ORDEAL BY BATTLE
BY
FREDERICK SCOTT OLIVER
With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: SIMPLE said, I see no danger; SLOTH said, Yet a little more sleep; and PRESUMPTION said, Every Vat must stand upon his own bottom. And so they lay down to sleep again, and CHRISTIAN went on his way.
The Pilgrim's Progress.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1915
COPYRIGHT
TO
THE MEMORY OF
HUGH DAWNAY
COMMANDING THE 2ND LIFE GUARDS
WHO WAS KILLED AT ZWARTELEEN ON THE 6TH OF NOVEMBER 1914
AND OF
JOHN GOUGH, V.C.
CHIEF OF THE STAFF OF THE FIRST ARMY
WHO FELL NEAR ESTAIRES ON THE 20TH OF FEBRUARY 1915
THEY WERE BROTHER-OFFICERS OF THE RIFLE BRIGADE
AND THOSE WHO KNEW THEM BOTH
WILL ALWAYS THINK OF THEM TOGETHER
Works by the Same Author
ALEXANDER HAMILTON (An Essay on American Union).
LIBRARY EDITION. Messrs. CONSTABLE & Co., London.
LIBRARY EDITION. Messrs. G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York.
POPULAR EDITION. Messrs. THOS. NELSON & SONS.
FEDERALISM AND HOME RULE (Letters of Pacificus).
THE ALTERNATIVES TO CIVIL WAR.
WHAT FEDERALISM IS NOT.
MR. JOHN MURRAY, LONDON.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
LONDON * BOMBAY * CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
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TORONTO
PREFACE
It is hardly necessary to plead, in extenuation of those many faults which any impartial reader will discover in the following pages, the impossibility of discussing events which are unfolding themselves around us, in the same detached spirit as if we were dealing with past history. The greater part of this volume has been written in haste, and no one is more alive to its shortcomings than the author himself.
Faults of style are a small matter, and will be easily forgiven. It has not been the aim to produce a work of literary merit, but solely to present a certain view of public affairs. It is to be hoped that actual errors of fact are rare. Inconsistencies however—or apparent inconsistencies—cannot be altogether avoided, even by careful revision. But the greatest difficulty of all is to keep a true sense of proportion.
In Part I.—The Causes of War—an attempt has been made to state, very briefly, why it has hitherto proved impossible to eliminate the appeal to arms from human affairs; to set out the main incidents which occurred at the opening of the present European struggle; to explain the immediate occasions, as well as the more permanent and deep-seated causes, of this conflict; to consider some of the most glaring miscalculations which have arisen out of misunderstanding between nations.
In Part II.—The Spirit of German Policy—an attempt has been made to understand the ambitions of our chief antagonist, and to trace the manner in which these ambitions have been fostered, forced, and corrupted by a priesthood of learned men. The relations which exist between this Pedantocracy and the Bureaucracy, the Army, the Rulers, and the People of Germany have been examined. It would appear that under an academic stimulus, healthy national ambitions have become morbid, have resulted in the discovery of imaginary grievances, and have led the Governing Classes of Germany to adopt a new code of morals which, if universally adhered to, would make an end of human society. On the other hand, it would also appear that the German People have accepted the policy of their rulers, without in any way accepting, or even understanding, the morality upon which this policy is founded. It is also important for us to realise the nature of the judgment—not altogether unjustified—which our enemies have passed upon the British character, and upon our policy and institutions.
In Part III.—The Spirit of British Policy—our own political course since the beginning of the century has been considered—the difficulties arising out of the competition for priority between aims which are not in themselves antagonistic: between Social Reform, Constitutional Reform, and Imperial Defence—the confusion which has resulted from the inadequacy of one small parliament, elected upon a large variety of cross issues, for dealing with these diverse needs—the lowering of the tone of public life, the depreciation in the character of public men, which have come about owing to these two causes, and also to a third—the steadily increasing tyranny and corruption of the party machines.
The aim of British Foreign Policy has been simply—Security. Yet we have failed to achieve Security, owing to our blindness, indolence, and lack of leadership. We have refused to realise that we were not living in the Golden Age; that Policy at the last resort depends on Armaments; that Armaments, to be effective for their purpose, must correspond with Policy. Political leaders of all parties up to the outbreak of the present war ignored these essentials; or if they were aware of them, in the recesses of their own consciousness, they failed to trust the People with a full knowledge of the dangers which threatened their Security, and of the means by which alone these dangers could be withstood.
The titles of Parts II. and III. are similar—The Spirit of German Policy and The Spirit of British Policy; but although the titles are similar the treatment is not the same. Confession of a certain failure in proportion must be made frankly. The two pieces do not balance. German Policy is viewed from without, at a remote distance, and by an enemy. It is easier in this case to present a picture which is clear, than one which is true. British Policy, on the of other hand, is viewed from within. If likewise it is tinged with prejudice, the prejudice is of a different character. Both Parts, I fear, diverge to a greater or less extent from the main purpose of the book. Mere excision is easy; but compression is a difficult and lengthy process, and I have not been able to carry it so far as I could have wished.
In Part IV.—Democracy and National Service—an attempt has been made to deal with a problem which faces us at the moment. Democracy is not unlike other human institutions: it will not stand merely by its own virtue. If it lacks the loyalty, courage, and strength to defend itself when attacked, it must perish as certainly as if it possessed no virtue whatsoever. Manhood suffrage implies manhood service. Without the acceptance of this principle Democracy is merely an imposture.
I prefer 'National Service' to 'Conscription,' not because I shrink from the word 'Conscription,' but because 'National Service' has a wider sweep. The greater includes the less. It is not only military duties which the State is entitled to command its citizens to perform unquestioningly in times of danger; but also civil duties. It is not only men between the ages of twenty and thirty-eight to whom the State should have the right to give orders; but men and women of all ages. Under conditions of modern warfare it is not only armies which need to be disciplined; but whole nations. The undisciplined nation, engaged in anything like an equal contest with a disciplined nation, will be defeated.
The Coalition Government
This volume was in type before the Coalition Government was formed; but there is nothing in it which I wish to change in view of that event. This book was not undertaken with the object of helping the Unionists back into power, or of getting the Liberals out of power.
The new Cabinet contains those members of the late one in whom the country has most confidence. Lord Kitchener, Sir Edward Grey, Mr. Lloyd George, and Mr. Churchill have all made mistakes. In a great crisis it is the bigger characters who are most liable to make mistakes. Their superiority impels them to take risks which the smaller men, playing always for safety, are concerned to avoid.
