Ernst Reventlow,
The Vampire of the Continent
Chapter VII
England Digests her Booty — The Continent Gradually Becomes Unruly
1815-1890
England did not wish to leave the Continent any time to organise resistance to her commercial policy. Once Napoleon had been rendered harmless — in fact from the very moment when the battle of Waterloo developed into a great Prussian victory — we find her alongside of France. England restored to France the latter’s King, who had resided on English soil; she concluded the long-foreseen agreement with Talleyrand; and thus, in conjunction with Russia, did she re-arrange the map of Europe. It was customary in Prussia in those days, and it is still customary to-day, to criticise the incapacity of the Prussian representatives at the Congress of Vienna, and to repeat the words of Blücher: “the pen has gone and lost everything which the sword had won.” In itself, the criticism is perfectly justified; but the responsibility for what took place at the Congress of Vienna cannot be ascribed solely to the Prussian diplomatists. The fact of the matter was that the Great Powers wished neither a strong Prussia nor a strong Germany to arise. The letter written, before the War of Liberation, by Baron Stein to the Earl of Munster (the British statesman), appears to us to-day almost touching in its simplicity: “My desire is to see Germany great and strong, so that she may regain her nationality and her independence, and maintain them in her position between France and Russia.” But that was just what no single European Power desired, least of all England. For the latter knew that a strong, united Germany would constitute an important factor in the world’s industry, and would no longer be at the mercy of English manufacturers and merchants. It must be noted, further, that the spectacle of another nation growing in strength and prosperity has always been extremely distasteful to the Englishman. At first the English diplomatists let the Sovereigns of Europe amuse themselves with discussions concerning Legitimacy; for in this way could the nations be deceived as to their real interests. “Legitimacy” proved itself to be something excellently adapted to the interests of France — and of France only; thanks to the wonderfully skilful use made of this new rallying-cry by Talleyrand, the land of Napoleon was able, despite its defeat, to take up a relatively strong position. England, whilst pretending to be wholly disinterested, kept Malta and Gibraltar; but she gave back a few colonies to France. All the more energetically did England insist upon the territories which border the North Sea and the Channel being distributed in the manner most agreeable to her. Prussia was compelled to hand over her ancient province East Frisia to Hanover, the latter being, we must remember, a sort of English fief on the Continent. Prussia was thus without a single port on the North Sea. England further succeeded in persuading the Congress of Vienna, through the agency of the Duke of Wellington, to unite Holland and Belgium — under the pretext that Belgium, left to herself, would be crushed by France. The British Prince Regent hoped in this way to bring both countries entirely under England’s influence. The fact that the Belgian provinces had formerly belonged to the German Empire was, of course, wholly ignored; and much less still did it occur to anyone to revise the Treaty of Westphalia. Under England’s influence — which remained, however, as unobtrusive as possible — the Congress succeeded in shutting Prussia off completely from the North Sea, albeit without Prussia Napoleon would never have been crushed. Prussia was placed, as a result of the decisions of the Congress, in so unfavorable a geographical position, that she was nearly rent asunder into two separate parts; the task of defending her frontiers in West and East was thus rendered as difficult as could be. Denmark kept Schleswig-Holstein, and basked once more in the sun of England’s favor; for she henceforth held Prussia in check, seeing that she commanded the entry to the straits. Each of the States forming the German Staatenbund was granted the widest possible autonomy, in the well-founded belief that this was the most efficacious way of preventing the formation of a United Germany.
For all these misfortunes, the Prussian diplomatists were less responsible than the European Powers under England’s leadership, all of which were interested in preventing the development of a strong Prussia and of a united Germany. The shutting off of Prussia from the North Sea was a far-sighted and highly important manoeuvre on the part of England. The unification of Holland and Belgium under England’s “guardianship” held out the prospect of still more important consequences. We have followed up the development of England’s policy towards both those countries ever since the Dutch war of independence against Spain; and we have noted England’s uninterrupted efforts to prevent them from getting on intimate terms with any of the seafaring Continental Powers, the reason being that the Dutch and Belgian coasts are washed by the North Sea and the Channel. In the Treaty of Vienna England tried to go another big step forward, and to convert the Independent United Netherlands into an outer fortification of the British Isles. It would be more correct to say that Belgium, and especially Antwerp, was to become a basis of operations on the Continental side of the Channel for a British invading force. Had this plan proved itself, in the course of time, susceptible of realisation, Great Britain would have had, not only as an insular but also as a continental Power, an incomparably strong position. Guardian of the United Netherlands, she would have been far less vulnerable than she was in the days of yore, when she conquered Northern France. For in the case of the Netherlands there would have been no question of conquest; the Netherlands would have become England’s vassal, whilst retaining their independence.
However friendly she might be with France, England took her precautions in the South of Europe. The Sardinian question was settled in accordance with English wishes, and the Republic of Genoa was united with the Kingdom. In this way did England succeed in erecting a barrier against France on the one hand, and against Austria on the other; a barrier was likewise erected at the same time between France and Austria. Sardinia was obliged to rely always on British help, and the port of Genoa constituted the link between the Kingdom and Great Britain. In addition to all this, England’s power in the Mediterranean was well assured by the possession of Malta.
Great Britain’s world-position was greater, stronger, and more influential, than ever, after the Napoleonic wars. Her warships ruled the seas, and no other nation could even think of challenging British maritime supremacy. The British fleet was regarded as not only invincible, but as irresistible. Europe had been persuaded that her “liberation” was due to that fleet. For the first time for many centuries, England had no “enemy” on the Continent, for the simple reason that she needed none. The weakened and exhausted Continent lay at the mercy of John Bull, and the latter did not hesitate to exploit it. Especially was this the case with the German States, which were separated from each other by a wall of prohibitive tariffs, but whose markets were unreservedly open to foreign countries. France was clever and experienced enough to continue protecting her industry even after the fall of Napoleon. In this way did the break-up of the Continental Blockade have a destructive effect on the industry of several German States, during many years; all the more so as the English Government and English merchants alike had recourse, with their usual absence of scruples, to corruption and other dishonorable means for crushing German industrial competition ab ovo. The superstitious veneration which was entertained in Germany up till a comparatively recent date for all “genuinely English” products, dates back, for the main part, to that time.
The era of great battles on the plains of Europe was over. But a time of political unrest in the interior of the various European States set in; this unrest reached its culminating point in the explosions of 1848. Such unrest was a source of particular satisfaction to England, for it weakened and disorganised all her Continental rivals.
