A little older and greyer, a shade more thoughtful and careworn than when I last saw him some few years ago, upon the occasion of some political gathering, when he delivered a speech of much brilliance, and clear, well-defined, consecutive thought, he yet impressed me as he impressed me then, with a sense of wonderful versatility, and a plenitude of knowledge of the subject upon which I had come to talk.
‘I feel some little hesitation in replying to your request,’ he began, ‘but since the Editor is evidently anxious that I should do so, I will endeavour to give you my views as briefly and clearly as I can. Mind you, I don’t think it is either an easy or a gracious task to criticise the work of the brilliant staff of experts who have fought this Great War. Any strictures therefore that I may have to offer will deal entirely with generalities, or with political and military considerations; the details of the War seem to me to have been admirably carried out; and nothing else could have been expected, considering who are the men who have had part in it. Then, too, I feel that the Editor was justified, when he wanted to make a war, in making a war which lent itself to literary and dramatic treatment, instead of the war which might be more natural but less picturesque. One of my criticisms also goes to the root of the whole matter, and must necessarily seem a little by the way. It is that we are assured that a Great War ‘will probably occur in the immediate future.’ I do not think so, and have indeed, during all the alarms of the last seventeen years, been an obstinate believer in the probabilities of peace.’
‘In which the writers clearly differ from you, Sir Charles,’ I replied; ‘I was much struck, however, by the clever manner in which they caused the war to break out in a small, insignificant country like Bulgaria, and then spread like a prairie fire, till the whole world was in a blaze. Do you consider that was a good and probable beginning?’
‘Well,’ replied Sir Charles, as he leaned forward and began to rapidly sketch out a little map of the Continent, to which he made constant subsequent reference, ‘it was, perhaps, more ingenious than either scientific or probable. For my own part, I do not believe that the next great war, when it does come, will arise from events in the Balkan Peninsula. Of course, Russia can cause a war whenever she wishes to do so, but I don’t think she does so wish. The writers of this brochure state that they have striven to make the imaginary conflict spring from the most likely source of conflicts. They therefore chose Bulgaria, and I think with a good deal of reason from their point of view. But, for all that, Russia has pursued an adventurous and indefensible policy with regard to these States, and however irritating her conduct may have been, she means peace at heart. Therefore it is, I think, they are wrong.’
‘It is quite fair then, Sir Charles, that I should ask you where you would have applied the match, had you been writing this war?’
‘Quite fair,’ he replied, with a very genial laugh, as he placed his finger on the Franco-German frontier. ‘The most probable cause of a war, which I nevertheless think wholly improbable, will be a frontier incident between Germany and France, exaggerated by the newspapers, and subject to the difficulty, as between two great Powers of equal strength and spirit, of making excuses. It is easy for excuses to be made by one side when there is obvious disparity of strength, and when that side, whether the stronger or the weaker, does not desire to face the risks of war; but, as I have pointed out in an article on the French grand manœuvres of last year, neither side could now make such efforts for peace as were made by the Emperor William I. a few years ago, when frontier incidents of the kind to which I allude occurred.’
‘Very good, Sir Charles, your war would obviously have very materially differed from ours; but now, given the causes of ours, what do you think of the strategy supposed?’
‘There again,’ was the reply of this keen politician, and endeavour as best I might I could not puzzle him for a single moment, ‘there again I have a criticism to offer. I cannot see why Russia should attempt a descent near Varna, when a descent near Constantinople would so much better suit her purpose. The garrison of Constantinople is not, numerically speaking, a strong one. It is very deficient in effective field artillery, and its infantry, numbering perhaps 18,000 men, could not make much of a defence, unsupported as they are by a real system of land fortification, against a Russian rush from the Black Sea coast by land, accompanied by another landing on the Asiatic side, and a vigorous naval attack against the Therapia batteries.’
‘Talking of Turkey, Sir Charles, should we be certain of her as an ally if France joined Russia, and we supported Germany?’
‘By no means,’ was his emphatic reply; ‘although I grant you that actual temporary circumstances in the Mediterranean would have a great bearing on their attitude, the Turks would look to the possibilities of the moment. If we could terrorise them—yes; if not——’ and here my companion smilingly shook his head.