The present Ministry also contains representatives of that class of politicians which, according to the view set forth in the following pages, is primarily responsible for our present troubles. Lawyer-statesmanship, which failed to foresee the war, to prepare against it, and to conduct it with energy and thoroughness when it occurred, still occupies a large share of authority. Possibly ministers of this school will now walk in new ways. In any case, they are no longer in a position of dangerous predominance.
The Coalition Government, having wisely refused to part with any of those men who rose to the emergency, and having received an infusion of new blood (which may be expected to bring an accession of vigour) starts upon its career with the goodwill and confidence of the People.
What has happened, however, is a revolution upon an unprecedented scale—one which is likely to have vast consequences in the future. The country realises this fact, and accepts it as a matter of course—accepts it indeed with a sigh of relief. But in other quarters, what has just happened is hardly realised at all—still less what it is likely to lead to in the future.
During the 'Cabinet Crisis' one read a good deal of stuff in the newspapers, and heard still more by word of mouth, which showed how far, during the past nine months, public opinion has moved away from the professionals of politics; how little account it takes of them; also how much these gentlemen themselves mistake the meaning of the present situation.
In political circles one has heard, and read, very frequently of late, expressions of regret—on the one hand that Unionists should have come to the assistance of a discredited and bankrupt administration—on the other hand that a government, secure in the confidence of the country, should, through a mistaken sense of generosity, have admitted its opponents to a share in the glory and prestige of office. One has read, and heard, cavillings at the idea of appointing this, or that, public character to this, or that, office, as a thing beyond what this, or that, party 'could fairly be expected to stand.' Reports have appeared of meetings of 'a hundred' perturbed Liberals; and very possibly meetings, though unreported, of equally perturbed Unionists have also been held. An idea seems still to be prevalent in certain quarters, that what has just occurred is nothing more important than an awkward and temporary disarrangement of the party game; and that this game will be resumed, with all the old patriotism and good feeling, so soon as war is ended. But this appears to be a mistaken view. You cannot make a great mix-up of this sort without calling new parties into existence. When men are thrown into the crucible of a war such as this, the true ore will tend to run together, the dross to cake upon the surface. No matter to what parties they may have originally owed allegiance, the men who are in earnest, and who see realities, cannot help but come together. May be for several generations the annual festivals of the National Liberal Federation and the Union of Conservative Associations will continue to be held, like other picturesque survivals of ancient customs. When Henry VII. was crowned at Westminster, the Wars of the Roses ended; the old factions of York and Lancaster were dissolved, and made way for new associations. Something of the same sort has surely happened during the past month—Liberal and Conservative, Radical and Tory have ceased for the present to be real divisions. They had recently become highly artificial and confusing; now they are gone—it is to be hoped for ever.
Will the generation which is fighting this war—such of them as may survive—be content to go back to the old barren wrangle when it is done? Will those others who have lost husbands, sons, brothers, friends—all that was dearest to them except the honour and safety of their country—will they be found willing to tolerate the idea of trusting their destinies ever again to the same machines, to be driven once more to disaster by the same automatons? To all except the automatons themselves—who share with the German Supermen the credit of having made this war—any such resumption of business on old-established lines appears incredible. There is something pathetic in the sight of these huckstering sentimentalists still crying their stale wares and ancient make-believes at the street corners, while their country is fighting for its life. They remind one, not a little, of those Pardoners of the fourteenth century who, as we read in history books, continued to hawk their Indulgences with unabated industry during the days of the Black Death.
It is necessary to offer a few words of explanation as to how this book came to be written. During the months of November and December 1912 and January 1913, various meetings and discussions took place under Lord Roberts's roof and elsewhere, between a small number of persons, who held widely different views, and whose previous experience and training had been as different as were their opinions.
Our efforts were concerned with endeavouring to find answers to several questions which had never been dealt with candidly, clearly, and comprehensively in the public statements of political leaders. It was clear that there was no 'national' policy, which the British people had grasped, accepted, and countersigned, as was the case in France. But some kind of British policy there must surely be, notwithstanding the fact it had never been disclosed. What were the aims of this policy? With what nation or nations were these aims likely to bring us into collision? What armaments were necessary in order to enable us to uphold this policy and achieve these aims? How, and when, and where would our armaments be required in the event of war? Assuming (as we did in our discussions) that our naval forces were adequate, was the same statement true of our military forces? And if it were not true, by what means could the necessary increases be obtained?
The final conclusion at which we arrived was that National Service was essential to security. Under whatever aspect we regarded the problem we always returned—even those of us who were most unwilling to travel in that direction—to the same result. So long as Britain relied solely upon the voluntary principle, we should never possess either the Expeditionary Force or the Army for Home Defence which were requisite for safety.
It fell to me during the winter 1912-1913 to draft the summary of our conclusions. It was afterwards decided—in the spring of 1913—that this private Memorandum should be recast in a popular form suitable for publication. I was asked to undertake this, and agreed to do so. But I underestimated both the difficulties of the task and the time which would be necessary for overcoming them.
When we met again, in the autumn of that year, the work was still far from complete, and by that time, not only public attention, but our own, had become engrossed in other matters. The Irish controversy had entered upon a most acute and dangerous stage. Lord Roberts put off the meetings which he had arranged to address during the ensuing months upon National Service, and threw his whole energies into the endeavour to avert the schism which threatened the nation, and to find a way to a peaceful settlement. Next to the security and integrity of the British Empire I verily believe that the thing which lay nearest his heart was the happiness and unity of Ireland.
It is needless to recall how, during the ensuing months, affairs in Ireland continued to march from bad to worse—up to the very day when the menace of the present war suddenly arose before the eyes of Europe.
During August 1914 I went through the old drafts and memoranda which had now been laid aside for nearly a year. Although that very thing had happened which it had been the object of our efforts to avert, it seemed to me that there might be advantages in publishing some portion of our conclusions. The form, of course, would have to be entirely different; for the recital of prophecies which had come true, though it might have possessed a certain interest for the prophets themselves, could have but little for the public.
Early in September I consulted Lord Roberts, and also such of my friends, who had originally worked with me, as were still within reach. Finding that their opinion agreed with my own upon the desirability of publication, I laid out a fresh scheme, and set to for a third time at the old task. But as the work grew, it became clear that it would contain but little of the former Memorandum, and much which the former Memorandum had never contemplated. So many of our original conclusions, laboriously hammered out to convince the public in the spring of the year 1913, had become by the autumn of 1914, the most trite of commonplaces. And as for the practical scheme which we had evolved—endeavouring to keep our demands at the most modest minimum—it was interesting chiefly by reason of its triviality when contrasted with the scale of warlike preparations upon which the Government was now engaged. Practically, therefore, the whole of the present volume is new—not merely redrafted, but for the most part new in substance.