Down to the time of the Crimean war (1855), the Eastern question remained veiled in considerable obscurity; England, Russia, Turkey, France, and Austria-Hungary played a curious and very complicated game of political and diplomatic chess. This game was still further complicated when Mehmed Ali appeared on the scene, and marched on Constantinople. It is impossible, within the limits of the present work, to dwell on those events. We must content ourselves with describing, in general terms, the part played by England. The latter did not wish to see any of the Continental Powers in possession of Constantinople; and she also wished to prevent by all means an alliance between the Porte and any of the Powers. It was from these two considerations that English policy derived its principle of the “maintenance and independence” of Turkey. That policy, on the other hand, aimed at drawing Turkey as much as possible into the meshes of Great Britain’s net; in this way Turkey could be conveniently played off against France or Russia, as the occasion required it. Being herself an insular Power, England needed the services of a Continental Power in all Eastern matters. According as time or circumstances dictated, Austria-Hungary or France was selected for this honor; but Russia was not disdained either if the occasion required it. During the period of Mehmed Ali’s insurrection, English policy had three distinct aims in view: firstly, to prevent Mehmed Ali from capturing Constantinople; secondly, to prevent the development — desired by France — of intimate relations between him and the French Government; thirdly, to prevent him concluding an alliance with the Sultan, and thus strengthening the Porte. Great Britain’s anxiety concerning France was not unfounded; for the French had turned their eyes towards Egypt. In all these lengthy quarrels, the decisive word was spoken by the all-powerful British navy. The old English principle, according to which every opportunity should be seized upon in order to destroy all foreign fleets — whether the latter were peaceful or hostile at the moment of destruction did not matter: this principle proved extremely valuable. Its utility (from the English point of view) had been manifested in 1807, at the moment of the theft of the Danish fleet. Thus did it come about that, at the instigation of Great Britain, the Turkish fleet was destroyed “by mistake” at Navarino. An allied Anglo-Franco-Russian fleet sailed in 1824 to Navarino, where the Turkish fleet lay. An agreement had been made whereby negotiations should take place with the Turks, and it had further been resolved by the allied commanders not to open fire unless the Turks did so. Suddenly a shot was fired, and it has never yet been ascertained on which side; but the English declared that it was the Turks who had fired it. The result was the destruction, or rather the massacre, of the wholly unprepared Turkish fleet. The English Admiral had already received his instructions from London, but in the British Parliament all this was, of course, denied. The English Prime Minister even gave utterance to the memorable words: “The destruction of the Turkish fleet was an untoward event.” But “unfortunately” could things not be changed! Mehmed Ali’s future fleet had been partly annihilated, partly captured by the English, whose ships, in turn, occupied with success the ports and harbors of Syria.
Both at that time and also in later years, the limits of sea power have been very clearly demonstrated in the Near East. England was in a position, thanks to her navy, first of all to protect and coddle the new-born Kingdom of Greece, and subsequently to humiliate and bully it. This changeable attitude was kept up until King Otho’s successor, who was related to the English royal family, ascended the Greek throne. It was, again, her navy which permitted England to assume the role of “guardian” of growing Italy; and this navy it was, also, which caused the cunning policy of Napoleon III in the Mediterranean to collapse. But the aspect of things changed, as soon as the center of gravity of the Eastern conflict’ was removed to the Continent. It then became necessary for England to buy a “continental sword”; with the Power employed as such, England co-operated cheerfully until there was no further need of the former’s services. The tool was then cast aside.
Russia was, during the first half of the nineteenth century, fully aware of this fact, and pursued her policy of expansion accordingly. Her object, as usual, was Constantinople and the Dardanelles. Her ambitions led to the Crimean War, in which France and Italy were the auxiliaries of Great Britain. The Crimean War was badly managed, and the English performances at sea were likewise lamentable; especially those of the Baltic squadron, to which was entrusted the task of attacking the Russian coasts and of destroying the Russian fleet. But the consequences of the Treaty of Paris proved that England alone had profited by the war. The antagonism between France and Russia — antagonism which had been increased by the conflict — was destined to cost France dear not long afterwards. On the other hand, England had obtained, in conjunction with France, the neutralisation of the Black Sea and the closure of the Dardanelles and Bosphorus. Nothing shows better who was the real winner in this war, than the fact that the French were particularly anxious to conclude peace rapidly; whereas England, by raising perpetually new questions during the negotiations in Paris, and by seeking up till the last moment to create complications, endeavored to prevent peace being concluded.
Prussia had taken no part in the Crimean War, despite the strongest English pressure, despite threats and insults. Her abstention was one of the first great political acts of Bismarck. The latter recognised that it would have been folly for Prussia to show hostility to Russia in those days.
The Prussian-German Customs’ Union was, from the beginning, a thorn in the side of the English. Its foundation had been combatted by all possible means, and the efforts directed towards the protection of German industry had been denounced as an “unfriendly act” against England. Nothing was left undone, either by the British Government or by its accredited and unaccredited agents, in order to fight and to intrigue against the proposed Union in every German State. There are certainly few things which can be more legitimately included in the category of a country’s “internal affairs,” than the settlement of their mutual economic interests by the German States. But England had, in the most cunning manner, arranged, at the Congress of Vienna, for Germany to become an object of economic exploitation, and had imagined that matters would always remain thus. Knowing its own unassailable position, the British Government overdid things. Especially did the elevated English duties on wood and corn, which were arbitrarily modified in London, place German production and shipping in an ever more untenable situation; on the other hand, British industry continued to throttle German production, and to deprive the latter of its rightful profits. When Lord Palmerston was at last ready to give way, and offered, amongst other things, a reduction of the English duties on wood, it was too late and there remained nothing for the noble lord to do but to submit and accept the fait accompli.
Another event had, during the thirties, spoilt Great Britain’s game: namely, the separation of Holland and Belgium, whose reunion England had been foremost in bringing about at Vienna. Belgium had separated herself from her Northern neighbor, for that which cannot be united cannot be held together. English policy recognised this fact, and quickly decided to “make as good a job of it” as possible. The European neutralisation of Belgium was the consequence. As the historian Louis Blanc wrote: “England kept the diplomatic scepter in her hand, and exploited the Belgian revolution to her own advantage.” Belgium’s neutrality was directed solely against France, because England was convinced that the French would seize the first opportunity of bringing Belgium under their influence. In view of the state of affairs existing at the present moment, it is interesting to observe that the Treaty of Neutrality was concluded exclusively on account of France, whose ambitions it was meant to restrain. England hoped, by inducing the European Powers to participate, under her own leadership, in the guarantee of Belgian neutrality, to reserve for herself the possibility of organising, if need be, another coalition against France. De facto the newly created Kingdom of Belgium was entirely under British influence; it became England’s advanced post on the Continent, the outer line of her fortifications. And no one in Europe could prevent this.
During that period France was the “enemy”; and a remarkable parallel can be traced between the events which then occurred, and those which have taken place within the last quarter of a century — events which we will consider later on. In the fifties Great Britain succeeded in utilising her “enemy” against Russia in the Crimean War; she induced France to sacrifice her troops and warships, and to weaken herself generally, for the sake of British interests. At the same time, both during that war and previously to it, Great Britain was everywhere busy working against France — and especially in Egypt. Shortly after the war she enticed France into the Mexican adventure, and then, as usual, retired from the scene herself, as soon as the stone had been set rolling. Great Britain’s object was to create difficulties between France and the United States, by bringing the former into conflict with the Monroe Doctrine; she further wished to weaken France in Mexico, and to discredit Napoleon in France. The plan succeeded brilliantly. Within recent times it was intended to use the German Empire against Russia in the same way as France was used sixty years ago.
Great Britain found it impossible, during the sixth decade of the last century, to stem the flowing tide of German unity. The reasons for this were, firstly, the superiority of Bismarck’s diplomacy and political genius; secondly, his fearless determination; and, thirdly, the fact that purely Continental interests were at stake. During that curious period of European political development, Bismarck was the only statesman whose will was strong and unbending, and who knew exactly what he wanted.
