issue at

that particular moment was only what it had been for a good many years

before--the People _versus_ the Party System.

[Sidenote: NEED OF RICH MEN]

What is apt to be ignored is, that with the increase of wealth on the

one hand, and the extension of the franchise on the other, the Party

System has gradually become a vested interest upon an enormous

scale,--like the liquor trade of which we hear so much, or the _haute

finance_ of which perhaps we hear too little. Rich men are required in

politics, for the reason that it is necessary to feed and clothe the

steadily increasing swarms of mechanics who drive, and keep in repair,

and add to, that elaborate machinery by means of which the Sovereign

People is cajoled into the belief that its Will prevails. From the

point of view of the orthodox political economist these workers are as

unproductive as actors, bookmakers, or golf professionals; but they

have to be paid, otherwise they would starve, and the machines would

stop. So long as there are plenty of rich men who desire to become

even richer, or to decorate their names with titles, or to move in

shining circles, this is not at all likely to occur, unless the Party

System {219} suddenly collapsed, in which case there would be acute

distress.

There are various grades of these artisans or mechanicians of politics,

from the professional organiser or agent who, upon the whole, is no

more open to criticism than any other class of mankind which works

honestly for its living--down to the committee-man who has no use for a

candidate unless he keeps a table from which large crumbs fall in

profusion. The man who supplements his income by means of politics is

a greater danger than the other who openly makes politics his vocation.

The jobbing printer, enthusiastically pacifist or protectionist, well

paid for his hand-bills, and aspiring to more substantial contracts;

the smart, ingratiating organiser, or hustling, bustling journalist,

who receives a complimentary cheque, or a bundle of scrip, or a seat on

a board of directors from the patron whom he has helped to win an

election--very much as at ill-regulated shooting parties the

head-keeper receives exorbitant tips from wealthy sportsmen whom he has

placed to their satisfaction--all these are deeply interested in the

preservation of the Party System. Innocent folk are often heard

wondering why candidates with such strange names--even stranger

appearance--accents and manner of speech which are strangest of

all--are brought forward so frequently to woo the suffrages of urban

constituencies. Clearly they are not chosen on account of their

political knowledge; for they have none. There are other aspirants to

political honours who, in comeliness and charm of manner, greatly excel

them; whose speech is more eloquent, or at any rate less

unintelligible. Yet London caucuses in particular have {220} a great

tenderness for these bejewelled patriots, and presumably there must be

reasons for the preference which they receive. One imagines that in

some inscrutable way they are essential props of the Party System in

its modern phase.

The drawing together of the world by steam and electricity has brought

conspicuous benefits to the British Empire. The five self-governing

nations of which it is composed come closer together year by year.

Statesmen and politicians broaden the horizons of their minds by swift

and easy travel. But there are drawbacks as well as the reverse under

these new conditions. To some extent the personnel of democracy has

tended to become interchangeable, like the parts of a bicycle; and

public characters are able to transfer their activities from one state

to another, and even from one hemisphere to another, without a great

deal of difficulty. This has certain advantages, but possibly more

from the point of view of the individual than from that of the

Commonwealth. After failure in one sphere there is still hope in

another. Mr. Micawber, or even Jeremy Diddler, may go the round, using

up public confidence at one resting-place after another. For the Party

System is a ready employer, and providing a man has a glib tongue, a

forehead of brass, or an open purse, a position will be found for him

without too much enquiry made into his previous references.

[Sidenote: LAWYERISM AND LEADERSHIP]

In a world filled with confusion and illusion the Party System has

fought at great advantage. Indeed it is generally believed to be so

firmly entrenched that nothing can ever dislodge it. There are

dangers, however, in arguing too confidently from use and wont.

Conspicuous failure or disaster might bring {221} ruin on this revered

institution, as it has often done in history upon others no less

venerable. The Party System has its weak side. Its wares are mainly

make-believes, and if a hurricane happens to burst suddenly, the caucus

may be left in no better plight than Alnaschar with his overturned

basket. The Party System is not invulnerable against a great man or a

great idea. But of recent years it has been left at peace to go its

own way, for the reason that no such man or idea has emerged, around

which the English people have felt that they could cluster confidently.

There has been no core on which human crystals could precipitate and

attach themselves, following the bent of their nature towards a firm

and clear belief--or towards the prowess of a man--or towards a Man

possessed by a Belief. The typical party leader during this epoch has

neither been a man in the heroic sense, nor has he had any belief that

could be called firm or clear. For the most part he has been merely a

Whig or Tory tradesman, dealing in opportunism; and for the

predominance of the Party System this set of conditions was almost

ideal. It was inconceivable that a policy of wait-and-see could ever

resolve a situation of this sort. To fall back on lawyerism was

perhaps inevitable in the circumstances; but to think that it was

possible to substitute lawyerism for leadership was absurd.

And yet amid this confusion we were aware--even at the time--and can

see much more clearly now the interlude is ended--that there were three

great ideas running through it all, struggling to emerge, to make

themselves understood, and to get themselves realised. But

unfortunately what were realities to ordinary men were only counters

according {222} to the reckoning of the party mechanicians. The

_first_ aim and the _second_--the improvement of the organisation of

society and the conditions of the poor--the freeing of local

aspirations and the knitting together of the empire--were held in

common by the great mass of the British people, although they were

viewed by one section and another from different angles of vision. The

_third_ aim, however--the adequate defence of the empire--was not

regarded warmly, or even with much active interest, by any organised

section. The people who considered it most earnestly were not engaged

in party politics. The manipulators of the machines looked upon the

_first_ and the _second_ as means whereby power might be gained or

retained, but they looked askance upon the _third_ as a perilous

problem which it was wiser and safer to leave alone. The great

principles with which the names--among others--of Mr. Chamberlain, Lord

Roberts, and Mr. Lloyd George are associated, were at no point opposed

one to another. Each indeed was dependent upon the other two for its

full realisation. And yet, under the artificial entanglements of the

Party System, the vigorous pursuit of any one of the three seemed to

imperil the success of both its competitors.

{223}

CHAPTER III

POLICY AND ARMAMENTS

In the post-Victorian epoch, which we have been engaged in considering,

the aim of British foreign policy may be summed up in one

word--Security. It was not aggression; it was not revenge; it was not

conquest, or even expansion of territories; it was simply Security.

It would be absurd, of course, to imagine that security is wholly, or

even mainly, a question of military preparations. "All this is but a

sheep in a lion's skin, where the people are of weak courage;" or where

for any reason, the people are divided among themselves or disaffected

towards their government.

The defences of every nation are of two kinds, the organised and the

unorganised; the disciplined strength of the Navy and the Army on the

one hand, the vigour and spirit of the people upon the other.

The vigour of the people will depend largely upon the conditions under

which they live, upon sufficiency of food, the healthiness or otherwise

of their employments and homes, the proper nourishment and upbringing

of their children. It is not enough that rates of wages should be

good, if those who earn them {224} have not the knowledge how to use

them to the best advantage. It is not always where incomes are lowest

that the conditions of life are worst. Measured by infant mortality,

and by the health and general happiness of the community, the crofters

of Scotland, who are very poor, seem to have learned the lesson _how to

live_ better than the highly paid workers in many of our great

manufacturing towns.

Education--by which is meant not merely board-school instruction, but

the influence of the home and the surrounding society--is not a less

necessary condition of vigour than wages, sanitary regulations, and

such like. The spiritual as well as the physical training of children,

the nature of their amusements, the bent of their interests, the

character of their aims and ideals, at that critical period when the

boy or girl is growing into manhood or womanhood--all these are things

which conduce directly, as well as indirectly, to the vigour of the

race. They are every bit as much a part of our system of national

defence as the manoeuvring of army corps and the gun-practice of

dreadnoughts.

The _spirit_ of the people, on the other hand, will depend for its

strength upon their attachment to their own country; upon their

affection for its customs, laws, and institutions; upon a belief in the

general fairness and justice of its social arrangements; upon the good

relations of the various classes of which society is composed. The

spirit of national unity is indispensable even in the case of the most

powerful autocracy. It is the very foundation of democracy. Lacking

it, popular government is but a house of cards, which the first serious

challenge from without, or the first strong outburst of {225}

discontent from within will bring tumbling to the ground. Such a

feeling of unity can only spring from the prevalence of an opinion

among every class of the community, that their own system, with all its

faults, is better suited to their needs, habits, and traditions than

any other, and that it is worth preserving, even at the cost of the

greatest sacrifices, from foreign conquest and interference.

[Sidenote: A TWO-HEADED PRINCIPLE]

While a people sapped by starvation and disease will be wanting in the

_vigour_ necessary for offering a prolonged and strenuous resistance,

so will a people, seething with class hatred and a sense of tyranny and

injustice, be wanting in the _spirit_. The problem, however, of these

unorganised defences, fundamental though it is, stands outside the

scope of the present chapter, which is concerned solely with those

defences which are organised.

