The Vampire of the Continent

by Graf E. Reventlow

The crisis of 1911 showed Great Britain to be the uncontested leader of the anti-German coalition. The London Cabinet would not have been sorry to see war break out at that time, although Russia was not yet ready. The British press, and also the French press which had been corrupted by English gold, loudly demanded war. England finally obtained without war what she wanted: namely, closer co-operation and increased deadly hatred against Germany among the Powers of the Triple Entente.

The military conventions between Great Britain, France, and Belgium, were revised and completed. Amongst other things, the Moroccan crisis had shown that the plan of a British landing en masse on the Continent needed to be recast. British experts were of opinion that, during the crisis of 1911, the mobilisation of the fleet destined to transport the expeditionary corps did not work as smoothly as it ought to have done in the case of a war with Germany. The defects were carefully and rapidly repaired, and the machine was kept ready to be put into motion instantly. A definite agreement had been concluded with France, according to which the French fleet was entirely to be concentrated in the Mediterranean, whereas England guaranteed the safety of the Northern coasts of France. Conversations were begun with Russia regarding an active co-operation in the Mediterranean, the Black Sea, and the Baltic. In short, it was clear to the governing circles of England that the next crisis should bring war, or at any rate the complete humiliation of Germany. The three Powers proceeded to develop their armaments on land and sea with the utmost energy.

The controversy concerning the mouth of the Scheldt was characteristic of the situation existing during the years which immediately preceded the war. Holland wished to modernise the forts at Flushing, in order to be able, if need be, to close the mouth of the Scheldt. She had a perfect right to do so; but, at England’s instigation, a tremendous hullabaloo was raised in Belgium, France and Russia. The real reason of all the noise was not—as was pretended—that the Scheldt should be kept open for the British fleet, in order that the latter might protect Belgium’s neutrality; but it is to be found in the fact that England had already destined Antwerp to be the basis of her operations against Germany in the coming war. The large increase of the Belgian army had been ordered by England, because she desired to see her ally Belgium stronger than had been the case up till then. During many years, the Belgian nation was systematically fanaticised against Germany; and England further induced the Belgian Government to organise a spying service in Western Germany. At the same time, special efforts were again made by the London Cabinet to win over Holland and Denmark for the war of destruction. But such attempts succeeded just as little now as they had formerly done.

The Germans perceived nothing at all of these things. They even believed that the era of intimate and durable friendship with England had dawned. The British Government was very satisfied with this state of public opinion. The War Minister, Haldane, who enjoyed the reputation of being a staunch friend of Germany because he had translated Schopenhauer and took pleasure in making academical speeches about our country, was sent to Berlin early in 1912. The real object of his journey was to endeavor to prevent a further development of the German navy. Haldane himself, backed up by English financiers and the “pro-German” section of the English press, never ceased insisting on the fact that the German navy was the one obstacle in the way of a really intimate friendship between the two countries. The result was, that the German naval programme in 1912 was badly mutilated. On the other hand, England declined the German proposal to conclude a Neutrality Agreement. Haldane returned to London. He could well be pleased with the success of his mission, albeit he had not obtained all he desired. The London Cabinet now knew how strongly the Germans wished to remain on friendly terms with England; above all Haldane brought his colleagues the invaluable information that the British statesmen were, in Germany, considered to be honest. Such wholly unmerited confidence rendered, of course, the work of British diplomacy all the easier. A perfidious diplomacy cannot possibly wish for anything better than to be regarded by its adversary as honest. Every swindler will agree with this.

The Italo-Turkish war broke out; it was followed by the Balkan wars. During the war between Italy and Turkey, England worked hard to detach the former from the Triple Alliance. She did not succeed, because the Rome Cabinet understood that, under the circumstances then existing, it was better for Italy to remain as she was. The same year witnessed the realisation of the important politico-strategical decision of the French Government to concentrate its entire fleet in the Mediterranean. The pretext alleged for the measure was furnished by controversies which arose between France and Italy during the Tripolitan war. France feared—so it was said—the possibility of a closer co-operation of the Powers of the Triple Alliance in the Mediterranean. In this way, popular opinion in Italy was excited against France—but against France only; and the British Government was well pleased at this. The London Cabinet remained, as ever, the good friend and guardian of Italy. But the initial calculation of English and French diplomatists: namely, to separate either Italy or Turkey from Germany, had failed. The campaign in Tripoli, and the seizure of Libya by the Italians, had, on the contrary, drawn Italy nearer to her allies. It is evident that Germany tried as hard as possible to strengthen these tendencies of the Italian Government, and that she made every effort to restore peace as quickly as possible. England, France, and Russia labored just as actively—perhaps even more so—to delay the conclusion of peace.