The far-sightedness of English statesmen had recognised, early already in the sixties, that the power of Napoleon was on the wane. They observed with satisfaction that the Emperor of the French was constantly obliged to seek the creation of new “stage effects,” in order to maintain his prestige, and to consolidate the throne for his successor. At the same time Napoleon’s policy never ceased to be a cause of uneasiness for England; and the Suez Canal enterprise roused John Bull to violent indignation. How could a Continental Power dare to construct a canal joining up two seas, and thereby render a great British ocean highway valueless? We know how Disraeli’s business talents subsequently succeeded in transforming the peril into a profit, after the canal had been built. The spendthrift Khedive, Ismael Pasha, was overburdened with debts; Disraeli purchased all his Suez Canal shares, obtained later on possession of others, and thus placed the canal under the virtual control of England. Ever since the great insurrection of the Seapoys in 1857, the British Government had worked uninterruptedly to bind India to the Empire, and to organise her defence. The Suez Canal was a first-class instrument for this purpose. The Anglo-French rivalry in Egypt continued, but the English influence there increased steadily. In the rest of the world, during the nineteenth century, England did and took what she wanted. If any territory, in any region whatsoever, appealed to the taste of some wandering English merchant or politician, he simply hoisted the British flag, and the matter was settled. The territory was henceforth British.
About the end of the sixties it became perfectly evident to English statesmen, that Germany, under Bismarck’s guidance, was advancing rapidly towards unification. At the eleventh hour British diplomacy tried hard to prevent this unification from taking place. In London the thread was spun of an elaborate intrigue, which aimed at persuading the North German Union and France to come to an understanding regarding a reduction of armaments. The proposal met with considerable approbation in France, whereupon the latter became suddenly England’s “friend.” Weakness, aimlessness, discord, were becoming ever more and more visible in France; and these sorts of things have always been calculated to earn England’s friendship. But the London Cabinet had no success in Berlin with its proposal. Bismarck politely declined, and did not budge an inch. The English took similar steps in South Germany, where they did not content themselves with proposing a reduction of armaments, but also argued most persuasively that the union of the Southern German States with the Northern ones would be a crime against humanity which Europe could not possibly tolerate. The Southern States, further, would be doomed to certain perdition, i.e. be crushed under the Prussian boot.
When the great war with France broke out, English public opinion was at first considerably affected by Bismarck’s revelations, to the effect that France had endeavored, before the war, to obtain his consent to the French annexation of Belgium. Soon afterwards English opinion became pronouncedly favorable to France, and remained so. Munitions were sold to the French, and everything else that the latter wanted; the bombardment of Paris was bitterly criticised; the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine called forth a storm of curses. Gladstone intended protesting against it. But all this anti-German feeling remained confined within very modest limits, for England had other and very grave anxieties. The Russian Government declared itself released from the obligations imposed by the Treaty of Paris, and it found herein the firm support of Bismarck. France was momentarily crushed, and Austria-Hungary was not capable of resisting Russia and Germany by herself. England thus found herself isolated, and was compelled to sacrifice an important article of the Treaty of Paris — namely, the neutralisation of the Black Sea. This was decided upon in a conference held in London. In 1871 England found herself powerless in regard to affairs on the Continent. There was “nothing to be done,” and with that practical sense which is so developed in the Englishman, the English Press did not shrink from an exhibition of grovelling hypocrisy. Towards the end of 1870 an essay appeared in the Times, of which the conclusion furnishes interesting reading to-day:
“I think that Bismarck will take as much of Alsace and Lorraine as he wishes, and that this is all the better for him, all the better for us, all the better for the whole world — except France, and in course of time better for her also. By means of his quiet and splendid measures, Herr von Bismarck intends realising one great object: the welfare of Germany and of the whole world. May the broad-minded, peaceful, intelligent, and earnest German nation then attain to unity, may Germany become the Queen of the Continent, instead of the light-hearted, ambitious, quarrelsome, and far too irritable France!”
But such sentiments as those expressed here, were not, in London, of long duration.
In the course of the following years, England did not succeed in carrying out her traditional policy of a coalition organised against the Continental Power which happened for the time being to be the strongest: namely, Germany. England’s antagonism to Russia increased continually. Austria-Hungary was absorbed by internal quarrels, and remained weak; France had to recover from the war, and found herself to be politically dependent on Berlin. British statesmanship deemed it, consequently, advisable to be on good terms with Bismarck, whose support England required for her policy in the Mediterranean. In the latter sea England had every interest in opposing French expansion. Italy was used for the purpose; and the center of gravity of the English fleet was likewise transferred to the Mediterranean. The French fleet had remained intact during the war, and constituted an important factor of the balance of power. France and England soon came into conflict: in Egypt, in the rest of North Africa, in the Far East. Italy varied her position during the seventies, she was not well led, she was unable to follow up an independent and consistent policy, and she lacked initiative. Not until 1881, when France snapped up Tunis under her very nose, did Italy join the Austro-German alliance. England herself drifted, precisely on account of her Mediterranean interests, towards the Triple Alliance; and her relations with the latter became more and more friendly at the beginning of the ninth decade.
During the seventies Anglo-Russian relations grew very strained, and a rupture between the two countries appeared imminent whilst the Russo-Turkish war was in progress. The British fleet was anchored before the Dardanelles. At Russia’s demand, the Congress of Berlin met under the presidency of Bismarck; the Preliminary Peace of San Stefano was revised very much to Russia’s disadvantage; and England emerged triumphant from the diplomatic struggle. Not only had she forced Russia to retreat, and strengthened the Balkan position of Austria-Hungary; but she had seized Cyprus and concluded a treaty with Turkey. It was at this time that British diplomacy, under Disraeli’s leadership, succeeded in sowing the first seeds of discord between Russia and Germany; those seeds were destined to bring forth fruit. That Russian distrust of Germany set in, which never disappeared again, but which, on the contrary, only grew stronger. Nevertheless did Bismarck succeed, in 1884, in concluding a Neutrality Agreement between Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Russia. In England, the successful policy of the German Chancellor was praised; but, behind the scenes, everything possible was done with a view to checkmating and nullifying it. The triple entente between Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Russia soon came to an end as a result of the tension between Austria-Hungary and Russia in the Balkans; in its stead Bismarck concluded the celebrated Reinsurance Treaty with Russia. This treaty was very distasteful to Great Britain, for it prevented the latter from playing off Germany against Russia. Russia’s policy of expansion in Asia was a source of growing anxiety to England, who was used, in such cases, to rely on the assistance of a Continental Power. Such assistance could not now be obtained on account of Bismarck’s alliances; on the other hand, France was also an antagonist of England’s, and sought to effect a rapprochement with Russia — albeit, until the end of the eighties, in vain.
England did not feel at all well in her “splendid isolation”; for the first time was she obliged to recognise the fact that, without a Continental “servant,” her influence in Europe was but small, as soon as a strong will manifested itself here. To add to this, the Germans initiated a colonial policy which sorely vexed Her Britannic Majesty’s Ministers. That policy, it is true, was a very modest one; but it made the English uneasy, just as the new German steamship lines did. But Bismarck pursued his aims unflinchingly, and informed the London Cabinet that Germany would be glad to march hand in hand with Great Britain in all matters of colonial policy and colonial conquests. If England did not desire this, then Germany would come to an understanding with France.