The author's acknowledgements.
I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to the friends with whom I have studied the problems of policy and defence for some years past. The responsibility for the contents and publication of the present volume is mine alone; but I have used their ideas without hesitation, and have drawn largely upon the notes and memoranda which they drafted for my assistance. I wish also to thank several others—one in chief—for the kindness with which, upon the present occasion, they have given me help and criticism as these pages were passing through the press.
There is also another source to which I wish here gratefully to confess my obligations. During the past five years there have appeared in The Round Table certain articles upon the relations of England with Germany[[1]] which have been characterised by a remarkable degree of prescience and sanity. At a certain point, however, there is a difference between the views expressed in The Round Table and those expressed in the following pages—a difference of stress and emphasis perhaps, rather than of fundamental opinion, but still a difference of some importance. I have dealt with this in the concluding chapter.
I should like to make one other acknowledgment of a different kind. I have known the editor of The National Review from a date long before he assumed his onerous office—from days when we were freshmen together by the banks of the Cam. During a period of upwards of thirty years, I cannot remember that I have ever had the good fortune to see absolutely eye to eye with Mr. Maxse upon any public question. Even now I do not see eye to eye with him. In all probability I never shall. At times his views have been in sharp opposition to my own. But for these very reasons—if he will not resent it as an impertinence—I should like to say here how greatly I respect him for three qualities, which have been none too common among public men in recent times—first, for the clearness with which he grasps and states his beliefs; secondly, for the courageous constancy with which he holds to them through good and evil report; thirdly, for the undeviating integrity of his public career. Next to Lord Roberts, he did more perhaps than any other—though unavailingly—to arouse public opinion to the dangers which menaced it from German aggression, to call attention to the national unpreparedness, and to denounce the blindness and indolence which treated warnings with derision.
Lord Roberts.
Lord Roberts's responsibility for the contents of this volume, as for its publication at the present time, is nil. And yet it would never have been undertaken in the first instance except at his wish, nor re-undertaken in September last without his encouragement. There are probably a good many besides myself who owe it to his inspiration, that they first made a serious attempt to study policy and defence as two aspects of a single problem. I also owe to him many things besides this.
The circumstances of Lord Roberts's death were befitting his character and career. The first great battle of Ypres was ended. The British line had held its own against tremendous odds of men and guns. He had no doubt of the ultimate result of the war, and during his visit to France and Flanders inspired all who saw him by the quiet confidence of his words and manner. After the funeral service at Headquarters a friend of his and mine wrote to me describing the scene. The religious ceremony had taken place in the entrance hall of the Maine at St. Omer. It was a day of storms; but as the coffin was borne out "the sun appeared, and made a magnificent rainbow on a great black block of cloud across the square; and an airman flew across from the rainbow into the sunlight."
If I were asked to name Lord Roberts's highest intellectual quality I should say unhesitatingly that it was his instinct. And if I were asked to name his highest moral quality I should say, also unhesitatingly, that it was the unshakeable confidence with which he trusted his instinct. But the firmness of his trust was not due in the least to self-conceit, or arrogance, or obstinacy. He obeyed his instinct as he obeyed his conscience—humbly and devoutly. The dictates of both proceeded from the same source. It was not his own cleverness which led him to his conclusions, but the hand of Providence which drew aside a veil, and enabled him to see the truth. What gave him his great strength in counsel, as in the field, was the simple modesty of his confidence.
He was a poor arguer; I think argument was painful to him; also that he regarded it as a sad waste of the short span of human life. It was not difficult to out-argue him. Plausible and perspicacious persons often left him, after an interview, under the firm impression that they had convinced him. But as a rule, he returned on the morrow to his old opinion, unless his would-be converters had brought to his notice new facts as well as new arguments.
He arrived at an opinion neither hastily nor slowly, but at a moderate pace. He had the gift of stating his conclusion with admirable lucidity; and if he thought it desirable, he gave the reasons for his view of the matter with an equal clearness. But his reasons, like his conclusion, were in the nature of statements; they were not stages in an argument. There are as many unanswerable reasons to be given for as against most human decisions. Ingenuity and eloquence are a curse at councils of war, and state, and business. Indeed, wherever action of any kind has to be determined upon they are a curse. It was Lord Roberts's special gift that, out of the medley of unanswerable reasons, he had an instinct for selecting those which really mattered, and keeping his mind close shut against the rest.
It is superfluous to speak of his courtesy of manner and kindness of heart, or of his unflagging devotion—up till the very day of his death—to what he regarded as his duty. There is a passage in Urquhart's translation of Rabelais which always recalls him to my mind:—He was the best little great good man that ever girded a sword on his side; he took all things in good part, and interpreted every action in the best sense. In a leading German newspaper there appeared, a few days after his death, the following reference to that event:—"It was not given to Lord Roberts to see the realisation of his dreams of National Service; but the blows struck on the Aisne were hammer-strokes which might after a long time and bitter need produce it. Lord Roberts was an honourable and, through his renown, a dangerous enemy ... personally an extraordinarily brave enemy. Before such a man we lower our swords, to raise them again for new blows dealt with the joy of conflict."
Nor was this the only allusion of the kind which figured in German newspapers 'to the journey of an old warrior to Walhalla,' with his final mission yet unaccomplished, but destined to be sooner or later accomplished, if his country was to survive. In none of these references, so far as I have been able to discover, was there the least trace of malice against the man who had warned his fellow-countrymen, more clearly than any other, against the premeditated aggression of Germany. This seems very strange when we recollect how, for nearly two years previously, a large section of the British nation had been engaged in denouncing Lord Roberts for the outrageous provocations which he was alleged to have offered to Germany—in apologising to Germany for his utterances—in suggesting the propriety of depriving him of his pension in the interests of Anglo-German amity. What this section has itself earned in the matter of German gratitude we know from many hymns and other effusions of hate.
Hugh Dawnay and John Gough.
I have dedicated this volume to the memory of John Gough and Hugh Dawnay, not solely on grounds of friendship, but also because from both I received, at different times, much help, advice, and criticism—from the latter when the original Memorandum was in course of being drafted—from both when it was being reconsidered with a view to publication. Whether either of them would agree with the statement in its present form is more than I can venture to say, and I have no intention of claiming their authority for conclusions which were never seen by them in final shape.
In the first instance (November 1912-March 1913) Dawnay[[2]] and I worked together. His original notes and memoranda are to a large extent incorporated in Parts III. and IV.—so closely, however, that I cannot now disentangle his from my own. The calculations as to numbers and probable distribution of the opposing forces, were almost entirely his. I have merely endeavoured here—not so successfully as I could wish—to bring them up to the date of the outbreak of war.