The beginning of wisdom with respect to all problems of defence is the

recognition of the two-headed principle that _Policy depends on

Armaments just as certainly as Armaments depend on Policy_.

The duty of the Admiralty and the War Office is to keep their armaments

abreast of the national endeavour. It is folly to do more: it is

madness to do less. The duty of the Foreign Minister is to restrain

and hold back his policy, and to prevent it from ambitiously outrunning

the capacity of the armaments which are at his disposal. If he does

otherwise the end is likely to be humiliation and disaster.

When any nation is unable or unwilling to provide the armaments

necessary for supporting the policy which it has been accustomed to

pursue and would {226} like to maintain, it should have the sense to

abandon that policy for something of a humbler sort before the bluff is

discovered by the world.[1]

It may possibly appear absurd to dwell with so much insistence upon a

pair of propositions which, when they are set down in black and white,

will at once be accepted as self-evident by ninety-nine men out of a

hundred. But plain and obvious as they are, none in the whole region

of politics have been more frequently ignored. These two principles

have been constantly presenting themselves to the eyes of statesmen in

a variety of different shapes ever since history began.

It may very easily happen that the particular policy which the desire

for security requires, is one which the strength of the national

armaments at a given moment will not warrant the country in pursuing.

Faced with this unpleasant quandary, what is Government to do, if it be

convinced of the futility of trying to persuade the people to incur the

sacrifices necessary for realising the national aspirations? Is it to

give up the traditional policy, and face the various consequences which

it is reasonable to anticipate? Or is it to persevere in the policy,

and continue acting as if the forces at its disposal were sufficient

for its purpose, when in fact they are nothing of the kind? To follow

the former course {227} calls for a surrender which the spirit of the

people will not easily endure, and which may even be fatal to the

independent existence of the state. But to enter upon the latter is

conduct worthy of a fraudulent bankrupt, since it trades upon an

imposture, which, when it is found out by rival nations, will probably

be visited by still severer penalties.

But surely Government has only to make it clear to the people that,

unless they are willing to bring their armaments abreast of their

policy, national aspirations must be baulked and even national safety

itself may be endangered. When men are made to understand these

things, will they not certainly agree to do what is necessary, though

they may give their consent with reluctance?[2]

[Sidenote: POLITICAL DIFFICULTIES]

It is very certain, however, that this outside view of the case

enormously underrates the difficulties which stare the politician out

of countenance. In matters of this sort it is not so easy a thing to

arrive at the truth; much less to state it with such force and

clearness that mankind will at once recognise it for truth, and what is

said to the contrary for falsehood. The intentions of foreign

governments, and the dangers arising out of that quarter, are subjects

which it is singularly difficult to discuss frankly, without incurring

the very evils which every government seeks to avoid. And if these

things are not easy to discuss, it is exceedingly easy for faction or

fanatics to misrepresent them.[3] Moreover, the lamentations of the

Hebrew prophets bear witness to the {228} deafness and blindness of

generations into whom actual experience of the evils foretold had not

already burnt the lesson which it was desired to teach. Evils which

have never been suffered are hard things to clothe with reality until

it is too late, and words, even the most eloquent and persuasive, are

but a poor implement for the task.

The policy of a nation is determined upon, so as to accord with what it

conceives to be its honour, safety, and material interests. In the

natural course of events this policy may check, or be checked by, the

policy of some other nation. The efforts of diplomacy may be

successful in clearing away these obstructions. If so, well and good;

but if not, there is nothing left to decide the issue between the two

nations but the stern arbitrament of war.

Moreover, diplomacy itself is dependent upon armaments in somewhat the

same sense as the prosperity of a merchant is dependent upon his credit

with his bankers. The news system of the world has undergone a

revolution since the days before steam and telegraphs. It is not

merely more rapid, but much ampler. The various governments are kept

far more fully informed of one another's affairs, and as a consequence

the great issues between nations have become clear and sharp. The most

crafty and smooth-tongued ambassador can rarely wheedle his opponents

into concessions which are contrary to their interests, unless he has

something more to rely upon than his own guile and plausibility. Army

corps and battle fleets looming in the distance are better persuaders

than the subtlest arguments and the deftest flattery.

What, then, is the position of a statesman who {229} finds himself

confronted by a clash of policies, if, when the diplomatic deadlock

occurs, he realises that his armaments are insufficient to support his

aim? In such an event he is faced with the alternative of letting

judgment go by default, or of adding almost certain military disaster

to the loss of those political stakes for which his nation is

contending with its rival. Such a position must be ignominious in the

extreme; it might even be ruinous; and yet it would be the inevitable

fate of any country whose ministers had neglected the maxim that policy

in the last resort is dependent upon armaments.

[Sidenote: EXAMPLE OF CHINA]

If we are in search of an example we shall find it ready to our hand.

The Empire of China is comparable to our own at least in numbers; for

each of them contains, as nearly as may be, one quarter of the whole

human race. And as China has hitherto failed utterly to make her

armaments sufficient, under the stress of modern conditions, to support

even that meek and passive policy of possession which she has

endeavoured to pursue, so she has been compelled to watch in

helplessness while her policy has been disregarded by every adventurer.

She has been pressed by all the nations of the world and obliged to

yield to their demands. Humiliating concessions have been wrung from

her; favours even more onerous, in the shape of loans, have been forced

upon her. The resources with which nature has endowed her have been

exploited by foreigners against her will. Her lands have been shorn

from her and parcelled out among those who were strong, and who

hungered after them. This conquest and robbery has proceeded both by

wholesale and retail. {230} Because she yielded this to one claimant,

another, to keep the balance even, has insisted upon that. Safe and

convenient harbours, fortified places, islands, vast stretches of

territory, have been demanded and taken from her almost without a

struggle; and all this time she has abstained with a timid caution from

anything which can justly be termed provocation. For more than half a

century, none the less, China has not been mistress in her own house.

The reason of this is plain enough--China had possessions which other

nations coveted, and she failed to provide herself with the armaments

which were necessary to maintain them.

The British people likewise had possessions which other nations

coveted--lands to take their settlers, markets to buy their goods,

plantations to yield them raw materials. If it were our set

determination to hold what our forefathers won, two things were

necessary: the first, that our policy should conform to this aim; the

second, that our armaments should be sufficient to support our policy.

A nation which desired to extend its possessions, to round off its

territories, to obtain access to the sea, would probably regard

conquest, or at all events absorption, as its highest immediate

interest. This would be the constant aim of its policy, and if its

armaments did not conform to this policy, the aim would not be

realised. Examples both of failure and success are to be found in the

history of Russia from the time of Peter the Great, and in that of

Prussia from the days of the Great Elector.

A nation--like England or Holland in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and

eighteenth centuries--which {231} was seeking to secure against its

commercial rivals, if necessary by force of arms, new markets among

civilised but unmilitary races, would require a policy and armaments to

correspond.

[Sidenote: BRITISH CONTENTMENT]

The British Empire in the stage of development which it had reached at

the end of the Victorian era did not aim at acquisition of fresh

territories or new markets, save such as might be won peacefully by the

skill and enterprise of its merchants. It sought only to hold what it

already possessed, to develop its internal resources, and to retain

equal rights with its commercial rivals in neutral spheres. But in

order that those unaggressive objects might be realised, there was need

of a policy, different indeed from that of Elizabeth, of Cromwell, or

of Chatham, but none the less clear and definite with regard to its own

ends. And to support this policy there was need of armaments, suitable

in scale and character.

It was frequently pointed out between the years 1901 and 1914 (and it

lay at the very root of the matter), that while we were perfectly

satisfied with things as they stood, and should have been more than

content--regarding the subject from the standpoint of our own

interests--to have left the map of the world for ever, as it then was

drawn, another nation was by no means so well pleased with existing

arrangements. To this envious rival it appeared that we had taken more

than our fair share--as people are apt to do who come early. We had

wider territories than we could yet fill with our own people; while our

neighbour foresaw an early date at which his race would be overflowing

its boundaries. We had limitless resources in the Dominions and

Dependencies {232} overseas, which when developed would provide a

united empire with markets of inestimable value. In these respects

Germany was in a less favourable position. Indeed, with the exceptions

of Russia and the United States, no other great Power was so

fortunately placed as ourselves; and even these two nations, although

they had an advantage over the British Empire by reason of their huge

compact and coterminous territories, still did not equal it in the

vastness and variety of their undeveloped resources.

Clearly, therefore, the policy which the needs of our Commonwealth

required at this great turning-point in its history, was not only

something different from that of any other great Power, but also

something different from that which had served our own purposes in

times gone by. Like China, our aim was peaceful possession. Unlike

China, we ought to have kept in mind the conditions under which alone

this aim was likely to be achieved. It might be irksome and contrary

to our peaceful inclinations to maintain great armaments when we no

longer dreamed of making conquests; but in the existing state of the

world, armaments were unfortunately quite as necessary for the purpose

of enabling us to hold what we possessed, as they ever were when our

forefathers set out to win the Empire.