Under the auspices of Russia, the first Balkan War broke out. The Balkan States had concluded an alliance; they had decided, in agreement with the Russian Government, what was to be taken from Turkey, and how the new territories were to be divided among themselves. Turkey had overestimated her strength; and this mistake had been shared by Germany. After a series of rapid victories, the Balkan States succeeded in conquering nearly the whole of European Turkey. The Bulgarian triumph was even too great for Russia; and energetic pressure from St. Petersburg was necessary in order to stop the Bulgarian advance on Constantinople. This permitted the Turks to gain time, and Bulgaria’s strength subsequently proved insufficient. In order to re-settle matters in the Balkan Peninsula, the so-called Ambassadors’ Conference met in London, together with the plenipotentiaries of Turkey and the Balkan States. The British Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, himself presided over the Conference.

The question has been raised in Germany as to whether England knew beforehand that the first Balkan War was going to break out, and as to whether she herself instigated it. It is incontestable that both the British Government and the Balkan Committee knew of the existence of the Balkan Alliance, and were acquainted with the latter’s aims. It is, on the other hand, not to be supposed that the British Government directly organised or instigated the war, for the simple reason that it did not need a war. The vehicle put in motion by the British Government was already rolling along the track, without it being necessary to push it; and it is not the custom of British statesmen to give unnecessary publicity to their intentions—on the contrary. The anti-Turkish agitation in the Balkans was always favored by England. As soon as it had been seen that the Young Turks, in spite of their original preference for France and England, had come to recognise that the real interests of Turkey demanded the maintenance of a close and cordial friendship with Germany, the admiration felt in London in 1909 for the new “liberators” came to a speedy end; henceforth no effort was spared by British emissaries to keep up a permanent war in Albania, permanent Armenian unrest in Asia Minor, and a chronic state of revolt in South Arabia: all this, of course, in the name of Christianity, civilisation, and liberty. In 1912 and 1913 Great Britain judged the Balkan problem more or less in the following terms: the destruction of the Turkish Empire in Europe could not be disadvantageous to British interests as such, but it would under all circumstances render the situation of Austria-Hungary and Germany in the Balkans uncommonly difficult, and would necessarily weaken both Powers immensely in the future war. In the eyes of the outside observer British diplomacy had the merit of working for the maintenance of the status quo, and in view of the limitation of the war; and this “virtue in the sight of the world” was undoubtedly an advantage. The British Government worked, of course, hand-in-hand with Germany, Austria-Hungary, Russia, and France; it had the greatest admiration for the Balkan States, but also deep sympathy for Turkey, who had, unfortunately, not listened in time to England’s disinterested counsels. With laudable energy Sir Edward Grey supported Servia’s claims, which were incompatible with Austrian interests; and most intelligently did he encourage Austria-Hungary’s policy of temporisation. Devoted, as usual, to the cause of peace, Sir Edward assisted the Powers to create an independent Albania, and then did everything he could to make the Albanian question an apple of discord between Austria and Italy. All these events are too near our own times, and are too directly bound up with the present, for us to be able to submit them here to detailed critical analysis. It is certain that England knew from the beginning that she must inevitably be the winner in the Balkans, in whatever manner the affairs of the Peninsula should develop, and whatever should be the solution of each problem in itself. The secret of England’s strength has always resided therein, that she has never allowed her attention to be distracted by secondary problems; she has always had one great main object in view, and she seeks unceasingly to approach ever nearer the realisation of this fundamental aim. She cares not which way is taken, nor what means are adopted, neither does she mind if delays should occur. With the one goal always before her eyes, she works alternately with this and with that Power, appearing first of all as representative of one group of Powers, subsequently as the representative of another, later on co-operating with both, and finally equally far from both; to-day threatening, to-morrow coaxing, the day after to-morrow apparently disinterested and detached, always indifferent to questions of form, and caring only for the substance. Thus it happens that England’s political and diplomatic apparatus possesses wonderful freedom of action; that the direction in which the ship of state is steered can be easily changed to suit the winds and the tides; and that the loss of strength due to inner friction is reduced to a minimum.