Dawnay took out his squadron of the 2nd Life Guards to France early in August. Already, however, he had been appointed to the Headquarters General Staff, on which he served with distinction, until early in October, when he succeeded to the command of his regiment. He fell at Zwarteleen near Ypres on the 6th of November 1914—one of the most anxious days during the four weeks' battle.
His friends have mourned his death, but none of them have grudged it; for he died, not merely as a brave man should—in the performance of his duty—but after having achieved, with consummate skill and daring, his part in an action of great importance. On the afternoon of this day General Kavanagh's Brigade of Household Cavalry[[3]]—summoned in haste—dismounted, and threw back a German attack which had partially succeeded in piercing the allied line at the point of junction between the French and English forces. This successful counter-attack saved the right flank of Lord Cavan's Guards' Brigade from a position of extreme danger, which must otherwise, almost certainly, have resulted in a perilous retreat. The whole of this Homeric story is well worth telling, and some day it may be told; but this is not the place.
Dawnay was fortunate inasmuch as he lost his life, not as so many brave men have done in this war—and in all others—by a random bullet, or as the result of somebody's blunder, or in an attempt which failed. On the contrary he played a distinguished, and possibly a determining part, in an action which succeeded, and the results of which were fruitful.
He was not merely a brave and skilful soldier when it came to push of pike, but a devoted student of his profession in times of peace. The mixture of eagerness and patience with which he went about his work reminded one, not a little, of that same combination of qualities as it is met with sometimes among men of science.
Hunting accidents, the privations of Ladysmith followed by enteric, divers fevers contracted in hot climates, and the severity of a campaign in Somaliland, had severely tried his constitution—which although vigorous and athletic was never robust—and had increased a tendency to headaches and neuralgia to which he had been subject ever since boyhood. Yet he treated pain always as a despicable enemy, and went about his daily business as indefatigably when he was in suffering, as when he was entirely free from it, which in later years was but rarely.
Dawnay had a very quick brain, and held his views most positively. It was sometimes said of him that he did not suffer fools gladly, and this was true up to a point. He was singularly intolerant of presumptuous fools, who laid down the law about matters of which they were wholly ignorant, or who—having acquired a smattering of second-hand knowledge—proceeded to put their ingenious and sophistical theories into practice. But for people of much slower wits than himself—if they were trying honestly to arrive at the truth—he was usually full of sympathy. His tact and patience upon great occasions were two of his noblest qualities.
In some ways he used to remind me, not a little, of Colonel Henry Esmond of Castlewood, Virginia. In both there was the same hard core of resistance against anything, which appeared to challenge certain adamantine principles concerning conduct befitting a gentleman. On such matters he was exceedingly stiff and unyielding. And he resembled the friend of Lord Bolingbroke, and General Webb, and Dick Steele also in this, that he was addicted to the figure of irony when crossed in discussion. One imagines, however, that Colonel Esmond must have kept his countenance better, and remained imperturbably grave until his shafts had all gone home. In Dawnay's case the sight of his opponent's lengthening face was, as a rule, too much for his sense of humour, and the attack was apt to lose some of its force—certainly all its fierceness—in a smile which reminded one of Carlyle's description—'sunlight on the sea.'
The following extract from a letter written by one of his friends who had attended the War Service at St. Paul's gives a true picture: "A sudden vision arose in my imagination of Hugh Dawnay striding down the choir, in full armour, like St. Michael—with his head thrown back, and that extraordinary expression of resolution which he always seemed to me to possess more than any one I have ever seen. His wide-apart eyes had more of the spirit of truth in them than almost any—also an intolerance of falsehood—or rather perhaps a disbelief in its existence...." This is true. He was one of that race of men whose recumbent figures are seen in our old churches and cathedrals, with hands clasping crusaders' swords against their breasts, their hounds couching at their feet.
In physique and temperament Hugh Dawnay and John Gough[[4]] were in most respects as unlike a pair of friends as ever walked this earth; but we might have searched far before we could have found two minds which, on most matters connected with their profession, were in more perfect accord. Dawnay, younger by four years, had served under Gough in trying times, and regarded him (an opinion which is very widely shared by seniors as well as juniors) as one of the finest soldiers of his age. Though Dawnay was slender and of great height, while Gough was rather below the middle stature, broad and firmly knit, there was one striking point of physical resemblance between them, in the way their heads were set upon their shoulders. There was something in the carriage of both which seemed to take it for granted that they would be followed wherever they might chose to lead. In Lord Roberts, and also in a strikingly different character—Mr. Chamberlain—there was the same poise, the same stable equilibrium, without a trace in it of self-consciousness or constraint. It may be that the habit of command induces this bearing in a man; or it may be that there is something in the nature of the man who bears himself thus which forces him to become a leader.
Gough took no part in the preparation of the original Memorandum; but in March 1913 he discussed it with me[[5]] and made various criticisms and suggestions, most of which have been incorporated here. His chief concern with regard to all proposals for a National Army was, that the period of training should be sufficient to allow time for turning the average man into a soldier who had full confidence in himself. "When war breaks out"—I can hear his words—"it's not recruits we want: it's soldiers we want: that is, if our object is to win the war as speedily as possible, and to lose as few lives as possible." Under normal peace conditions he put this period at a minimum of two years for infantry; but of course he would have admitted—and did, in fact, admit when I saw him last December—that under the stress and excitement of war the term might be considerably shortened.
His chief concern in 1913 was with regard to shortage of officers. He criticised with great severity the various recent attempts at reforming our military system, not only on the ground that we had chosen to rely upon training our national forces after war had actually broken out (in his view a most disastrous decision); but also because we had not taken care to provide ourselves against the very emergency which was contemplated, by having a reserve of officers competent to undertake the training of the new army in case of need.
I went to see him at Aldershot on the Friday before war was declared, and found, as I expected, that he regarded it as inevitable. He had undergone a very severe operation in the early summer, and was still quite unfit to stand the strain of hard exercise. It had been arranged that we were to go together, a few days later, to Sweden, for six weeks' shooting and fishing in the mountains. He was very anxious to return to England for the September manoeuvres. His surgeon,[[6]] however, forbade this, on the ground that even by that time he would not be fit to sit for a whole day in the saddle.
He was in two moods on this occasion. He was as light-hearted as a boy who is unexpectedly released from school; the reason being that the Army Medical Officer had that morning passed him as physically fit to go abroad with Sir Douglas Haig, to whom he had acted as Senior Staff Officer since the previous autumn.