[Sidenote: COMMITTEE OF IMPERIAL DEFENCE]

In 1904, with the object of promoting harmony between the policy and

armaments of the British Empire, Mr. Balfour created the Committee of

Imperial Defence. This was undoubtedly a step of great importance.

His purpose was to introduce a system, by means of which ministers and

high officials responsible for the Navy and Army would {233} be kept in

close touch with the trend of national policy, in so far as it might

affect the relations of the Commonwealth with foreign Powers. In like

manner those other ministers and high officials, whose business it was

to conduct our diplomacy, maintain an understanding with the Dominions,

administer our Dependencies, and govern India, would be made thoroughly

conversant with the limitations to our naval and military strength.

Having this knowledge, they would not severally embark on

irreconcilable or impracticable projects or drift unknowingly into

dangerous complications. The conception of the Committee of Imperial

Defence, therefore, was due to a somewhat tardy recognition of the

two-headed principle, that armaments are mere waste of money unless

they conform to policy, and that policy in the last resort must depend

on armaments.

The Committee was maintained by Mr. Balfour's successors, and was not

allowed (as too often happens when there is a change of government) to

fall into discredit and disuse.[4] But in order that this body of

statesmen and experts might achieve the ends in view, it was essential

for them to have realised clearly, not only the general object of

British policy--which indeed was contained in the single word

'Security'--but also the special dangers which loomed in the near

future. They had then to consider what reciprocal obligations had

already been contracted with other nations, whose interests were to

some extent the same as our own, and what further undertakings of a

similar character it might be desirable to enter {234} into. Finally,

there were the consequences which these obligations and undertakings

would entail in certain contingencies. It was not enough merely to

mumble the word 'Security' and leave it at that. What security implied

in the then existing state of the world was a matter which required to

be investigated in a concrete, practical, and business-like way.

Unfortunately, the greater part of these essential preliminaries was

omitted, and as a consequence, the original idea of the Committee of

Imperial Defence was never realised. Harmonious, flexible, and of

considerable utility in certain directions, it did not work

satisfactorily as a whole. The trend of policy was, no doubt, grasped

in a general way; but, as subsequent events have proved, the conditions

on which alone that line could be maintained, and the consequences

which it involved, were not at any time clearly understood and boldly

faced by this august body in its corporate capacity.

The general direction may have been settled; but certainly the course

was not marked out; the rocks and shoals remained for the most part

uncharted. The committee, no doubt, had agreed upon a certain number

of vague propositions, as, for example, that France must not be crushed

by Germany, or the neutrality of Belgium violated by any one. They

knew that we were committed to certain obligations--or, as some people

called them, 'entanglements'--and that these again, in certain

circumstances, might commit us to others. But what the whole amounted

to was not realised in barest outline, by the country, or by

Parliament, or by the Government, or even, we may safely conjecture, by

the Committee itself. {235} We have the right to say this, because, if

British policy had been realised as a whole by the Committee of

Imperial Defence, it would obviously have been communicated to the

Cabinet, and in its broader aspects to the people; and this was never

done. It is inconceivable that any Prime Minister, who believed, as

Mr. Asquith does, in democratic principles, would have left the country

uneducated, and his own colleagues unenlightened, on a matter of so

great importance, had his own mind been clearly made up.

[Sidenote: CONFUSION WHEN WAR OCCURRED]

When the crisis occurred in July 1914, when Germany proceeded to

action, when events took place which for years past had been foretold

and discussed very fully on both sides of the North Sea, it was as if a

bolt had fallen from the blue. Uncertainty was apparent in all

quarters. The very thing which had been so often talked of had

happened. Germany was collecting her armies and preparing to crush

France. The neutrality of Belgium was threatened. Yet up to, and on,

Sunday, August 2, there was doubt and hesitation in the Cabinet, and

until some days later, also in Parliament and the country.[5]

When, finally, it was decided to declare war, the course of action

which that step required still appears to have remained obscure to our

rulers. Until the Thursday following it was not decided to send the

Expeditionary Force abroad. Then, out of timidity, only two-thirds of

it were sent.[6] Transport arrangements which were all ready for

moving the whole force had to be hastily readjusted. The delay was

{236} not less injurious than the parsimony; and the combination of the

two nearly proved fatal.

If the minds of the people and their leaders were not prepared for what

happened, if in the moral sense there was unreadiness; still more

inadequate were all preparations of the material kind--not only the

actual numbers of our Army, but also the whole system for providing

expansion, training, equipment, and munitions. It is asking too much

of us to believe that events could have happened as they did in England

during the fortnight which followed the presentation of the Austrian

Ultimatum to Servia, had the Committee of Imperial Defence and its

distinguished president taken pains beforehand to envisage clearly the

conditions and consequences involved in their policy of 'Security.'

As regards naval preparations, things were better indeed than might

have been expected, considering the vagueness of ideas in the matter of

policy. We were safeguarded here by tradition, and the general idea of

direction had been nearly sufficient. There was always trouble, but

not as a rule serious trouble, in establishing the case for increases

necessary to keep ahead of German efforts. There had been pinchings

and parings--especially in the matter of fast cruisers, for lack of

which, when war broke out, we suffered heavy losses--but except in one

instance--the abandonment of the Cawdor programme--these had not

touched our security at any vital point.

Thanks largely to Mr. Stead, but also to statesmen of both parties, and

to a succession of Naval Lords who did not hesitate, when occasion

required it, to risk their careers (as faithful servants ever will)

rather than certify safety where they saw danger--thanks, {237}

perhaps, most of all to a popular instinct, deeply implanted in the

British mind, which had grasped the need for supremacy at sea--our

naval preparations, upon the whole, had kept abreast of our policy for

nearly thirty years.

As regards the Army, however, it was entirely different. There had

been no intelligent effort to keep our military strength abreast of our

policy; and as, in many instances, it would have been too bitter a

humiliation to keep our policy within the limits of our military

strength, the course actually pursued can only be described fitly as a

game of bluff.

There had never been anything approaching agreement with regard to the

functions which the Army was expected to perform. Not only did

political parties differ one from another upon this primary and

fundamental question, but hardly two succeeding War Ministers had

viewed it in the same light. There had been schemes of a bewildering

variety; but as the final purpose for which soldiers existed had never

yet been frankly laid down and accepted, each of these plans in turn

had been discredited by attacks, which called in question the very

basis of the proposed reformation.

[Sidenote: THE NAVAL POSITION]

While naval policy had been framed and carried out in accordance with

certain acknowledged necessities of national existence, military policy

had been alternately expanded and deflated in order to assuage the

anxieties, while conforming to the prejudices--real or supposed--of the

British public. In the case of the fleet, we had very fortunately

arrived, more than a generation ago, at the point where it was a

question of what the country needed; as regards the {238} Army, it was

still a question of what the country would stand. But how could even a

politician know what the country would stand until the full case had

been laid before the country? How was it that while Ministers of both

parties had the courage to put the issue more or less nakedly in the

matter of ships, they grew timid as soon as the discussion turned on

army corps? If the needs of the Commonwealth were to be the touchstone

in the one case, why not also in the other? The country will stand a

great deal more than the politicians think; and it will stand almost

anything better than vacillation, evasion, and untruth. In army

matters, unfortunately, it has had experience of little else since the

battle of Waterloo.

Mathematicians, metaphysicians, and economists have a fondness for what

is termed 'an assumption.' They take for granted something which it

would be inconvenient or impossible to prove, and thereupon proceed to

build upon it a fabric which compels admiration in a less or greater

degree, by reason of its logical consistency. There is no great harm

in this method so long as the conclusions, which are drawn from the

airy calculations of the study, are confined to the peaceful region of

their birth; but so soon as they begin to sally forth into the harsh

world of men and affairs, they are apt to break at once into shivers.

When the statesman makes an assumption he does so at his peril; or,

perhaps, to speak more correctly, at the peril of his country. For if

it be a false assumption the facts will speedily find it out, and

disasters will inevitably ensue.

[Sidenote: TWO INCORRECT ASSUMPTIONS]

Our Governments, Tory and Radical alike, have {239} acted in recent

times as if the British Army were what their policy required it to

be--something, that is, entirely different from what it really was.

Judging by its procedure, the Foreign Office would appear to have made

the singularly bold assumption that, in a military comparison with

other nations, Britain was still in much the same relative position as

in the days of Napoleon. Sustained by this tenacious but fantastic

tradition, Ministers have not infrequently engaged in policies which

wiser men would have avoided. They have uttered protests, warnings,

threats which have gone unheeded. They have presumed to say what would

and would not be tolerated in certain spheres; but having nothing

better behind their despatches than a mere assumption which did not

correspond with the facts, they have been compelled to endure rebuffs

and humiliations. As they had not the prudence to cut their coat

according to their cloth, it was only natural that occasionally they

should have had to appear before the world in a somewhat ridiculous

guise.

