At the mediation of the French Government negotiations between the British and German Governments were resumed in the first days of November. But the Germans still adhered inflexibly to their demand for the status quo. Germany must retain Holland and Denmark, which were to become States of the German Empire, under their existing dynasties. Turkey must retain Egypt, whither the Turkish troops had penetrated during the chaos caused by the invasion of England. The Dutch East Indies must become a part of the German Empire.
Certain foreign Powers, however, which had been friendly to England now avowed their readiness to support her in resisting these outrageous demands. But the outcry for peace in England was growing continually, and the British Ministry was helpless before it. The Germans must have got wind of the foreign support which was secretly being given to this country, since at the eleventh hour they waived their demands as regards Egypt and the Dutch East Indies.
The lot of these two territories was to be settled by an International Congress. But they finally secured the consent of the British Government to the conclusion of a peace on the basis that each Power should retain what it possessed at the opening of October. Thus Germany was to be confirmed in her possession of Holland and Denmark, while England gained nothing by the peace. The British surrender on this all-important head tied the hands of the foreign Powers which were prepared to resist vehemently such an aggrandisement of Germany.
As for the Congress to deal with Egypt and the East Indies, this does not fall within the sphere of our history.
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Peace was finally signed on 13th January 1911. The British Empire emerged from the conflict outwardly intact, but internally so weakened that only the most resolute reforms accomplished by the ablest and boldest statesmen could have restored it to its old position.
Germany, on the other hand, emerged with an additional 21,000 miles of European territory, with an extended seaboard on the North Sea, fronting the United Kingdom at Rotterdam and the Texel, and, it was calculated, with a slight pecuniary advantage. Practically the entire cost of the war had been borne by England.
Looking back upon this sad page of history—sad for Englishmen—some future Thucydides will pronounce that the decree of Providence was not undeserved. The British nation had been warned against the danger; it disregarded the warning. In the two great struggles of the early twentieth century, in South Africa and the Far East, it had before its eyes examples of the peril which comes from unpreparedness and from haphazard government. It shut its eyes to the lessons. Its soldiers had called upon it in vain to submit to the discipline of military service; it rebelled against the sacrifice which the Swiss, the Swede, the German, the Frenchman, and the Japanese made not unwillingly for his country.
In the teeth of all entreaties it reduced in 1906 the outlay upon its army and its fleet, to expend the money thus saved upon its own comfort. The battalions, batteries, and battleships sacrificed might well have averted invasion, indeed, have prevented war. But to gain a few millions, risks were incurred which ended ultimately in the loss of hundreds of millions of money and thousands of lives, and in starvation for myriads of men, women, and children.
As is always the case, the poor suffered most. The Socialists, who had declaimed against armaments, were faithless friends of those whom they professed to champion. Their dream of a golden age proved utterly delusive. But the true authors of England’s misfortunes escaped blame for the moment, and the Army and Navy were made the scapegoats of the great catastrophe.