The greatest pain and annoyance that Bismarck ever caused our English friends was in 1879, when he proceeded to establish a protective tariff for German industry. The protection of European markets against English industry is, according to English conceptions, the most hostile and outrageous act which a nation can possibly commit against the Chosen People. If England had’ found herself at that time in a more advantageous political position and if Bismarck had not been there, it is probable that Germany’s conversion to Protectionism would have had much more important effects on Anglo-German relations than it did. We need only remember the Anglo-French wars about a hundred years before, the origin of which is to be traced chiefly to disputes arising from similar causes.
Chapter VIII
Anglo-German Friendship and Estrangement after Bismarck’s Departure
1890-1895
It is well known that the anxiety felt concerning alleged warlike intentions of Russia, and also the belief in such intentions, played a part in the events which led up to the fall of Prince Bismarck. It was greatly to England’s interest that this belief should prevail in the governing circles of the German Empire; for as soon as it existed, and became strong enough for political consequences to result from it, the end of the Reinsurance Treaty with Russia must necessarily be in sight. And this is what did in fact happen. When Caprivi took over the Chancellorship after Bismarck’s fall, he had nothing more urgent to do than to refuse Russia’s offer to renew the Reinsurance Treaty, with a haste which Bismarck qualified in the Hamburger Nachrichten as altogether excessive. No one could have been more delighted than Great Britain! The experienced statesmen on the banks of the Thames, who were so intimately acquainted with all the laws which govern the grouping of European Powers, knew immediately that the abandonment of the treaty in question — especially in the form adopted — must mean the end of the former confidential relations between Germany and Russia. Great Britain knew, as well as Bismarck did, that a partly written Agreement had already existed for some years between France and Russia. Who could tell whether the entente between Russia and Germany, on the one hand, and France and Russia, on the other, might not lead to a Franco-German-Russian Alliance? For Great Britain, no spectre more uncanny than that of a co-operation — to say nothing of a real union — between the leading Continental Powers could possibly be conjured up. As long as Bismarck was there, English statesmen had found no opportunity of driving a wedge in between Russia and Germany. But in 1890 they succeeded with ease in doing so. The natural consequence of all this was to hasten and to consolidate the intimacy between France and Russia. Henceforth neither the Court nor the Government in St. Petersburg offered the same determined resistance to the Pan-Slav agitation as they had formerly done. Bismarck had been able to say in days gone by that all Pan-Slav intrigues had but the weight of a feather by comparison with the authority with the Czar. All that was now at an end. By means of the Reinsurance Treaty Russia had insured herself against the attacks and the pressure of her worst enemy, which was Great Britain. Ever since the seventies, an Anglo-Russian war had been one of the probabilities of European politics; for the points at which the two nations came into hostile contact were constantly increasing in size and number, alike in the Balkans and in Asia. It was therefore of the greatest importance for Russia that she should have, in case of war, a friendly neutral Germany on her Western frontier. The entente with Germany gave Russia the further assurance that, owing to the Austro-German alliance, Austria-Hungary would not allow herself to be induced by Great Britain to take part in a war against the Empire of the Czars.
It will be seen therefore that, in the complicated situation created by the Reinsurance Treaty, Great Britain was at a distinct disadvantage. As long as the Treaty existed, Great Britain had not a single Continental Power at her disposal; and this appeared all the more dangerous to her on account of the growing colonial expansion of France, and in view of Russian expansion in the Near East and in Central Asia. England sought, under these circumstances, to effect a close rapprochement with Germany. The Morning Post, the organ of the English Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, wrote at the beginning of the reign of the Emperor William II: “Neither England nor Germany are thinking of a war; but it must appear every day more evident to both countries that, if war should indeed be forced upon them, they will have to stand or fall together. No paper alliance is necessary for this.” It was the time when the friendship of Germany was eagerly desired, and when the Reinsurance policy was at its last gasp. Great Britain’s friendship seemed at first tolerable enough; but the situation grew dangerous in the very moment when, after the non-renewal of the Reinsurance Treaty, the Franco-Russian alliance commenced to manifest pronounced anti-German proclivities.
Caprivi was deeply convinced of the necessity of an intimate friendship between Germany and England. He wished, consciously and intentionally, to place the German-Empire under British guardianship, in all matters of maritime, commercial, and colonial policy. After the wooing of Germany by . England had succeeded in its object of separating the former from Russia, England’s tone towards her newly-acquired “friend” suddenly changed. The aim had been realised, the possibility of a great Continental coalition had been suppressed, and no further wooing was necessary — seeing that Germany now appeared in a certain degree isolated. Already in 1891, a representative of the British Government took the opportunity of declaring that, in the event of a Franco-German war, England’s national interests would have first and foremost to be considered. Not without reason was public expression then given to such a self-evident truth; in spite of all “friendship,” in spite of “standing and falling together,” the British Government deemed it useful to drive home an important truth: namely, that if war were to break out between France and Germany, England would take sides either for or against the latter — according to the circumstances. Already in 1890 England had signed a Colonial Agreement with France; and since that date she had more than once given it to be understood that she was perfectly willing to develop more intimate relations with the Republic. To Turkey’s demand that Egypt should, at long last, be evacuated, Lord Salisbury replied with the delightful euphemism: “We wish first of all to complete our work there.” About the same time, the friendly relations of Germany and the Ottoman Empire commenced; and the initial steps towards building the future Bagdad railroad were taken.
During the years of unhealthy Anglo-German “friendship,” England considered Germany as a servant who owed her obedience. In 1890 the Zanzibar Agreement was signed, and in 1893 a second Agreement was concluded; both were drawn up entirely from the standpoint of English interests. When Germany shortly afterwards entered into a Colonial Agreement with France — in which, be it said, the former once more got the worst part of the bargain, — England resented this; her resentment increased when Germany and France both protested, a year later, against a convention concluded by England with the Congo State in violation of international treaties. About the same time the Prince of Wales undertook a journey to Russia; the British Government seized the opportunity of settling temporarily its quarrel with St. Petersburg concerning Central Asia; and the English press was able to talk ironically about Germany’s isolation.
In 1894 the German Government sent two warships to Delagoa Bay, as a demonstration against English intrigues which threatened the independence of the Boer Republics. At that time the Boer newspaper Volks Stem wrote: “Up till now the Germans have let us settle our disputes with England by ourselves; but at last it would seem that Berlin has recognised the erroneousness of this policy. In the name of the Boer people we tender our thanks to the German nation.” This was, in truth, an historical moment; for ever since then English statesmen turned their attention to two problems: firstly, the prevention of the development of closer relations between Germany and the South African Republics; secondly, the destruction of the independence of the latter. We must once more remind our readers of the fact that England knew perfectly well that Germany was no longer backed up by Russia; and that Germany was, consequently, isolated in all questions of world politics. The Triple Alliance played no part in these; just as little as Germany herself, did the Triple Alliance possess a naval force which England needed to pay even the slightest attention to. Therefore did the British Government draw the noose ever tighter round the neck of the South African Republics, which it was determined to destroy by hook or by crook. Cecil Rhodes began his activity, created new territories for England all around the Boer States, and thus isolated the latter. In England, the enmity against Germany had increased so rapidly, that already in the summer of 1895, when the German Emperor visited the Queen of England, the English Government press received him with marked hostility. The London Standard published a much-noticed series of articles which, under the pretext of welcoming the Emperor, criticised him with bitter irony.