British statesmen for nearly half a century had persisted in acting

upon two most dangerous assumptions. They had assumed that one branch

of the national armaments conformed to their policy, when in fact it

did not. And they had assumed also, which is equally fatal, that

policy, if only it be virtuous and unaggressive, is in some mysterious

way self-supporting, and does not need to depend on armaments at all.

The military preparations of Britain were inadequate to maintain the

policy of Security, which British Governments had nevertheless been

engaged in pursuing for many years prior to the outbreak of {240} the

present war.[7] On the other hand, the abandonment of this policy was

incompatible with the continuance of the Empire. We could not hope to

hold our scattered Dependencies and to keep our Dominions safe against

encroachments unless we were prepared to incur the necessary sacrifices.

[1] American writers have urged criticism of this sort against the

armaments of the U.S.A., which they allege are inadequate to uphold the

policy of the 'Monroe Doctrine.' The German view of the matter has

been stated by the Chancellor (April 7, 1913) when introducing the Army

Bill:--"History knows of no people which came to disaster because it

had exhausted itself in the making of its defences; but history knows

of many peoples which have perished, because, living in prosperity and

luxury, they neglected their defences. A people which thinks that it

is not rich enough to maintain its armaments shows merely that it has

played its part."

[2] So the argument runs, and the course of our naval policy since Mr.

Stead's famous press campaign in 1884 will be cited as an encouragement.

[3] _E.g._ in the winter of 1908 and spring of 1909, when an

influential section of the supporters of the present Cabinet chose to

believe the false assurances of the German Admiralty, and freely

accused their own Government of mendacity.

[4] Innovations of this particular sort have possibly a better chance

of preserving their existence than some others. 'Boards are screens,'

wrote John Stuart Mill, or some other profound thinker; and in politics

screens are always useful.

[5] This is obvious from the White Paper without seeking further

evidence in the ministerial press or elsewhere.

[6] Of the six infantry divisions included in the Expeditionary Force

only four were sent in the first instance; a fifth arrived about August

24; a sixth about mid-September.

[7] "Our Army, as a belligerent factor in European politics, is almost

a negligible quantity. This Empire is at all times practically

defenceless beyond its first line. Such an Empire invites war. Its

assumed security amid the armaments of Europe, and now of Asia, is

insolent and provocative" (Lord Roberts, October 22, 1912). Nothing

indeed is more insolent and provocative, or more likely to lead to a

breach of the peace, than undefended riches among armed men.

{241}

CHAPTER IV

THE BALANCE OF POWER

During the whole period of rather more than thirteen years--which has

been referred to in previous pages as the post-Victorian epoch, and

which extended roughly from January 1901, when Queen Victoria died, to

July 1914, when war was declared--the British Army remained inadequate

for the purpose of upholding that policy which British statesmen of

both parties, and the British people, both at home and in the

Dominions, were engaged in pursuing--whether they knew it or not--and

were bound to pursue, unless they were prepared to sacrifice their

independence.

The aim of that policy was the security of the whole empire. This much

at any rate was readily conceded on all hands. It was not enough,

however, that we approved the general aim of British policy. A broad

but clear conception of the means by which our Government hoped to

maintain this policy, and the sacrifices which the country would have

to make in order to support this policy, was no less necessary. So

soon, however, as we began to ask for further particulars, we found

ourselves in the region of acute controversy. 'Security' was a

convenient political formula, which could be accepted as readily by the

{242} man who placed his trust in international law, as by his

neighbour who believed in battle fleets and army corps.

In considering this question of security we could not disregard Europe,

for Europe was still the storm-centre of the world. We could not

afford to turn a blind eye towards the ambitions and anxieties of the

great continental Powers. We were bound to take into account not only

their visions but their nightmares. We could not remain indifferent to

their groupings and alliances, or to the strength and dispositions of

their armaments.

That the United Kingdom was a pair of islands lying on the western edge

of Europe, and that the rest of the British Empire was remote, and

unwilling to be interested in the rivalries of the Teuton, Slav, and

Latin races, did not affect the matter in the least. Nowadays no

habitable corner of the earth is really remote; and as for willingness

or unwillingness to be interested, that had nothing at all to do with

the question. For it was clear that any Power, which succeeded in

possessing itself of the suzerainty of Europe, could redraw the map of

the world at its pleasure, and blow the Monroe Doctrine, no less than

the British Empire, sky-high.

Looking across thousands of leagues of ocean, it was difficult for the

Dominions and the United States to understand how their fortunes, and

the ultimate fate of their cherished institutions, could possibly be

affected by the turmoil and jealousies of--what appeared in their eyes

to be--a number of reactionary despotisms and chauvinistic democracies.

Even the hundred and twenty leagues which separate Hull from Emden, or

the seven which divide Dover from Calais, were enough to convince many

people {243} in the United Kingdom that we could safely allow Europe to

'stew in her own juice.' But unfortunately for this theory, unless a

great continental struggle ended like the battle of the Kilkenny cats,

the outside world was likely to find itself in an awkward predicament,

when the conqueror chose to speak with it in the gates, at a time of

his own choosing.

British policy since 1901 had tended, with ever increasing

self-consciousness, towards the definite aim of preventing Germany from

acquiring the suzerainty of Western Europe. It was obvious that German

predominance, if secured, must ultimately force the other continental

nations, either into a German alliance, or into a neutrality favourable

to German interests. German policy would then inevitably be directed

towards encroachments upon British possessions. Germany had already

boldly proclaimed her ambitions overseas. Moreover, she would find it

pleasanter to compensate, and soothe the susceptibilities of those

nations whom she had overcome in diplomacy or war, and to reward their

subsequent services as allies and friendly neutrals, by paying them out

of our property rather than out of her own. For this reason, if for no

other, we were deeply concerned that Germany should not dominate Europe

if we could help it.

[Sidenote: GERMAN AIMS]

During this period, on the other hand, Germany appeared to be setting

herself more and more seriously to acquire this domination. Each

succeeding year her writers expressed themselves in terms of greater

candour and confidence. Her armaments were following her policy. The

rapid creation of a fleet--the counterpart of the greatest army in

Europe--and the recent additions to the striking power of her {244}

already enormous army could have no other object. Certainly from 1909

onwards, it was impossible to regard German preparations as anything

else than a challenge, direct or indirect, to the security of the

British Empire.

Consequently the direction of British policy returned, gradually,

unavowedly, but with certainty, to its old lines, and became once more

concerned with the maintenance of the _Balance of Power_ as the prime

necessity. The means adopted were the Triple Entente between Britain,

France, and Russia. The object of this understanding was to resist the

anticipated aggressions of the Triple Alliance, wherein Germany was the

predominant partner.

[Sidenote: DERELICT MAXIMS]

The tendency of phrases, as they grow old, is to turn into totems, for

and against which political parties, and even great nations, fight

unreasoningly. But before we either yield our allegiance to any of

these venerable formulas, or decide to throw it out on the scrap-heap,

there are advantages in looking to see whether or not there is some

underlying meaning which may be worth attending to. It occasionally

happens that circumstances have changed so much since the original idea

was first crystallised in words, that the old saying contains no value

or reality whatsoever for the present generation. More often, however,

there is something of permanent importance behind, if only we can

succeed in tearing off the husk of prejudice in which it has become

encased. So, according to Disraeli, "the _divine right_ of Kings may

have been a plea for feeble tyrants, but the divine right of government

is the keystone of human progress." For many years the phrase _British

interests_, which used to figure so largely in speeches {245} and

leading articles, has dropped out of use, because it had come to be

associated unfavourably with bond-holders' dividends. The fact that it

also implied national honour and prestige, the performance of duties

and the burden of responsibilities was forgotten. Even the doctrine of

_laissez faire_, which politicians of all parties have lately agreed to

abjure and contemn, has, as regards industrial affairs, a large kernel

of practical wisdom and sound policy hidden away in it. But of all

these derelict maxims, that which until quite recently, appeared to be

suffering from the greatest neglect, was the need for maintaining the

_Balance of Power_ in Europe. For close on two generations it had

played no overt part in public controversy, except when some Tory

matador produced it defiantly as a red rag to infuriate the Radical

bull.

If this policy of the maintenance of the _Balance of Power_ has been

little heard of since Waterloo, the reason is that since then, until

quite recently, the _Balance of Power_ has never appeared to be

seriously threatened.[1] And because the policy of maintaining this

balance was in abeyance, many people have come to believe that it was

discredited. Because it was not visibly and actively in use it was

supposed to have become entirely useless.

This policy can never become useless. It must inevitably come into

play, so soon as any Power appears to be aiming at the mastery of the

continent. It will ever remain a matter of life or death, to the

United Kingdom and to the British Empire, that no continental state

shall be allowed to obtain {246} command, directly or indirectly, of

the resources, diplomacy, and armaments of Europe.