His other mood was very different. The war which he had foreseen and dreaded, the war which in his view might have been avoided upon one condition, and one only—if England had been prepared—had come at last. I don't think I have ever known any one—certainly never any anti-militarist—whose hatred and horror of war gave the same impression of intensity and reality as his. Not metaphorically, but as a bare fact, his feelings with regard to it were too deep for words; he would suddenly break off speaking about things which had occurred in his own experience; in particular, about loss of friends and comrades. He was an Irishman, and had not the impassive coldness of some of the great soldiers. But most of all he hated war when it was not inevitable—when with foresight and courage it might have been averted—as in his opinion this war might have been.
In radium there is said to be a virtue which enables it to affect adjacent objects with its own properties, and to turn them, for a time, and for certain purposes, into things of the same nature as itself. Certain rare human characters possess a similar virtue; but although I have met with several of these in my life, there is none of them all who seemed to me to possess this quality in quite so high a degree as Gough. He was an alchemist who made fine soldiers out of all sorts and conditions of men, and whose spirit turned despondency out of doors.
The clearness of his instinct and the power of his mind were not more remarkable than his swiftness of decision and indomitable will. There are scores—probably hundreds—of young officers who fought by his side, or under him, at Ypres and elsewhere, who years hence, when they are themselves distinguished—perhaps great and famous—and come, in the evening of their days, to reckon up and consider the influences which have shaped their careers, will place his influence first. And there are boys looking forward to the day when they shall be old enough to serve in the King's Army, chiefly from the love and honour in which they held this hero, with his winning smile and superb self-confidence.
He has left behind him a tradition, if ever man did. You will find it everywhere, among young and old—among all with whom he ever came into touch. Nor is the tradition which he has left merely among soldiers and with regard to the art of war, but also in other spheres of private conduct and public life. He had strong prejudices as well as affections, which made him sometimes judge men unfairly, also on the other hand too favourably; but he banished all meanness from his neighbourhood, all thoughts of self-interest and personal advancement. Duty, discipline, self-discipline, and the joy of life—these were the rules he walked by; and if you found yourself in his company you had perforce to walk with him, keeping up with his stride as best you could.
We value our friends for different qualities, and would have their tradition fulfil itself in different ways. Those of us who counted these two—'Johnnie' Gough and Hugh Dawnay—among our friends will wish that our sons may be like them, and follow in their footsteps.
F.S.O.
CHECKENDON COURT, OXFORDSHIRE,
1st June 1915.
[[1]] The Round Table (quarterly Review). Macmillan & Co., Ltd. Of the articles referred to the chief are: 'Anglo-German Rivalry' (November 1910); 'Britain, France, and Germany' (December 1911); 'The Balkan War and the Balance of Power' (June 1913); 'Germany and the Prussian Spirit' (September 1914); 'The Schism of Europe' (March 1915). It is to be hoped that these and some others may be republished before long in more permanent form.
[[2]] Major the Hon. Hugh Dawnay, D.S.O., b. 1875; educated Eton and Sandhurst; Rifle Brigade, 1895; Nile Campaign and Omdurman, 1898; South Africa, 1899-1900; Somaliland, 1908-1910; 2nd Life Guards, 1912; France, August-November 1914.
[[3]] This Brigade was known during the battle of Ypres as 'the Fire Brigade,' for the reason that it was constantly being called up on a sudden to extinguish unforeseen conflagrations.
[[4]] Brigadier-General John Edmund Gough, V.C., C.M.G., C.B., A.D.C. to the King; b. 1871; educated Eton and Sandhurst; Rifle Brigade, 1892; British Central Africa, 1896-1897; Nile Campaign and Omdurman, 1898; South Africa, 1899-1902; Somaliland, 1902-1903 and 1908-1909; France, August 1914-February 1915.
[[5]] At St. Jean de Luz, when he was endeavouring, though not very successfully, to shake off the after-effects of his last Somaliland campaign. He was then engaged in correcting the proofs of the volume of his Staff College lectures which was subsequently published under the title Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville (Rees)—a most vivid and convincing narrative. In the intervals of work and golf he spent much of his time in visiting Wellington's adjacent battlefields and studying his passage of the Bidassoa and forcing of the Pyrenees.
[[6]] Gough's many friends will ever feel a double debt of gratitude to that distinguished surgeon, Sir Berkeley Moynihan, who by this operation restored him, after several years of ill-health and suffering, almost to complete health; and who once again—when by a strange coincidence of war he found his former patient lying in the hospital at Estaires the day after he was brought in wounded—came to his aid, and all but achieved the miracle of saving his life.
ORDEAL BY BATTLE
PART I
PART II
PART III
[THE SPIRIT OF BRITISH POLICY]
PART IV
[DEMOCRACY AND NATIONAL SERVICE]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE CAUSES OF WAR
PEACE AND WAR
PAGE
Peace is the greatest of British interests [3]
Peaceful intentions will not ensure peace [4]
Futility of Pacifism [6]
Causes of wars in general [8]
Causes of the American Civil War [10]
Influence of ideas of duty and self-sacrifice [11]
THE OUTBREAK OF WAR
July-August 1914 [13]
Reality or illusion [15]
The Serajevo murders [16]
Austria and Servia [17]
English efforts to preserve peace [18]
Mobilisation in Germany and Russia [19]
Questions of neutrality [19]
German Army enters Luxemburg, Belgium, and France [20]
General conflagration [20]
WHO WANTED WAR?