Ever since the combined efforts of England and Austria-Hungary had checked Russia’s expansion in the Balkans, the Government of St. Petersburg had pursued systematically and energetically its “forward” policy in the Far East. England felt her own interests in this region to be more and more menaced; and already a quarter of a century ago her experienced statesmen had recognised Japan as the Power capable of rendering invaluable service in the struggle against Russia. At the beginning of the nineties, England and Japan concluded a treaty of commerce and friendship. During their war with China in 1894-95, the Japanese were financed by English bankers. This war had the result of separating Corea from China — Corea, which was the goal of Russian policy. China was also compelled to surrender the peninsula of Liaotung, with Port Arthur, to Japan. Here, again, England stood behind Japan, for the former knew that Russia had designs on Port Arthur. In view of the Japanese demands, Russia, Germany, and France decided to intervene together. The German view was that if Japan were to establish herself on the Asiatic Continent, this would mean her definite ascendancy over China; from an economic standpoint, Japan “would stand like a sentry at the entrance to the highways leading into China, and would command them.” In addition to this, Germany had concluded a secret convention with Russia, the result of which was later on the leasing of the territory of Kiaotchow.
Japan was forced to give way to the pressure of the three European Powers, and to surrender the peninsula of Liaotung. Russia, on the other hand, was conceded the right of constructing a branch of the Transsiberian railroad to Port Arthur; a few years later, the latter was given over to her on lease. Germany took Kiaotchow, and England Weihaiwei. At the time of the war between Japan and China, Germany was not yet regarded by England as an end, but only as a means: a means against Russia. England was unable to check Russia’s expansion in the Far East; for Russia was in the happy position of possessing an uninterrupted and direct line of communications by land with the Pacific Ocean. The sea power of Great Britain was impotent as regards the Transsiberian railroad. The still rudimentary sea power of Japan had shown itself to be as yet too weak to be used as a British battering-ram against Russian Imperialism in those regions. And it was natural and inevitable that France should be on the side of her Russian ally. There thus remained only the German Empire, as the one Power capable, in the eyes of England, of stemming Russia’s expansion in the Far East. But Germany adopted a precisely contrary attitude and went over to the other side, for the reasons above indicated. Therefore were the English filled with indignation against the German Emperor, on account of what they termed his “liking for political experiments.”
In South Africa, about the same time, the last act but one of the great drama took place. Dr. Jameson and his band of filibusters made their disgraceful raid on the Transvaal. The Boers captured them, and the German Emperor despatched his famous telegram to President Krüger. The English ought to have approved of this telegram, if the conscience of the Government and the nation had been, with regard to the Raid, as pure as was maintained. But such was not the case; and there ensued an appalling outburst of fury against the Germans in general, and the Emperor in particular.
The British Government proceeded immediately to get its fleet ready; a part of this was sent to Delagoa Bay, and the rest was held in readiness in the home waters, just as if a war with Germany were contemplated. We do not know the diplomatic communications which took place at the time between Berlin and London. The German Government declared semi-officially that it was not true that any apologies had been offered on its behalf in London. And both the Government and the press confirmed the absolute unity of Kaiser and people.
An English newspaper, on the occasion of this tension between the two countries, asked ironically how Germany represented to herself a war with Great Britain. It was evident that, unless Germany worked systematically in harmony with other Continental Powers, she could not possibly act, in any overseas question, in opposition to the British Government. If she did, her failure was a foregone conclusion; for there was no German navy. Joseph Chamberlain, who was then English Colonial Secretary, said at the time with characteristic frankness, it was the object of every British Government to maintain England’s position as predominant Power in South Africa; the aim of the Government was the union of all the South African States under the protection of the British flag. The English Colonial Secretary thus declared, in so many words, that England would not rest until the Boer Republics had been deprived of their independence by one means or another: the old traditional British policy of brigandage! The main cause of England’s greed was the existence of diamonds and gold in the territory of the South African Republics; then came subsequently the fear that the economic and colonial expansion of Germany might dry up the English waters in South Africa altogether. In conformity with English traditions, these real motives were concealed behind a cloak of pompous and hypocritical phrases about civilisation, culture, etc. After the Krüger telegram the British Government had, by means of its naval demonstrations, put (symbolically) to the German Government the question of power; and having done this, it considered ipso facto the South African policy of Germany as knocked on the head. Such was, indeed, the case. Bereft of a fleet, Germany could not pursue, with regard to England, any policy which raised the fatal question of power.
Chapter ix
“And if Thou wilt not be my Servant ...”
From 1895 till the Entente Cordiale
The prosperity of German industry, of German trade, of German shipping, and the development of German capital, began, about the middle of the nineties, to attract the attention of an ever growing number of persons in Great Britain. Such “attention” on the part of the English is, as we know, invariably tainted by animosity. From all oversea countries arrived reports from British consuls and commercial agents, telling of German competition in the foreign markets. Everywhere was the German merchant to be found, who was unusually active, who spoke all languages, and who endeavored most skilfully to find out the wants and wishes of the native population, to which wants the manufactured goods were subsequently adapted. The immense growth of German industry had been rendered possible by the Protectionist policy inaugurated by Bismarck in 1879. The protection of those national forces which demanded to be developed, against foreign competition — especially against British industry,— was an imperative necessity. Bismarck had not let himself be caught in the English net so carefully spread for Continental birds — i.e. by the “doctrine” of the blessing of free trade for German industry. As soon as it was protected, German industry revealed a strength hitherto unsuspected; it could now thrive; and the more it could thrive, the more could it expand; and thus was it ever more and more in a position to satisfy all requirements as to quality. After a very short time, the English jeers about German industrial products, which were scoffed at as being “cheap and nasty,” produced no effect. Then came England’s great and irremedial mistake. In order to protect English buyers against worthless German products, the British Government decided that all manufactured goods imported into Great Britain, Ireland, and the Colonies, should in future be marked: “Made in Germany.” Thus did England, the champion of the magnificent ideal of Free Trade, decide. As is well known, the plan failed, and the German products, thanks to their good quality and their cheapness, obtained instead an unlooked-for success; for the English buyer got into the habit of asking for German, instead of English, goods. This failure, with the involuntary comedy and the still more involuntary English irony attached to it, produced its repercussion in the whole world, and became an universal and well-deserved advertisement for German industry. The culminating point of the German triumph was reached, when the German liner Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse entered the port of Southampton bearing the inscription “Made in Germany” in large letters.
The English were not yet uneasy. The tremendous start which it had, enabled British industry to dominate its rival in all markets. The immense difference between the means of production and distribution, and especially between the capital, at the disposal of either country, was well known. This fact alone was sufficient to prevent any uneasiness cropping up. Lack of German capital, and an extreme and lasting tension of German credit, on the one hand; immense English capital on the other: such was the position of affairs towards the close of the last century.
But England is in the habit of carefully observing even the first rudimentary beginnings of everything calculated to damage the monopoly, which Providence has granted her in the markets of this world. In 1896 the former Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery, declared in a public meeting that he attributed the disturbance of the friendly relations between England and Germany not only to the Transvaal question, but above all to the fact that Germany was beginning to catch up England in the economic race. He himself was quite surprised by the technical and commercial progress achieved by the Germans; German competition in these spheres was a danger of the future. Germany possessed the most complete system of technical education, and was therefore the most dangerous rival of England; in fact, she even menaced British trade in India and Egypt. The same politician said later: “We are threatened by a terrible adversary, who wears us out as surely as the sea wears out the unprotected parts of a coast. I refer to Germany.”