In the sixteenth century we fought Philip of of Spain to prevent him

from acquiring European predominance. In the seventeenth, eighteenth,

and nineteenth centuries we fought Louis XIV., Louis XV., and Napoleon

for the same reason. In order to preserve the balance of power, and

with it our own security, it was our interest under Elizabeth to

prevent the Netherlands from being crushed by Spain. Under later

monarchs it was our interest to prevent the Netherlands, the lesser

German States, Prussia, Austria, and finally the whole of Europe from

being crushed by France. And we can as ill afford to-day to allow

France to be crushed by Germany, or Holland and Belgium to fall into

her power. The wheel has come round full circle, but the essential

British interest remains constant.

The wheel is always turning, sometimes slowly, sometimes with startling

swiftness. Years hence the present alliances will probably be

discarded. It may be that some day the danger of a European

predominance will appear from a different quarter--from one of our

present allies, or from some upstart state which may rise to power with

an even greater rapidity than the Electorate of Brandenburg. Or it may

be that before long the New World, in fact as well as phrase, may have

come in to redress the balance of the Old. We cannot say, because we

cannot foresee what the future holds in store. But from the opening of

the present century, the immediate danger came from Germany, who hardly

troubled to conceal the fact that she was aiming at predominance by

mastery of the Low Countries and by crushing France.

{247}

[Sidenote: CONDITIONS OF BRITISH FREEDOM]

That this danger was from time to time regarded seriously by a section

of the British Cabinet, we know from their own statements both before

war broke out and subsequently. It was no chimera confined to the

imaginations of irresponsible and panic-stricken writers. In sober

truth the balance of power in Europe was in as much danger, and the

maintenance of it had become as supreme a British interest, under a

Liberal government at the beginning of the twentieth century, as it

ever was under a Whig government at the close of the seventeenth and

opening of the eighteenth.

The stealthy return of this doctrine into the region of practical

politics was not due to the prejudices of the party which happened to

be in power. Quite the contrary. Most Liberals distrusted the phrase.

The whole mass of the Radicals abhorred it. The idea which lay under

and behind the phrase was nevertheless irresistible, because it arose

out of the facts. Had a Socialist Government held office, this policy

must equally have imposed itself and been accepted with a good or ill

grace, for the simple reason that, unless the balance of power is

maintained in Europe, there can be no security for British freedom,

under which we mean, with God's help, to work out our own problems in

our own way.

English statesmen had adopted this policy in fact, if

unavowedly--perhaps even to some extent unconsciously--when they first

entered into, and afterwards confirmed, the Triple Entente. And having

once entered into the Triple Entente it was obvious that, without

risking still graver consequences, we could never resume the detached

position which we occupied before we took that step. It is difficult

to {248} believe--seeing how the danger of German predominance

threatened France and Russia as well as ourselves--that we should not

have excited the ill-will of those two countries had we refused to make

common cause by joining the Triple Entente. It was obvious, however,

to every one that we could not afterwards retire from this association

without incurring their hostility. If we had withdrawn we should have

been left, not merely without a friend in Europe, but with all the

chief Powers in Europe our enemies--ready upon the first favourable

occasion to combine against us.

There is only one precedent in our history for so perilous a

situation--when Napoleon forced Europe into a combination against us in

1806. And this precedent, though it then threatened our Empire with

grave dangers, did not threaten it with dangers comparable in gravity

with those which menaced us a century later.

The consequences of breaking away from the Triple Entente were

sufficiently plain. "We may build ships against one nation, or even

against a combination of nations. But we cannot build ships against

half Europe. If Western Europe, with all its ports, its harbours, its

arsenals, and its resources, was to fall under the domination of a

single will, no effort of ours would be sufficient to retain the

command of the sea. It is a balance of power on the continent, which

alone makes it possible for us to retain it. Thus the maintenance of

the balance of power is vital to our superiority at sea, which again is

vital to the security of the British Empire."[2]

{249}

Security in the widest sense was the ultimate end of our

policy--security of mind, security from periodic panic, as well as

actual military security. Looked at more closely, the immediate end

was defence--the defence of the British Empire and of the United

Kingdom.

[Sidenote: DEFENCE AND INVASION]

In the existing condition of the world a policy of 'splendid isolation'

was no longer possible. Conditions with which we are familiar in

commercial affairs, had presented themselves in the political sphere,

and co-operation on a large scale had become necessary in order to

avoid bankruptcy. England had entered into the Triple Entente because

her statesmen realised, clearly or vaguely, that by doing so we should

be better able to defend our existence, and for no other reason.

After 1911 it must have been obvious to most people who considered the

matter carefully that in certain events the Triple Entente would become

an alliance. It is the interest as well as the duty of allies to stand

by one another from first to last, and act together in the manner most

likely to result in victory for the alliance. What then was the manner

of co-operation most likely to result in victory for that alliance

which lay dormant under the Triple Entente?

But first of all, to clear away one obscurity--_Invasion_ was not our

problem; _Defence_ was our problem; for the greater included the less.

The word 'defence' is apt to carry different meanings to different

minds. The best defence of England and British interests, at any given

time, may or may not consist in keeping our main army in the United

Kingdom and waiting to be attacked here. It all depends upon the

special circumstances {250} of each case. The final decision must be

governed by one consideration, and one only--how to strike the

speediest, heaviest, and most disabling blow at the aggressor. If by

keeping our army in England and endeavouring to lure the enemy into our

toils, that end is most likely to be accomplished, then it is obviously

best to keep our army here. If by sending it into the north of France

to combine with the French the supreme military object has a superior

chance of being achieved, then it is best to send it into the north of

France.

A defensive war cannot be defined and circumscribed as a war to drive

out invaders, or even to prevent the landing of invaders. The best way

to defend your castle may be to man the walls, to fall upon the enemy

at the ford, to harry his lands, or even to attack him in his castle.

There is no fixed rule. The circumstances in each case make the rule.

[Sidenote: CO-OPERATION WITH FRANCE]

A war is not less a defensive war if you strike at your enemy in his

own territory, or if you come to the aid of your ally, whose territory

has been invaded or is threatened. In the circumstances which

prevailed for a considerable number of years prior to the outbreak of

the present war, it gradually became more and more obvious, that our

soundest defence would be joint action with France upon her

north-eastern frontier. For there, beyond any doubt, would Germany's

supreme effort be made against the Triple Entente. If the attack

failed at that point, it would be the heaviest and most disabling blow

which our enemy could suffer. If, on the other hand, it succeeded,

France and England would have to continue the struggle on terms

immensely less favourable.

{251}

This opinion was not by any means unanimously or clearly held; but

during the summer of 1911 and subsequently, it was undoubtedly the

hypothesis upon which those members of our Government relied, who were

chiefly responsible for the conduct of foreign affairs. Unfortunately

Parliament and the country had never accepted either the policy or its

consequences; they had never been asked to accept either the one or the

other; nor had they been educated with a view to their acceptance.

At that time the error was exceedingly prevalent, that it is a more

comfortable business fighting in your own country than in somebody

else's. From this it followed that it would be folly to engage in what

were termed disapprovingly 'foreign adventures,' and that we should be

wise to await attack behind our own shores. Recent events have wrought

such a complete and rapid conversion from this heresy, that it is no

longer worth while wasting words in exposing it. It is necessary,

however, to recall how influential this view of the matter was, not

only up to the declaration of war, but even for some time afterwards.

As to the precise form of co-operation between the members of the

Triple Entente in case of war, there could be no great mystery. It was

obvious to any one who paid attention to what happened during the

summer and autumn of 1911, that in the event of Germany attacking

France over the Agadir dispute, we had let it be understood and

expected, that we should send our Expeditionary Force across the

Channel to co-operate with the French army on the north-eastern

frontier.

[1] It can hardly be overlooked, however, that this principle, rightly

or wrongly interpreted, had something to do with the Crimean War

(1854-56) and with the British attitude at the Congress of Berlin

(1878).

[2] Viscount Milner in the _United Service Magazine_, January 1912.

{252}

CHAPTER V

THE MILITARY SITUATION

(August 1911)

The full gravity of the Agadir incident, though apparent to other

nations, was never realised by the people of this country. The crisis

arose suddenly in July 1911. Six weeks later it had subsided; but it

was not until well on in the autumn that its meanings were grasped,

even by that comparatively small section of the public who interest

themselves in problems of defence and foreign affairs. From October

onwards, however, an increasing number began to awake to the fact, that

war had only been avoided by inches, and to consider seriously--many of

them for the first time in their lives--what would have happened if

England had become involved in a European conflict.