Why did war occur? [22]
Servia did not want war [22]
Neither did Russia or France [23]
Nor Belgium or England [25]
Austria wanted war with Servia alone [26]
Germany encouraged Austria to bring on war [29]
Germany desired war believing that England would remain neutral [29]
Austrian eleventh-hour efforts for peace frustrated by Germany [30]
Sir Edward Grey's miscalculation [31]
M. Sazonof thought war could have been avoided by plain speaking [32]
Sir Edward Grey's reasons against plain speaking [33]
Which was right? [34]
THE PENALTY OF NEGLIGENCE
Was war inevitable? [36]
Not if England had been prepared morally and materially [37]
Previous apprehensions of war [38]
Peculiar characteristics of German animosity [39]
British public opinion refused to treat it seriously [40]
PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY
Who actually caused the conflagration? [42]
Influence of the Professors, Press, and People of Germany [43]
Influence of the Court, Army, and Bureaucracy [44]
Various political characters [46]
The Kaiser [48]
There was no master-spirit [51]
GERMAN MISCALCULATIONS
Hero-worship and sham super-men [53]
The Blunders of Bureaucracy [55]
As to the time-table of the war [55]
As to the quality of the French Army [55]
As to the opinion of the world [56]
As to the treatment of Belgium [57]
As to British neutrality [58]
As to the prevalence of Pacifism in England [59]
As to Civil War in Ireland [62]
As to rebellion in South Africa [64]
As to Indian sedition [65]
As to the spirit of the self-governing Dominions [67]
Lack of instinct and its consequences [67]
INTERNATIONAL ILL-WILL
Great events do not proceed from small causes [69]
German hatred of England [70]
This is the German people's war [71]
Their illusion that England brought it about [73]
Difficulties in the way of international understandings [73]
British and German diplomacy compared [74]
German distrust and British indifference [78]
British policy as it appears to German eyes [79]
Vacillation mistaken for duplicity [80]
German policy as it appears to British eyes [81]
THE SPIRIT OF GERMAN POLICY
THE BISMARCKIAN EPOCH
National dreams [87]
1789 and after [87]
The first German dream—Union [88]
How it was realised [89]
What the world thought of it [90]
Material development in Germany [91]
The peace policy of Bismarck [92]
AFTER BISMARCK
Nightmares and illusions [94]
Grievances against England, France, and Russia [96]
The second German dream—Mastery of the World [97]
Absorption of Belgium, Holland, and Denmark [98]
The Austro-Hungarian inheritance [98]
The Balkan peninsula [99]
Turkey in Asia [100]
German diplomacy at Constantinople [101]
The Baghdad Railway [102]
The hoped-for fruits of 'inevitable' wars [103]
The possession of Africa [103]
The Chinese Empire [104]
THE GERMAN PROJECT OF EMPIRE
Qualities of the German vision [106]
Symmetry and vastness are dangerous ideals [107]
Frederick the Great and Bismarck [108]
German predisposition to follow dreamers [108]
Grotesque proportions of the Second German dream [109]
The two Americas [110]
Pacifism and Militarism meet at infinity [111]
THE NEW MORALISTS
Germany goes in search of an ethical basis [113]
Special grievances against France and England [114]
German thinkers recast Christian morals [115]
Heinrich von Treitschke [116]
The principle of the state is power [117]
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche [118]
His contempt for British and Prussian ideals [119]
General von Bernhardi [122]
New morality never accepted by the German people [123]
Thrown over even by 'the brethren' when war occurred [124]
Causes of this apostasy [126]
THE STATECRAFT OF A PRIESTHOOD
German education a drill system [127]
Intellectuals are ranged on the government side [129]
Eighteenth-century France and modern Germany [129]
Contrast between their bureaucracies [130]
Between the attitude of their intellectuals [131]
Between their fashions of fancy dress [131]
Dangers to civilisation from within and without [132]
Political thinkers are usually destructive [133]
Unfitness of priesthoods for practical affairs [135]
Contrast between priests and lawyers [137]
Natural affinity between soldiers and priests [139]
Unforeseen consequences of German thoroughness [140]
May lead ultimately to ostracism of Germany [140]
Types of German agents [141]
Treacherous activities in time of peace [142]
The German political creed [144]
The true aim of this war [146]
THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE
Intelligence and enterprise of the Germans [149]
They are nevertheless devoted to their own institutions [150]
German system is not reactionary but the reverse [151]
Experts are honoured and trusted [151]
German esteem for men of learning [152]
And for the military caste [153]
And for their Kaiser [155]
German contempt for party government [156]
And for the character of British official news [157]
And for the failure of the British Government to trust the people [160]
And for its fear of asking the people to make sacrifices [161]
And for the voluntary system [162]
Their pride in the successes of German arms [163]
And in the number and spirit of their new levies [163]
Which they contrast with British recruiting [164]
The methods of which they despise [165]
What is meant by 'a popular basis' of government? [166]
THE CONFLICTS OF SYSTEMS AND IDEAS
Two issues between England and Germany [167]
Democracy cannot endure unless capable of self-defence [168]
Democracy good and bad [169]
Self-criticism may be carried too far [171]
The two dangers of democracy—German Arms and German Ideas [173]
Fundamental opposition between the spirit of German policy and our own [173]
German people have not accepted the moral ideas of their priesthood [174]
Recantation among 'the brethren' themselves on outbreak of war [175]
The cult of war [176]
THE SPIRIT OF BRITISH POLICY
A REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD (JANUARY 1901-JULY 1914)
In this war Democracy is fighting for its existence [181]
Against highly organised materialism [183]
The opening of the twentieth century [186]
Spirit of constitutional change [188]
Disappearance of great figures from the scene [189]
Change in character of the House of Commons [192]
Dearth of leadership [194]
Consequent demoralisation of parties [195]
And widespread anxiety [196]
Pre-eminence of Mr. Asquith [197]
His Parliamentary supremacy [198]
His maxim—wait-and-see [199]
Character of his oratory [199]
Increasing prominence of lawyers in politics [200]
Their influence on Parliamentary institutions and national policy [201]
Mr. Asquith's limitations [203]
THREE GOVERNING IDEAS
Situation at the death of Queen Victoria [207]
Comfort and security are not synonymous [208]
Two problems absorbed public attention [209]
Social and Constitutional Reform [209]
A third problem, security, was overlooked [210]
Social Reform intrinsically the most important [211]
The urgent need of peace [212]
Earnestness of public opinion [212]
How it was baulked by circumstances [213]
Limitations of popular judgment [214]
Want of leadership [216]
Strangulation of sincerity by party system [218]
The artificial opposition of three great ideas [221]
POLICY AND ARMAMENTS
The aim of British policy [223]
Organised and unorganised defences [223]
Policy depends on armaments, armaments on policy [225]
Difficulty of keeping these principles in mind [226]
Diplomacy to-day depends more than ever on armaments [228]
The sad example of China [229]
Policy should conform to national needs [230]
Dangers threatening British security (1901-1914) [231]
The Committee of Imperial Defence [232]
Reasons of its comparative failure [234]
Parliament and the people were left uneducated [235]
Naval preparations were adequate [236]
Military preparations were absurdly inadequate [237]
Our Foreign policy rested on an entirely false assumption as regards the adequacy of our Army [238]
THE BALANCE OF POWER
Security required that we should take account of Europe [241]
German aim—the suzerainty of Western Europe [243]