Lord Rosebery was quite right. What he termed a disturbance of the friendly relations between Germany and England — namely, the outburst of mob fury in the latter country after the German Emperor’s telegram to President Krüger — was due only in part to the South African complications. In fact, these certainly furnished the lesser motive, for Great Britain, being all-powerful at sea, had nothing to fear in the future from Germany in South Africa. The South African question was settled. But German commercial competition, and the development of German industry, were quite different matters. They could be suppressed neither by a quod non of the British Government, nor by a clatter of swords. The principal motive of English unrest resided in the feeling, partly conscious and partly unconscious, that German trade had risen from humble origins to an astonishing height of prosperity by its own unaided efforts, and in spite of the most difficult conditions. In the course of our pilgrimage through the centuries which tell of the development of British piracy, we have seen that it is by no means the superior capacity or the originality of the English people which have permitted them to obtain possession of the markets of the world. An exceptionally favorable geographical position; the ability to inflict in the most cunning and unscrupulous manner damage on other nations, which were either exploited if possible by their best forces being drawn by England into her own service, or which, if this was impossible, were paralysed in such a way that they destroyed themselves: such have been the factors of the development of British wealth and power. The incurable madness of the Continental Powers, which perpetually tore each other to pieces and exhausted their resources for the greater glory of the British grocer, did the rest. But never did the superior productivity, the superior intelligence, and the honest work, of the English, have a share in the building up of England’s monopoly. Germany before the Thirty Years’ War stood, in respect of such qualities, on a far higher level than England, as did also Italy at the time of the Renaissance, Holland in the seventeenth century, and France in the days of Colbert and of Napoleon I. And now, after the long interval that had elapsed since the War of Liberation, during which the monopoly of industry and trade had appeared to the English as if it were given them by Providence — after all these years, there suddenly arose the new German Empire. The latter was, it is true, as yet without many resources; but it proved itself a hard-working and talented competitor. Was it not inevitable that the noble British blood should boil? How could the German nation, which up till then had been poor and despised, dare to compete with British industry, not only in the German but even in the English market — nay, even in the world market?
Statistics showed that, during the period 1873-1896, the number of German vessels had increased sixfold, and their tonnage more than tenfold. The German passenger service was unrivalled in the world; the North Sea fishing trade was formerly exclusively in English hands, and the German fishing fleet in those waters had now been increased twelvefold since 1873. The oversea shipping trade of Germany had increased by more than 100%, whereas that of England had only increased by 35% — a clear proof that German trade was proceeding with giant strides to liberate itself from the English intermediary. Precisely this last-mentioned phenomenon caused unusual pain and annoyance to the “world’s carrier,” for it was equivalent to a severe blow in the face. The German consulates in oversea countries increased in number every year. Every year also did the total trade of Germany grow, and of this trade much more than half was done with oversea countries. The amount of money invested in the latter, and the number of shipping lines and of shipbuilding yards, likewise augmented every year. Everywhere the English saw growing strength, and the spirit of enterprise, and perseverance, and skill — everywhere an indomitable resolution to produce only the best of everything. In 1896 the German flag was, for the first time, to be seen in Hamburg in superior numbers to the English. It was, on the one hand, a legitimate triumph for the Germans, and a sure sign that matters were progressing steadily; on the other hand, it brought home to them once more all the misery of the years gone by. Not until twenty-six years after the foundation of the “new” German Empire had the numerical superiority of British ships in the greatest German harbor been done away with! Up till then trade with German ports had been carried on principally under the British flag, and via British ports. Such was the fruit yielded by the “great harvest” reaped by England at the time of the war with Napoleon, when England, albeit at peace with the State of Hamburg, blockaded the mouth of the Elbe, and seized Hamburgian ships wherever she could find them. Hamburg now took peaceful revenge, and thereby prodigiously excited the wrath of the benefactor of mankind at the other side of the North Sea.
In order that this period of Anglo-German relations be rightly understood, it is impossible to insist too often on one cardinal fact: namely, the absence of a German navy right up till the commencement of the twentieth century. A few warships, it is true, existed, but these were small, and the majority of them were badly built. England rightly had no respect for such a fleet. As for Germany’s world policy, and the tendencies revealed by the latter, the British Government judged it solely in the light of a factor of possible alliances and groupings of Powers. In other words, British statesmen were first and foremost concerned about the question: with which Powers will Germany seek to effect a rapprochement, in order to obtain support for the aims pursued by her world policy? This was very natural, seeing that every co-operation of Germany with another Power appeared to the Government of His Britannic Majesty as a menace and a danger. This Government believed also to have found here the key to a further conundrum — namely, how may German trade competition be guided into paths where its danger to England shall be reduced to a minimum? The best solution to both questions appeared to the London Cabinet to lie in a rapprochement between England and Germany. It was known in London that Germany would create no difficulties in South Africa; and this sufficed for the moment. When Russia took Port Arthur, and Germany acquired Kiaotchow, whilst England followed suit with Weihaiwei, the British Government considered it to be of great importance that Berlin should be informed of the former’s firm intention “not to call in question any of Germany’s rights or interests in Shantung.” The British Government was aware that Port Arthur had been for some years the goal of Russian policy in the Far East, and that the leasing of Kiaotchow to Germany could not possibly constitute a danger to English interests for a very long time to come. Or did other intentions prevail already in those days? We do not know. In any case must Port Arthur in Russian hands have appeared to British statesmen as distinctly dangerous; for it was the symbol of Russian expansion in the Far East, and of an Imperialist policy which could only be pursued at the expense of the Chinese Empire. The acquisition of Weihaiwei was in the nature of a counter-move directed against Russia, and not against Germany. Mr. Arthur Balfour, the future Prime Minister, in the course of a speech made at the time, gave expression to the anxiety felt by the Government concerning the perilous surprises which the development of events might entail for the future of China. The Russian danger in the Far East had become immense, for Russia’s expansion threatened the freedom of the Chinese market, which Great Britain had long since attributed to herself, and which she had sought to prepare by all the means in her power. A steady increase of the Russian fleet proceeded simultaneously with the Russian advance on the Continent. Every new warship was despatched to the Far East; Port Arthur became a naval port and a fortress, whereas Dalny, in the neighborhood, was made into a trading port.
Thus it was the Russian danger which induced the British Government to seek a rapprochement with Germany. We may resume England’s policy at that time in a sentence: if possible, let us make use of Germany against Russia. The former, and Austria-Hungary with her, can by means of pressure — and, if necessary, by war — in Europe, loosen Russia’s hold on the Chinese Empire, and indirectly check the Russian advance in the Far East. This calculation was, in itself a perfectly sound one. There is no doubt that an European war, which would have relieved England of her anxieties in the Far East, would at that time have been very welcome to the British Government.