[Sidenote: THE EXPEDITIONARY FORCE]

From various official statements, and from discussions which from time

to time had taken place in Parliament, it was understood that our

'Expeditionary Force' consisted of six infantry divisions, a cavalry

division, and army troops;[1] also that the national resources

permitted of this force being kept up to full strength for a period of

at least six months, after making all reasonable deductions for the

wastage of {253} war. Was this enough? Enough for what? ... To uphold

British policy; to preserve Imperial security; to enable the Triple

Entente to maintain the balance of power in Europe. These were vague

phrases; what did they actually amount to? ... The adequacy or

inadequacy of such an army as this for doing what was required of

it--for securing speedy victory in event of war--or still better for

preserving peace by the menace which it opposed to German schemes of

aggression--can only be tested by considering the broad facts with

regard to numbers, efficiency, and readiness of all the armies which

would be engaged directly, or indirectly, in a European struggle.

War, however, had been avoided in 1911, and not a few people were

therefore convinced that the menace of the available British army,

together with the other consequences to be apprehended from the

participation of this country, had been sufficient to deter Germany

from pursuing her schemes of aggression, if indeed she had actually

harboured any notions of the kind. But others, not altogether

satisfied with this explanation and conclusion, were inclined to press

their enquiries somewhat further. Supposing war had actually been

declared, would the British force have been sufficient--acting in

conjunction with the French army--to repel a German invasion of France

and Belgium, to hurl back the aggressors and overwhelm them in defeat?

Would it have been sufficient to accomplish the more modest aim of

holding the enemy at his own frontiers, or even--supposing that by a

swift surprise he had been able to overrun Belgium--at any rate to keep

him out of France?

{254}

When people proceeded to seek for answers to these questions, as many

did during the year 1912, they speedily discovered that, in

considerations of this sort, the governing factor is numbers--the

numbers of the opposing forces available at the outbreak of war and in

the period immediately following. The tremendous power of national

spirit must needs be left out of such calculations as a thing

immeasurable, imponderable, and uncertain. It was also unsafe to

assume that the courage, intelligence, efficiency, armament, transport,

equipment, supplies, and leadership of the German and Austrian armies

would be in any degree inferior to those of the Triple Entente.

Certain things had to be allowed for in a rough and ready way;[2] but

the main enquiry was forced to concern itself with numerical strength.

There was not room for much disagreement upon the broad facts of the

military situation, among soldiers and civilians who, from 1911

onwards, gave themselves to the study of this subject at the available

sources of information; and their estimates have been confirmed, in the

main, by what has happened since war began. The Intelligence

departments of London, Paris, and Petrograd--with much ampler means of

knowledge at their disposal--can have arrived at no other conclusions.

What the English War Office knew, the Committee of Imperial Defence

likewise knew; and the leading members of the Cabinet, if not the whole

Government, must be presumed to have been equally well informed.

It was assumed in these calculations, that in case of tension between

the Triple Entente and the Triple {255} Alliance, the latter would not

be able--in the first instance at all events--to bring its full

strength into the struggle. For unless Germany and Austria managed

their diplomacy before the outbreak of hostilities with incomparable

skill, it seemed improbable that the Italian people would consent to

engage in a costly, and perhaps ruinous, war--a war against France,

with whom they had no quarrel; against England, towards whom they had

long cherished feelings of friendship; on behalf of the Habsburg

Empire, which they still regarded--and not altogether

unreasonably--with suspicion and enmity.

[Sidenote: NEUTRALITY OF ITALY]

But although the neutrality of Italy might be regarded as a likelihood

at the opening of the war, it could not be reckoned on with any

certainty as a permanent condition. For as no one can forecast the

course of a campaign, so no one can feel secure that the unexpected may

not happen at any moment. The consequences of a defeat in this quarter

or in that, may offer too great temptations to the cupidity of

onlookers; while diplomacy, though it may have bungled in the

beginning, is sure to have many opportunities of recovering its

influence as the situation develops. Consequently, unless and until

Italy actually joined in the struggle on the side of the Triple

Entente, a considerable section of the French army would, in common

prudence, have to be left on guard upon the Savoy frontier.

In a war brought on by the aggressive designs of Germany, the only

nations whose participation could be reckoned on with certainty--and

this only supposing that Britain stood firmly by the policy upon which

her Government had embarked--were Russia, {256} France, and ourselves

on the one side, Germany and Austria-Hungary on the other.

It would certainly be necessary for Germany, as well as Austria, to

provide troops for coast defences, and also for the frontiers of

neutral countries, which might have the temptation, in certain

circumstances, to deneutralise themselves at an inconvenient moment, if

they were left unwatched. On the north and west were Denmark, Holland,

and Belgium, each of which had a small field army, besides garrison and

fortress troops which might be turned to more active account upon an

emergency. On the south and east were Montenegro, Servia, and

Roumania, whose military resources were on a considerable scale, and

whose neutrality was not a thing altogether to be counted on, even

before the Balkan war[3] had lowered the prestige of Turkey. In

addition there was Italy, who although a pledged ally in a defensive

war was not likely, for that reason, to consider herself bound to

neutrality, benevolent or otherwise, if in her judgment, the particular

contingencies which called for her support had not arisen at the outset.

[Sidenote: SUPERIORITY OF GERMAN NUMBERS]

After taking such precautions as seemed prudent under these heads,

Germany would then be obliged to detach for service, in co-operation

with the Austrians in Poland, and along the whole eastern border, a

sufficient number of army corps to secure substantial superiority over

the maximum forces which Russia, hampered by an inadequate railway

system and various military considerations,[4] could {257} be expected

to bring into the field and maintain there during the first few months

of the war.

It was reckoned[5] after taking all these things into account, that

Germany would have available, for the invasion of France, an army

consisting of some ninety divisions--roughly, rather more than a

million and three-quarters of men--and that she could maintain this

force at its full strength--repairing the wastage of war out of her

ample reserves--for a period of at least six months. It was assumed

that the Kaiser, relying upon the much slower mobilisation of Russia,

would undoubtedly decide to use the whole of this huge force in the

west, in the hope that before pressure could begin to make itself felt

in the east, France would either have been crushed, as she was in 1870,

or so much mangled that it would be possible to send reinforcements of

an overwhelming character to make victory secure in Poland.

Against this German force of 1,800,000, France, according to the best

information available, could put into the field and maintain at full

strength for a similar period of six months about 1,300,000 men. But

this was the utmost that could be expected of the French, and the

initial discrepancy of 500,000 men was very serious. It precluded all

reasonable hope on their part of being able to take the offensive, to

which form of warfare the genius of the people was most adapted. It

would compel them to remain on the defensive, for which it was believed

at that {258} time--though wrongly, as events have proved--that they

were ill suited by temperament as well as tradition.

If England joined in the war by land as well as sea the numerical

deficiency would be reduced to 340,000 on the arrival of our

Expeditionary Force. In this connection, as well as for other reasons,

the attitude of Holland and Belgium, and that of Germany with respect

to these two countries, were clearly matters of high importance.

Holland had a field army of four divisions, and her interests could be

summed up in the words, 'preservation of independence.' She would

naturally wish to avoid being actively embroiled in the war on one side

or the other; and, fortunately for her, she had every reason to believe

that her neutrality would not be disturbed or questioned. Her

territories lay to one side of the probable campaign area, and

moreover, whatever might be the ulterior designs of Germany with regard

to western expansion, it was obvious that her immediate interests must

necessarily lie in Dutch neutrality, which would be infinitely more

useful to her than a Dutch alliance. For Holland holds the mouths of

the Scheldt and Rhine, and so long as she remained neutral, it was

anticipated that imports and exports would readily find their way into

and out of Germany. This advantage would cease were Britain to

establish a blockade of these inlets, as she would certainly do if they

belonged to a hostile Power.

[Sidenote: POSITION OF BELGIUM]

In certain respects Belgium was in the same case as Holland. She

likewise had a field army of four divisions, and her interests could be

summed up in the words, 'preservation of independence.' But {259} here

all resemblance between the two countries ended.

Belgium was not merely the southern portion (Holland being the

northern) of that Naboth's vineyard, the possession of which German

visionaries had proclaimed to be essential to Teutonic world-power.

Belgium was more even than this. If the permanent possession of

Belgian territory was a political object in the future, temporary

occupation was no less a military necessity of the present. For in

order that Germany might benefit in full measure by her numerical

superiority, Belgian roads and railways were required, along which to

transport her troops, and Belgian hills and plains on which to deploy

them. If Germany were confined to the use of her own frontiers she

would not only lose in swiftness of attack, but her legions would be

piled up, one behind another, like a crowd coming out of a theatre.

She needed space on which to spread out her superior numbers in order

that her superior numbers might make certain of victory.

There was an idea at this time (1911-12) that Germany would be

satisfied to keep to the south-east of the fortified line of the

Meuse--moving through Luxemburg and the mountains of the Ardennes--and

that if Belgium saw fit to yield, under protest, to _force majeure_,

the northern region, containing the great plain of Flanders and all

cities of importance, would be left inviolate. This theory was

probably erroneous, for the reason that--as the event has

shown--Germany required a greater space and more favourable ground,

than would have been provided under this arrangement, in order to bring

her great superiority to bear.