Maintenance of the Balance of Power [244]
This is the unalterable condition of British security [245]
This need produced the Triple Entente [247]
Splendid isolation no longer compatible with security [249]
Meaning of a defensive war [249]
Defence of north-eastern frontier of France essential to British security [250]
THE MILITARY SITUATION (AUGUST 1911)
The British 'Expeditionary Force' [252]
Numbers as a test of adequacy [253]
Relations of Italy with Germany and Austria in event of war [254]
Troops for defence of coasts and neutral frontiers [256]
Germany must hold Russia in check with superior numbers [256]
Germany would then endeavour to crush France [257]
Having a superiority of 500,000 men available for this purpose [257]
Why neutrality of Holland was a German interest [258]
Why neutrality of Belgium was an obstacle to Germany [259]
Inadequacy of our own Army to turn the scales [260]
Our armaments did not correspond with our policy [261]
Ministerial confidence in the 'voluntary system' [261]
Three periods of war—the onset, the grip, and the drag [263]
In 1870 the onset decided the issue [264]
By 1914 the power of swift attack had increased [265]
Forecasts confirmed by experience (Aug.-Sept. 1914) [266]
Immense value of British sea-power [266]
No naval success, however, can win a European war [267]
Naval supremacy not the only essential to British security [268]
THE MILITARY SITUATION (AUGUST 1914)
Changes between August 1911 and August 1914 [269]
Sensational German increases in 1913 took full effect within a year [270]
Inability of France to counter this effort unaided [270]
French increase could not take effect till 1916 [271]
Russian and Austrian increases [272]
No attempt to increase British Army though it is below strength [273]
Balkan wars (1912-1913) [273]
Their effect on Balance of Power [274]
Reasons why they did not lead to general conflagration [275]
Germany's two dates: June 1914-June 1916 [275]
A TRAGEDY OF ERRORS
Why should we suspect Germany of evil intentions? [277]
The German Fleet was a challenge to British security [278]
Candour of German publicists [278]
British Government finds comfort in official assurances of Berlin [279]
Disregarded warnings [279]
First Warning [279]
(1905-1906) Morocco incident [279]
After which British naval programme was reduced [280]
Second Warning [281]
(1908-1909) Secret acceleration and increase of German naval programme [281]
Imperial Defence Conference [281]
Third Warning [282]
(1910) German sincerity under suspicion [282]
The Constitutional Conference [283]
Secret de Polichinelle [283]
Failure of British Government to trust the people [284]
Fourth Warning [285]
(1911) The Agadir incident [285]
Mr. Lloyd George's speech [285]
Consequences of various kinds [286]
Fifth Warning [287]
(1912) Lord Haldane's rebuff [287]
Menacing nature of German proposals [288]
Dangers of amateur diplomacy [289]
German love of irregular missions [290]
Sixth Warning [294]
(1913) German Army Bill and War Loan [294]
British Government ignore the danger [295]
Neglect military preparations [297]
Shrink from speaking plainly to the people [298]
Difficulties of Sir Edward Grey [298]
Enemies in his own household [299]
Radical attacks on Foreign Secretary and First Lord of Admiralty fomented by Germany [299]
Attitude of a leaderless Cabinet [300]
Parallelogram of fears determines drift of policy [301]
Evil effects of failure to educate public opinion [302]
Danger of breaking the Liberal party [303]
Occasional efficacy of self-sacrifice [303]
War not inevitable had England been prepared [304]
DEMOCRACY AND NATIONAL SERVICE
THE BRITISH ARMY AND THE PEACE OF EUROPE
Public opinion puzzled by military problems [309]
The nation's growing anxiety and distrust (1909-1914) [310]
Army affairs a shuttlecock in the political game [312]
'The blood taxes' [313]
The nation realised it had not been treated with candour [313]
Powerful British Army the best guarantee for European peace [314]
Alone among European nations Britain had not an army commensurate to her population, policy, and resources [316]
THE COMPOSITION OF THE BRITISH ARMY
The Regular Army [317]
Three classes of reserves [318]
The Army Reserve [318]
The Special Reserve [319]
The Territorial Army [320]
The numbers of trained soldiers immediately available for war [321]
These were inadequate to redress the balance against the Triple Entente [322]
In the onset period untrained and half-trained troops were of no use [322]
Shortage of officers capable of training raw troops [323]
Lord Haldane's failure to carry out his own principles [324]
Moral effect of our support of France at Agadir crisis [326]
Adverse changes between 1911 and 1914 [326]
Size of British striking force necessary as complete were of against a coolly calculated war [327]
Reserves required behind this striking force [328]
South African War no precedent for a European war [330]
LORD ROBERTS'S WARNINGS
The Manchester speech (October 22, 1912) [332]
Liberal denunciation and Unionist coolness [332]
Attack concentrated on three passages [333]
Two of these have been proved true by events [334]
The other was misinterpreted by its critics [335]
Liberal criticism [336]
Unionist criticism [341]
Ministerial rebukes [343]
No regret has ever been expressed subsequently for any of these attacks [347]
LORD KITCHENER'S TASK
All Lord Roberts's warnings were proved true [350]
Many people nevertheless still believed that the voluntary system was a success [351]
Lord Kitchener as Secretary of State for War [353]
His previous record of success [354]
His hold on public confidence [354]
His grasp of the simple essentials [355]
His determination to support France and make a New Army [355]
His remarkable achievements [356]
His want of knowledge of British political and industrial conditions [356]
His colleagues, however, understood these thoroughly [357]
MATERIAL OF WAR
Industrial congestion at the outbreak of war [358]
Need for looking far ahead and organising production of war material [359]
The danger of labour troubles [360]
Outcry about shortage of supplies [360]
Official denials were disbelieved [361]
METHODS OF RECRUITING
The first need was men [364]
A call for volunteers the only way of meeting it [364]
The second need was a system to provide men as required over the period of the war [365]
No system was devised [365]
The Government shrank from exercising its authority [366]
Trusted to indirect pressure [366]
And sensational appeals [367]
They secured a new army of the highest quality [368]
But they demoralised public opinion by their methods [369]
Public opinion at the outbreak of war was admirable [372]
It was ready to obey orders [373]
No orders came [374]
The triumph of the voluntary system [376]
From the point of view of a Belgian or a Frenchman the triumph is not so clear [377]
The voluntary system is inadequate to our present situation [379]
Folly of waiting for disaster to demonstrate the necessity of National Service [380]
PERVERSITIES OF THE ANTI-MILITARIST SPIRIT
British methods of recruiting in normal times [382]
The Conscription of Hunger [382]
The cant of the voluntary principle [384]
The 'economic' fallacy [385]
The fallacy of underrating the moral of conscript armies [387]
The army which we call 'voluntary' our enemies call 'mercenary' [389]
'Mercenary' describes not the British Army but the British People [389]
The true description of the British Army is 'Professional' [390]
The theory of the British Army [391]
That officers should pay for the privilege of serving [391]
That the rank and file should contract for a term of years [392]
Under pressure of want [392]
At pay which is below the market rate [392]
This contract is drastically enforced [393]
With the full approval of anti-militarist opinion [393]
Inconsistencies of the anti-militarists [394]
Their crowning inconsistency [395]
Other industries put pressure on society [396]
Why should not a professional army? [396]
The example of Rome [397]
A professional army when it first interferes in politics usually does so as a liberator [397]