Prince Bülow kept his hands free, and the British wooing did not have the success which the late Joseph Chamberlain wished for; but the London Cabinet continued to hope that it would eventually attain its end. In the last years of the old century events succeeded each other rapidly. The Hispano-Amer-ican war broke out, and Spain lost the greater part of her remaining colonial possessions. All the other Powers remained neutral. England, however, despite her friendship with Germany in the Far East, seized the opportunity to endeavor to sow in the United States the seeds of distrust against Germany. British diplomacy observed with irritation and anxiety the victorious campaign of the Americans, but did not venture to give public expression to its feelings. It contented itself with an effort to prevent the armed intervention of the United States in Cuba, by means of a joint action of the neutral Powers. Germany refused her co-operation; and British diplomacy at once proceeded to put matters in such a light that it should appear as if Germany, and not England, had proposed taking this step. The British cable companies did everything they could — and that was a great deal — to prevent all possibility of a German-American rapprochement ever being realised.
The same year 1898 witnessed an event which was destined to become a most important turning-point in British modern history: namely, the so-called Fashoda affair. As is well known, this “incident” was created by a French expedition under the leadership of Colonel (then Captain) Marchand, which, setting out from the French Congo, had reached Fashoda, in the territory of the Upper Nile. The English considered any French advance towards the last-named region as constituting a grave danger for their own position in Egypt. Lord Kitchener, who had just won the battle of Omdurman, protested against the hoisting of the French flag at Fashoda. Captain Marchand declined to give way, and notified his Government of the incident. A great tension of Franco-British relations immediately followed, and England’s language became very menacing. The Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in London, Mr. (now Lord) Curzon, had declared, a year before, at the time when Captain Marchand had just begun his expedition, that if the latter should enter a territory “in which our rights have already long been recognised, this would not only be an unexpected act, but the French Government must well know that it would be an unfriendly one, and considered as such in England.” Such language was already clear enough; but much stronger language was resorted to when the event actually took place. The Naval Reserves were called in, the fleet was held ready, and the English Ministers, as is customary in all such cases, made speeches of a most menacing character. Their argument was the following: England claims to rule over all territories having formerly belonged to Egypt; she does so “on behalf of Egypt,” which country has, at the cost of the heaviest sacrifices, been saved from anarchy and ruin. The claim, as will be seen, was a very elastic one. It amounted to this: wherever, within the limits of the African Continent, England chose to declare that a territory had once belonged to Egypt, such a territory was transferred by Divine right to the Chosen People.
France was not prepared to defy Great Britain. In the spring of 1899 the latter concluded an Agreement with the French Government, by means of which she obtained all she wanted: namely, the recognition of her uncontested right to rule in all territories which the Egypt of yore had ever claimed, or ever could claim. England did not, of course, demand this in her own name, but in that of the “independent Egyptian State.” Had France not given way, it would seem that England intended taking Tunis, with the naval port (then in construction) of Bizerta.
“The disgrace of Fashoda” was, from that time on, a popular phrase in France, and the Germans believed that they were now but a short distance removed from a Franco-German understanding. It was, however, a great mistake. The leading men in France were convinced that the Fashoda “incident” had quite another meaning. The French colonial plans, which had found their expression in the Marchand expedition, had definitely failed. Other colonial problems in Africa were still open. The French fleet would, in the future, be just as little in a position successfully to defy the British fleet as it had been in 1898. No effective help on sea could be expected from Russia, for the center of gravity of Russia’s policy and maritime power lay in the Far East. It is true that France, could maintain a respectable fleet in the Mediterranean, and thus keep up a certain equilibrium there. Her fleet was sufficient to prevent France being eliminated from any settlement of Mediterranean questions. But the French statesmen were of opinion that France was henceforth too weak to continue the old historical struggle with England on the seas and beyond them. Subsequent reflection confirmed their first impression. Since July, 1898, M. Delcassé was Minister for Foreign Affairs, and M. Paul Cambon was French Ambassador in London, where he is still to-day. M. Cambon, a leading political personality and a diplomatist of the first order, saw that the moment had come for paving the way to an understanding with England. It is reported that M. Delcassé, on taking office, likewise said that he hoped not to leave the Ministry on the Quai d’Orsay until he had laid the foundations of a lasting entente with the latter Power. The French press could wax indignant about the disgrace of Fashoda, it could demand peremptorily an increase of the navy, and threaten the hereditary foe, — this war of words left Great Britain wholly indifferent. The statesmen in London knew full well that a great turning-point in history had been reached; and they were content to wait quietly until the fruit should ripen.
The Fashoda incident had, therefore, an entirely different meaning to the one which is still generally to-day attributed to it. It was not in spite of Fashoda that six years later the Franco-English entente was concluded, which has since developed into an alliance — but as a result of Fashoda! Without Fashoda there would have been no Entente Cordiale, no alliance! The old historical world-struggle between France and England reached its definite end with the Fashoda incident. Even after 1870 it was still conceivable that France might endeavor, in conjunction with Continental Powers, to resume the ancient struggle — especially in view of the burning questions arising out of the conflicting colonial aspirations of the two countries in Africa. The Fashoda incident put an end to all this. The efforts made during the preceding twenty years by statesmen on both sides of the water, in view of arriving at an understanding between Paris and London, had been temporarily frustrated by Bismarck. But now, after the tree had been vigorously shaken at Fashoda, the fruit fell spontaneously. We may recall, in this connection, the words spoken by the French Ambassador in London in the days of the Krüger telegram: “France has but one enemy,” etc.
After Fashoda the political situation in the Mediterranean was suddenly changed. It was no accident that France and Italy should, about the same time, have effected a rapprochement after long years of estrangement, and that they should have signed a colonial agreement. Crispi had inaugurated Italy’s ambitious colonial policy, and had induced the Italian nation to make immense efforts in order to become a great Mediterranean Power. The defeat at Adua signified the end of this era; instead of the ambitious foreign policy which aimed at placing Italy ahead of France in the Mediterranean, a new period now set in, characterised by timidity and excessive economy in matters of national defence. The party which denounced Italy’s adhesion to the Triple Alliance as the cause of ruinously expensive armaments constantly increased. We now know that English influence stood behind it, that English counsel and English intrigue prepared and organised the unfortunate Abyssinian adventure, partly in order to give British troops a pretext for intervening themselves, partly because England had no use for a powerful Italy in the Mediterranean — much less so, in fact, since the weakness of France had become palpable. Formerly, when France was stronger, England had done all she could to embitter the quarrel between the two Latin nations; but now it was the reverse. Thus it was that England, in 1898, bestowed her blessing on the Franco-Italian rapprochement, by the mouth of Admiral Rawson, Commander-in-Chief of the British squadron, which was then visiting Genoa. England likewise succeeded, on the same occasion, in loosening the ropes that bound Italy to the Triple Alliance; Italy veered round in the direction of France and England, attracted as she was by the advantages offered her in North Africa by these two Powers. England was, from now on, no longer the Power whose fleet served to back up the Triple Alliance (which possessed no fleet) in the Mediterranean, where England had guaranteed the maintenance of the status quo against France. This policy of England’s was no longer necessary, for France no longer dreamt of “kicking against the English pricks.” Not the least of the causes which, in former days, induced Italy to join the Triple Alliance, was the former’s rivalry with France.