{260}

With the French on the other hand there was no similar advantage to be

gained by the violation of Belgian neutrality. From their point of

view the shorter the battle front could be kept the better. If Belgium

chose to range herself by the side of France as a willing ally it would

undoubtedly be a great gain; but if she chose to remain neutral the

French could have no object in invading or occupying her territories.

It was assumed, and no doubt rightly, that, like Holland, Belgium would

prefer to remain neutral--leaving the question of future absorption to

take care of itself--provided she could do this without enduring the

humiliation of allowing foreign armies to violate her soil. For she

knew that, in the event of a French victory, her independence would

remain assured; whereas, if the Germans were successful, she would have

avoided awakening their hostility and giving them an excuse for

annexation. But even if Belgium, under gross provocation, were forced

to take sides against Germany, the deficit in numbers on the side of

the Triple Entente would only be reduced by some eighty or a hundred

thousand men. The deficit would still stand, roughly, at a quarter of

a million men.

[Sidenote: INADEQUACY OF BRITISH ARMY]

In view of the foregoing considerations it was clearly absurd to think

that our own small force was at all adequate, in a military sense, to

deter Germany from engaging in a war of aggression. Had we been able,

during the years 1912 to 1914, to see into the minds of the German

General Staff we should probably have realised that this inadequacy was

even greater than it appeared. We should then have {261} known that

the numbers of the Kaiser's striking force had been carefully

understated; and that the amount of preparations in the way of material

had been hidden away with an equal industry. We should also have

learned, that the sending of our army abroad was viewed with scepticism

in German military circles, as an event hardly likely to occur. But

even if our Expeditionary Force did go, it was altogether inadequate to

redress the adverse balance; still more inadequate to bring an

immediate victory within the range of practical possibility. It was

inadequate to hold back the premeditated invasion, either at the German

frontier, or even at the French frontier. It was inadequate to make

Belgian resistance effective, even if that nation should determine to

throw in its lot with the Triple Entente.

As a matter of the very simplest arithmetic our land forces were

inadequate for any of these purposes. They were unequal to the task of

maintaining the balance of power by giving a numerical superiority to

the armies of the Triple Entente. Our armaments therefore did not

correspond with our policy. It was clear that they would not be able

to uphold that policy if it were put to the supreme test of war. It

was impossible to abandon our policy. It was not impossible, and it

was not even in 1912 too late, to have set about strengthening our

armaments. Nothing of the kind, however, was undertaken by the

Government, whose spokesmen, official and unofficial, employed

themselves more congenially in deriding and rebuking Lord Roberts for

calling attention to the danger.

Of course if it had been possible to place reliance upon the statement

of the English War Minister, {262} made little more than a year before

war broke out,[6] that every soldier under the voluntary system is

worth ten conscripts, we and our Allies would have been in a position

of complete security. In that case our force of 160,000 would have

been the equivalent of 1,600,000 Germans, and we should from the first

have been in a superiority of more than a million over our enemies.

Even if we could have credited the more modest assumption of the

Attorney-General--made nearly four months after war broke out--that one

volunteer was worth three 'pressed' men, the opposing forces would have

been somewhere about an equality.[7]

Unfortunately both these methods of ready-reckoning were at fault,

except for their immediate purpose of soothing, or deluding the

particular audiences to which they were addressed. The words were

meaningless and absurd in a military sense; though conceivably they

possessed some occult political virtue, and might help, for a time at

least, to avert the retribution which is due to unfaithful stewards.

Both these distinguished statesmen, as well as {263} many of their

colleagues and followers, were beset by the error of false opposites.

A soldier who has enlisted voluntarily, and another who is a conscript

or 'pressed' man, have equally to fight their country's enemies when

they are ordered to do so. In both cases the particular war may be

against their consciences and judgments; and their participation in it

may therefore be involuntary.

Of two men--equal in age, strength, training, and courage--one of whom

believes his cause to be just, while the other does not, there can be

no doubt that the former will fight better than the latter--even though

the latter was enlisted under the voluntary system while the former was

a conscript or 'pressed' man. In this sense the superiority of the

'voluntary' principle is incontestable. But is there any evidence to

show, that either the original soldiers, or the new levies, of the

German army are risking their lives in this war any less willingly than

our own countrymen, who went out with the Expeditionary Force, or those

others who have since responded to Lord Kitchener's appeal? Is there

any reason to suppose that they are fighting any less bravely and

intelligently?[8]

Another matter of importance in these calculations with regard to the

military strength of the Triple Entente and the Triple Alliance was the

time limit.

[Sidenote: THE THREE PERIODS OF WAR]

There are three periods in war. There is the _onset_ of war, where

swiftness of action is what tells most; there is the _grip_ of war,

where numbers of {264} trained men are what tell most; and there is the

_drag_ of war, when what tells most is the purse.

Speaking by the book, it is of course numbers which tell all the way

through. At the beginning--in the _onset_--the aim is to hurl superior

numbers at a vital point--taking the enemy by surprise, and thereby

disordering his whole plan of campaign--very much as you knock a limpet

off a rock, with a sharp unexpected blow.

If this effort fails to settle matters, then we are in the _grip_.

Here it is a case of sheer heavy slogging of all the available trained

troops. The weaker side is driven to the defensive. It is found

making use of every artificial and natural advantage to counteract the

superiority which threatens it, and which must speedily prevail, if

only it be superior enough.

Finally, after a longer or shorter period of indecisive deadlock, the

time comes when trained troops and material of war accumulated in

advance begin to run short--when new levies, raised since the war broke

out, begin to take the field, well or ill equipped, well or ill armed,

as the case may be. When this stage is reached we are in the _drag_ of

war; and the side which can best afford to feed, clothe, and arm its

fresh reinforcements stands at an enormous advantage.

In 1870 war was announced on July 15th, and formally declared on the

19th. Three weeks later, on August 6th, the important battles of

Woerth and Spicheren were won by the Germans. On September 2nd, the

issue of the war was decided, when the Emperor of the French, with his

main army, surrendered at Sedan. Metz fell in the last days of

October, and Paris on the first day of March in the {265} following

year. In that war the _onset_ settled everything. There was no real

_grip_ of the opposing forces. The German attack had been so swift,

vigorous, and successful that France was knocked out in the first round.

[Sidenote: RESULTS OF SUCCESS IN ONSET]

The speed with which great armies can be mobilised and hurled against

one another has not diminished in the forty odd years which have

elapsed since the _débâcle_. On the contrary, the art of war has been

largely concerned in the interval with the vital question, how to get

in the first deadly blow.

The military view was, that probably not earlier than the fifteenth

day--certainly not later than the twenty-first--a battle would take

place which must be of the highest importance, and which might quite

well be decisive. It might make ultimate German victory only a matter

of time; or it might only determine whether the ensuing campaign was to

be waged on French or German soil--whether there was to be a German

invasion of France or a Franco-British invasion of Germany.

Consequently, if our Expeditionary Force was to render assistance at

the critical time, it must reach its position on the frontier within a

fortnight of the outbreak of war.

As to the _drag_ of war, the Triple Entente had the advantage, if that

stage were ever reached. For the purses of England, France, and Russia

were much longer than those of Germany and Austria. It was important,

however, to remember that there would be no hope for us in the _drag_

of war, if Germany could deliver a heavy enough blow at the beginning,

as she did in 1870.

These were the considerations as to time, which presented themselves to

students of the military {266} situation during the breathing space

which followed upon the Agadir crisis. The substantial accuracy of

this forecast was confirmed by what happened during August and

September of last year. In 1914 war was declared by Germany on August

1st. For several days before she had been engaged actively in

mobilisation. Three weeks later three important battles--on the road

to Metz, at Charleroi, and at Mons[9]--were won by the Germans. If it

had not been for the unexpected obstacle of Liège the last two

engagements would in all probability have been fought at an even

earlier date, and in circumstances much more unfavourable to the

Franco-British forces. But in the early days of September, instead of

the crushing defeat of Sedan, there was the victory of the Marne, and

the Germans were forced to retreat to entrenched positions north of the

Aisne.[10]

The _onset_ period was ended; but the issue had not been settled as in

1870. France and England had not been knocked out in the first round.

To this extent the supreme German endeavour had miscarried.

Nevertheless a great advantage had been secured by our enemies,

inasmuch as it was now apparent that the ensuing campaign--the _grip_

of war--would be contested, not on German soil, but in France and

Belgium.