During the Balkan Wars British policy manifested on more than one occasion friendly and loving anxiety about German interests in the Mediterranean. The London Cabinet took pleasure in tapping the “German cousin” on the shoulder, and pointing towards Syria and Asia Minor—with such insistence that anxiety arose in Paris and St. Petersburg about the “German aspirations.” British diplomatists whispered in the ears of the Turks that Germany desired a partition of the Ottoman Empire, and had already prepared for herself a sphere of interest in Asia Minor. In Berlin, on the other hand, the British representatives showed anxious faces; they declared that, as a consequence of the victories of the Balkan States, the position obtained by Russia was becoming a danger for England. It was sought, in this way, to persuade the German statesmen that England needed the help of Germany, and that the former was quite willing secretly to undermine the Triple Entente, and to effect a rapprochement with the German Empire. In reality all these manipulations were the result of careful calculations, and were intended to cast a veil over the real aim of British policy in the Near East. This aim was to accentuate and increase the divergencies between Russia and Germany in that part of the world. Whereas it was endeavored to make German statesmen believe that England was very anxious, and needed Germany’s assistance—in other words, that she was being driven by necessity over to Germany’s side, the whole thing was nothing but an English trick. As a matter of fact, England had no special reasons for anxiety; for she knew that the further expansion of Russia in the Balkans must call in question the existence of Austria-Hungary; in this way would the great conflict have broken out, or else the Central Powers would have given way. England did not desire a rapprochement with Germany, she only pretended to desire it. The main thing was, that Germany should believe this desire to be sincere. The Cabinets in Paris and St. Petersburg were perfectly at ease about the matter, and knew full well that, should any serious difficulty arise, Great Britain would at once support them actively. Such was the case at the end of 1913, when the question of the German Military Mission to Constantinople arose. When England, this time, took up in conjunction with Russia and France so resolutely hostile an attitude towards Germany, the value of the famous Anglo-German “intimacy” became evident for all those who, having eyes, wished to see things as they were.

He who, in those days, was so foolish as to lack confidence, was always reminded of the Anglo-German negotiations concerning Central Africa and the railroads of Asia Minor. Early in 1914 came the further negotiations concerning petroleum springs in Persia. To-day it is not yet possible to discuss these matters freely and openly, but this much can be said: the Anglo-German negotiations in question were, partly at any rate, means whereby the attention of the Germans might be withdrawn from the systematic and carefully planned development of the preparations for war in England, France, and Russia. In the middle of the Anglo-German honeymoon in 1913 and 1914, British and Russian officers were busy drawing up the Naval Convention which provided for attacking operations to be undertaken in common by the British and Russian fleets in the Baltic, and, in conjunction with the Russian army, against the German coast. The English press spoke a lot about the new friendship with Germany; only when the navies of the two countries came under discussion, did it betray anxiety. Mr. Churchill spoke of the German fleet as a “luxury,” and made one tactless attempt after another to bring about a naval “understanding.” The object of such an “understanding” was, as usual, to reduce the strength of the German navy in such a way that the British fleet should run no risk in attacking it. Several people in Germany actively seconded these laudable efforts, in order to consolidate the friendship between the two Powers.

About the same time, certain London newspapers, which are known to entertain friendly relations with the British Foreign Office, declared that real peace could not exist in Europe until the “burning question of Alsace-Lorraine had been settled.” Once more was the value of the much-vaunted Anglo-German friendship clear to those whose eyes proved capable of seeing things as they were. On either side of the water, enthusiastic speeches celebrated that friendship, while all the time the noise could be heard of the colossal armaments in France and Russia and the language of the French and Russian press was not less menacing than the armaments themselves. In Germany, all this was declared to be mere boasting. As long as we had England as a friend, everything else was immaterial. The news concerning the immense development of the Russian armaments, and especially the minute care with which they were methodically planned and carried out, was treated in Germany with scepticism. It never occurred to the majority of the Germans that, if England had entertained feelings of sincere friendship for Germany, she would never have tolerated a dangerous growth of French and Russian armaments. The few who insisted on this fact—who maintained that not only did England tolerate the constant increase of dangerous tension, but that she was the leader and organiser of an European coalition against the German Empire: these were treated as “loud-mouthed jingoes” incapable of appreciating the value of Anglo-German friendship.