The reasons for the destruction of the Boer Republics were typically English. These Republics grew and prospered, and became stronger in every way; it was only natural that they should aspire to complete independence in their relations with other Powers, and that they should not consider themselves as bound by a forged treaty limiting their rights in this respect, and which had been forced on them by England some fifteen years previously. The British Government, and especially Chamberlain, understood that a normal and natural evolution was here in progress, and that it could not be stopped. The only means of doing so remained the destruction of the independence of the Boer Republics.
During the Boer War the anti-foreign movement known as the Boxer War, broke out in China. All the European Powers sent troops to the Far East, and a numerous international fleet was anchored in Chinese waters. The leitmotiv of British policy at that moment was furnished by the necessity of checking Russian expansion in the Chinese Empire and in Corea. Already during the Boxer troubles, England and Japan worked together on the most intimate terms; on the other hand, British diplomacy endeavored to play off Germany against Russia in China, and was very dissatisfied when it observed that the Germans intended acting in the Far East on their own account — chiefly in view of obtaining new openings for German trade. England was likewise displeased with the relatively strong fleet which Germany had despatched to the Far East; she had, on the other hand, the consolation of seeing the German fleet in home waters reduced to two battleships.
The only reasonable policy which Germany could possibly pursue during the Boer War, was one of absolute neutrality. When Russia attempted to take advantage of the situation, and to induce Germany to take part in a movement against England, Prince Bülow put an end to all further negotiations by proposing, as a condition of the intervention of the European Powers, that they should agree to recognise the validity of the territorial status quo on the Continent. In this way, Prance would have had to accept the Treaty of Frankfort, and the idea was consequently abandoned. Russia was the only Power which could, at that time, by an advance towards the Indian frontier, have fought with success against Great Britain.
Thus England remained undisturbed, and with her freedom of action unimpaired. Alone the business instinct of the United States skilfully took advantage of the situation, and a new treaty concerning the future Panama Canal was concluded. The sovereignty of the United States over the Canal was thereby assured, and the latter withdrawn for ever from British control.
During the Boer War, Lord Salisbury and Joseph Chamberlain continued their efforts to bring about an understanding with Germany. It was proposed to form, in conjunction with the United States, a German-Anglo-Saxon Alliance. Chamberlain declared that no farsighted British statesman could wish to see England permanently isolated from the Continent. Her quarrels with Germany had been mere trifles, and could not obscure the fact that, German and English interests were, to a large extent, parallel; and that the most natural alliance for England was an alliance with the German Empire. Some weeks later Prince Bülow replied that the German Government likewise desired to come to an understanding, but that this would only be possible on the basis of absolute equality and mutual respect. Germany consequently must desire all the more sincerely that no incidents should crop up, susceptible of creating difficulties between the two countries. Such an “incident” was the confiscation, by the English, of German mail steamers during the South African war.
Finally an agreement was made, on the basis of the status quo and of the open door in China. We would recall that Japan was also a party to this agreement. The London Cabinet thought that it had thereby caught the German Empire in the meshes of the English net, seeing that Germany had bound herself over to protest in company with Great Britain and Japan against the Russian advance in the Far East — for that advance menaced the status quo and the open door alike. There followed the negotiations with Russia regarding the evacuation of Manchuria by the Russian troops. (The latter had occupied Manchuria during the Boxer War.) Russia promised the evacuation, but did not fulfil her promise. But Prince Bülow declared in the Reichstag that the Anglo-German-Japanese Agreement did not concern Manchuria. The fate of the latter province was wholly immaterial to Germany.
The attitude of Germany in the Manchurian question was the cause of the definite abandonment, by Great Britain, of her attempts at wooing. It is probable that the idea of a rapprochement with France originated in London simultaneously with the end of the Anglo-German flirt. The ground, as we have seen, was already prepared. France was only waiting, she had submitted herself to the inevitable, and her clever diplomatists were skilfully and noiselessly working with a view to removing the last obstacles.
The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was but the logical consequence of the situation which had been created in the Far East by the war between China and Japan, by the intervention of the European Continental Powers in 1895, and by the expansion of Russia. There can be no doubt that the British statesmen had long been at work. They had for a long time intended drawing Japan, as the strongest adversary of Russia, over to their side. On the other hand, the hope of avenging “the disgrace of Shimonoseki” had operated powerfully among the Japanese nation. England, with the one definite aim of checking Russian expansion before her, had assisted the Japanese Government in every way — with money, credit, political and naval advice. With the help of the Chinese war indemnity and of British loans, Japan, between 1895 and 1904, built up a small but excellent fleet, and organized her army according to the German pattern — whereby she was actively seconded by German officers, who were engaged as instructors. These officers laid, during years of peace, the basis of the Japanese victories, which were due first and foremost to German military science. The German army manoeuvres also played their part, for they were frequently visited by studious and energetic Japanese officers. Thus did German diplomacy, on the one hand, and the German army, on the other, take diametrically opposite sides: namely, for Russia, and against her. Truly a deplorable spectacle!
The way in which the Russo-Japanese War was prepared, begun, and carried out, furnishes another typical example of British methods. England did not need to have recourse, in the case of Japan, to arguments — for Japan was already convinced. England only needed to pour oil on the fire, to add to her ally’s strength where this was necessary, to take the political and diplomatic reins into her own hands — and then, when war had broken out, to point with unmistakable clearness to her all-powerful fleet which ruled the seas. Under these circumstances, who else could venture to say a word? Japan fought England’s battles on sea and on land. The Russian fleet was annihilated at Tsushima and in the harbor of Port Arthur; the Russian armies were driven with terrible loss from Liaotung and Manchuria. Port Arthur fell into the hands of the Japanese. The satisfaction in London would certainly have been greater if the Japanese triumph had not been so overwhelming. England wished the Russian fleet to be entirely destroyed, but she would also liked to have seen three-quarters of the Japanese fleet at the bottom of the sea. Instead of that Japan became, thanks to her navy, the predominant Power in the Far East. This solution was not, from the English point of view, an ideal one; but it was not an unprofitable, one either — or at any rate any disadvantages it might have, did not seem likely to manifest themselves for a very long time to come. It was England who, cleverly screened behind the United States, prevented Japan from obtaining a war indemnity in Portsmouth. In this way did the two Anglo-Saxon nations inflict far greater damage on Japan, than was ever inflicted by the intervention of the Continental Powers in 1895. Japan’s army and navy have thereby suffered considerably in their development up till the present day; the Japanese finances have ever since been in a critical condition; and the population as a whole has been reduced to a state of poverty resulting from overtaxation, such as no country has ever witnessed after a victorious war. About the same time, England caused the Alliance between herself and her impoverished friend to be consolidated, and the duties resulting from it for either Power to be extended. On the whole, the danger in the Far East had been suppressed; Japan had been bound to Great Britain and rendered economically dependent on the latter. Japan’s resources were exhausted, and she had been placed in the impossibility of recovering her strength for many years to come. England sought, at the same time, to widen as much as possible the gulf already then perceptible, between America and Japan. It was in England’s interest that the gulf in question should not be bridged over — but, on the other hand, the quarrel must not be allowed to lead to war. The London Cabinet has had, nevertheless, considerable difficulty at times in preventing war from breaking out.
Russia, on the other hand, had been immensely weakened by her defeats and by the revolution; and for a long time she could undertake nothing. But England was desirous of obtaining still more. Even as Fashoda had proved the beginning of the Anglo-French entente; so also were Tsushima and Mukden destined to form the bridge between St. Petersburg and London.