[Sidenote: LIMITATIONS OF SEA POWER]

The value of the assistance which the British Navy would be able to

render to the cause of the Triple Entente was a consideration of the

highest importance. But while the fleet, if the national confidence in

it were justified, would render invaluable assistance to military

operations, it was necessary {267} to bear in mind--what Englishmen in

recent times have been very apt to forget--that no success at sea,

whether it consisted in the wholesale destruction of hostile ships, or

in an absolute blockade of the enemy's coast, could by itself determine

the main issue of a European contest of this character. Disaster in a

land battle could not be compensated for, nor could the balance of

power be maintained, by any naval victory. War would not be brought to

an end favourable to the Triple Entente, even by a victory as complete

as that of Trafalgar. It is also well to remember that peace came, not

after Trafalgar, but after Waterloo, nearly ten years later.

The strange idea that the security of the British Empire can be

maintained by the Navy alone, seems to be derived by a false process of

reasoning, from the undeniable truth, that the supremacy of our Navy is

essential to our security. But though it is essential--and the first

essential--it is not the only essential of security.

An insular Power, largely dependent on sea-borne food supplies and raw

materials for its industries--a Power which governs an empire in the

East, which has dependencies scattered in every sea, which is

politically united with immense but sparsely peopled dominions in the

four quarters of the globe--must keep command of the sea. If that

supremacy were once lost the British Empire, as an empire, would come

to an end. Its early dissolution would be inevitable. Therefore it is

true enough to say that if the German Alliance--or any other

alliance--were to win a decisive naval victory against Britain, it

would end the war completely and effectively so far as we were

concerned.

{268}

But the converse is not the case, and for obvious reasons. In a

contest with a continental enemy who conquers on land, while we win

victory after victory at sea, the result will not be a settlement in

our favour, but a drawn issue. And the draw will be to his advantage,

not our own. For having overthrown the balance of power by reason of

his successful campaign and invasions, he will then be free to

concentrate his whole energies upon wresting away naval supremacy from

the British Empire. In time the Sea Power which is only a Sea Power

will be overborne with numbers, and finally worsted by the victorious

Land Power. For how is it possible to fight with one hand against an

enemy with two hands? The fleets of Europe which at last must be

combined against us, if we allow any rival to obtain a European

predominance, are too heavy odds. German preparations alone were

already causing us grave anxiety nearly three years before the Agadir

crisis occurred. How then could we hope to build against the whole of

Europe? Or even against half of Europe, if the other half remained

coldly neutral?

[1] In all about 160,000 men, of whom some 25,000 were non-combatants.

[2] Such, for instance, as the fact that the time-table of German

mobilisation appeared to be somewhat more rapid than that of the

French, and much more so than that of the Russians.

[3] The first Balkan war broke out in the autumn of 1912.

[4] Russia had anxieties of her own with regard to the intentions of

Roumania, of Turkey in Persia and the Caucasus, and of China and Japan

in the Far East.

[5] These calculations were worked out in various ways, but the net

results arrived at were always substantially the same. In view of the

fact that the main conclusions have been amply proved by the results of

the present war, it does not seem worth while to weary the reader with

more sums in arithmetic than are absolutely necessary.

[6] Colonel Seely at Heanor, April 26, 1913.

[7] Sir John Simon (Attorney-General and a Cabinet Minister), at

Ashton-under-Lyne, November 21, 1914.... This speech is instructive

reading. It is also comforting for the assurance it contains, that if

the speaker approved of our taking part in this war (as he vowed he

did) his audience might rest satisfied that it was indeed a righteous

war; seeing that war was a thing which, on principle, he (Sir John

Simon) very much reprehended. And yet we are not wholly convinced and

reassured. There is a touch of over-emphasis--as if perhaps, after

all, the orator needed the support of his own vehemence to keep him

reminded of the righteousness. The pacifist in war-paint is apt to

overact the unfamiliar part. One wonders from what sort of British

officer at the front the Attorney-General had derived the impression

that 'one' of our own voluntary soldiers--gallant fellows though they

are--is the equal of 'three' of the Germans who face him, or of the

Frenchmen who fight by his side.... This speech puts us not a little

in mind of _Evangelist's_ warning to _Christian_, with regard to _Mr.

Legality's_ fluent promises to relieve him of his burden--"There is

nothing in all this noise save a design to beguile thee of thy

salvation."

[8] Sir John Simon clinched his arithmetical calculation of 'three' to

'one,' by stating that 'the Kaiser already knew it'; and this

reassuring statement was received with 'laughter and cheers.' The

laughter we can understand.

[9] The battle in Northern Alsace was fought on August 21 and 22. A

French army was driven back at Charleroi on the 22nd, and the British

at Mons on the 23rd.

[10] September 6-12.

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CHAPTER VI

THE MILITARY SITUATION

(August 1914)

Such was the position of affairs at July 1911, as it appeared to the

eyes of people who--during the ensuing period--endeavoured to arrive at

an understanding of the problem without regard to the exigencies of

party politics. Between that date and July 1914, when war broke out,

various changes took place in the situation. The general effect of

these changes was adverse to Britain and her allies.

In 1911 the German estimates provided for considerable increases,

especially in artillery and machine-guns. The peace strength of the

Army was raised.

In the following year, 1912, further additions were made to the peace

strength, and two new army corps were formed out of existing units--one

for the Polish, the other for the French frontier. Artillery and

machine-guns were very greatly increased in the ordinary estimates of

that year, and again in those of 1913. In addition, Germany at the

same time added a squadron to her fleet in the North Sea, by arranging

to keep more ships permanently in commission.

{270}

[Sidenote: MILITARY INCREASES]

But early in 1913 it became known, that the German Government was about

to introduce an Army Bill, providing for immense and sensational

additions. The sum of £50,000,000 was to be raised by loan for initial

expenditure. The increased cost of upkeep on the proposed new

establishment would amount to £9,500,000 per annum. Sixty-three

thousand more recruits were to be taken each year. The total peace

strength of the Army was to be raised by approximately 200,000 men.

Nearly four millions sterling was to be spent on aircraft, and ten and

a half on fortifications; while the war-chest was to be raised from six

to eighteen millions. Twenty-seven thousand additional horses were to

be purchased.

These proposals were timed to take effect the same autumn; so that by

the following Midsummer (1914), the military strength of Germany would

have reaped the main benefit which was anticipated from the enormous

additions.

It was not in the power of France to increase the actual total of her

numbers, because for many years past she had already taken every man

who was physically fit for military service. About eighty per cent of

the young Frenchmen who came each year before the revision boards had

been enlisted; whereas in Germany--up to the passing of the new Army

Law--considerably less than fifty per cent had been required to serve.

The German Army as a consequence was composed of picked men, while the

French Army contained a considerable proportion who were inferior both

in character and physique.

But in the face of the new German menace France had to do the best she

could. She had to do it alone, for the reason that the British

Government {271} entertained conscientious and insuperable objections

to bearing its due share of the burden.

Already, prior to the sensational expansion of Germany in 1913, France

had endeavoured to counteract the current yearly increases in the

military estimates of her neighbour, by various reorganisations and

regroupings of active units, and by improvements calculated to improve

the efficiency of the reserves. But when information was

forthcoming[1] as to the nature and extent of the developments proposed

under the German Army Bill of 1913, it was at once realised that more

drastic measures were essential to national safety.

Before the German projects were officially announced, the French

Government took the bold step of asking the legislature to sanction a

lengthening of the period of active military service from two years to

three, and an extension of the age limit of the reserves from

forty-seven to forty-nine. Power was also taken to summon, in case of

emergency, the annual contingent of recruits a year before their due

time. Increases in artillery, engineers, railways, barrack

accommodation, and subsidiary services were asked for and obtained.

The cost of these, when the whole sum came to be calculated, was found

to amount to £32,000,000.

Apart, therefore, from material preparations of one kind and another,

Germany was taking steps to add 200,000 men to her striking force, and

the intentions of France were approximately the same. In the {272}

case of Germany, however, the increases of strength would be operative

by Midsummer 1914, while with France they would not take effect until

two years later.[2]

Germany, moreover, was arranging to take 63,000 more recruits annually.

France was unable to obtain any more recruits, as she already took all

that were fit to bear arms. The increase in her striking force was

made mainly at the expense of her reserves. Year by year, therefore,

the numerical inferiority of France must become more marked.

Russia meanwhile was proceeding with her programme of military

extension and reorganisation which had been decided on after the

Japanese war. A great part of her expenditure was being devoted to the

improvement of her exceedingly defective system of railways and

communications, and to the fortification of the Gulf of Finland.

Austria did not remain stationary in military preparations any more

than her neighbours. Her intake of recruits was 181,000 in 1912. It

was decided to raise it to 206,000 in 1913, and again to 216,000 in

1914.

In the British Army, during this critical period, there had of course

been no increases, but the reverse.

{273}

The Regular Forces, which had been, reduced in 1906 by nine

battalions,[3] were in 1914 some eight thousand men under their nominal

strength. The Territorials, which had never yet reached the figure

postulated by their originator, were at this date about 47,000 short.

The Army Reserve was doomed in the near future to an automatic

shrinkage on a considerable scale, owing to the reductions which had

been effected in the Regular Forces, from which the reservists were