Then military despotism follows speedily [399]
A fool's paradise [399]
SOME HISTORICAL REFLECTIONS
Bugbears [401]
Conflict of 'opinion' with 'the facts' [402]
An army is no defence unless it is available for service abroad [402]
The Industrial Epoch (1832-1886) [403]
Its grudging attitude towards the Army [403]
Honour paid by conscript nations to their armies [406]
Democracy cannot subsist without personal service [406]
During the Industrial Epoch exemption from Personal Service was regarded as the essence of Freedom [408]
War was regarded as an anachronism [409]
Since 1890 there has been a slow but steady reaction from these ideas [410]
Volunteer movement and Territorial Army compared [411]
Effect of the Soudan campaign and South African War [411]
Effect of more recent events [412]
Have we passed out of a normal condition into an abnormal one, or the reverse? [412]
Germany's great grievance against Britain: we thought to hold our Empire without sacrifices [413]
The Freiherr von Hexenküchen's views—
(1) On our present case of conscience [416]
(2) On our voluntary system [416]
The American Civil War [417]
Lincoln insisted on conscription (1863) [418]
His difficulties [418]
Results of his firmness [419]
Difference in our own case [419]
Our need for conscription is much greater [419]
It is also far easier for our Government to enforce it [420]
THE CRUCIBLE OF WAR
The objects of this book [421]
Criticism of naval and military strategy is no part of its purpose [422]
Nor the ultimate political settlement of Europe [424]
Nor an inquisition into 'German atrocities' [424]
But the basis of Germany's policy must be understood [425]
And what we are fighting for and against [425]
The causes of German strength [427]
The causes of British weakness [427]
Illusions as to the progress of the war [428]
The real cause of our going to war [430]
Democracy is not by its nature invincible [431]
Leadership is our chief need [433]
The folly of telling half-truths to the People [435]
PART I
THE CAUSES OF WAR
Then Apollyon strodled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter, prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal Den, that thou shalt go no further; here will I spill thy soul.
And with that he threw a flaming Dart at his breast, but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that.
Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to bestir him: and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing Darts as thick as Hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot: this made Christian give a little back; Apollyon therefore followed his work amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore Combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.
Then Apollyon espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now: and with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his Sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy! when I fall I shall arise; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound: Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian for a season saw him no more.
In this Combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring, Apollyon made all the time of the fight; he spake like a Dragon....
The Pilgrim's Progress.
CHAPTER I
PEACE AND WAR
It is a considerable number of years since the most distinguished Tory statesman of his time impressed upon his fellow-countrymen as a maxim of policy, that Peace is the greatest of British interests. There was an unexpectedness about Lord Salisbury's words, coming as they did from the leader of a party which had hitherto lain under suspicion of jingoism, which gave the phrase almost the colour of an epigram. The truth of the saying, however, gradually became manifest to all men; and thereupon a new danger arose out of this very fact.
As a nation we are in some ways a great deal too modest; or it may be, looking at the matter from a critical standpoint, too self-centred. We have always been inclined to assume in our calculations that we ourselves are the only possible disturbers of the peace, and that if we do not seek war, or provoke it, no other Power will dream of forcing war upon us. This unfortunately has rarely been the case; and those persons who, in recent times, have refused most scornfully to consider the lessons of past history, have now at last learned from a sterner schoolmaster the falseness of their favourite doctrine.
The United Kingdom needed and desired peace, so that it might proceed undistracted, and with firm purpose, to set its house in order. The Dominions needed peace, so that they might have time to people their fertile but empty lands, to strike deep roots and become secure. To the Indian Empire and the Dependencies peace was essential, if a system of government, which aimed, not unsuccessfully, at giving justice and fostering well-being, was to maintain its power and prestige unshaken. The whole British race had nothing material to gain by war, but much to lose, much at any rate which would be put in jeopardy by war. In spite of all these weighty considerations which no man of sense and knowledge will venture to dispute, we should have been wiser had we taken into account the fact, that they did not apply to other nations, that in the main they affected ourselves alone, and that our case was no less singular than, in one sense at all events, it was fortunate.
We did not covet territory or new subjects. Still less were we likely to engage in campaigns out of a thirst for glory. In the latter particular at least we were on a par with the rest of the world. The cloud of anxiety which for ten or more years has brooded over the great conscript nations, growing steadily darker, contained many dangers, but among these we cannot reckon such antiquated motives as trivial bravado, light-hearted knight-errantry, or the vain pursuit of military renown.
What is called in history books 'an insult' seemed also to have lost much of its ancient power for plunging nations into war. The Chancelleries of Europe had grown cautious, and were on the watch against being misled by the emotions of the moment. A sensational but unintended injury was not allowed to drive us into war with Russia in 1904, and this precedent seemed of good augury. Moreover, when every statesman in Europe was fully alive to the electric condition of the atmosphere, a deliberate insult was not very likely to be offered from mere ill-manners or in a fit of temper, but only if there were some serious purpose behind it, in which case it would fall under a different category.
Fear was a great danger, and everybody knew it to be so—fear lest this nation, or that, might be secretly engaged in strengthening its position in order to crush one of its neighbours at some future date, unless that neighbour took time by the forelock and struck out forthwith. Among the causes which might bring about a surprise outbreak of war this was the most serious and probable. It was difficult to insure against it. But though perilous in the extreme while it lasts, panic is of the nature of an epidemic: it rages for a while and passes away. It had been raging now with great severity ever since 1909,[[1]] and by midsummer 1914 optimists were inclined to seek consolation in the thought that the crisis must surely be over.
DANGERS TO PEACE
More dangerous to peace in the long run even than fear, were certain aims and aspirations, which from one standpoint were concrete and practical, but regarded from another were among the cloudiest of abstractions—'political interests,' need of new markets, hunger for fresh territory to absorb the outflow of emigrants, and the like; on the other hand, those hopes and anxieties which haunt the imaginations of eager men as they look into the future, and dream dreams and see visions of a grand national fulfilment.
If the British race ever beheld a vision of this sort, it had been realised already. We should have been wise had we remembered that this accomplished fact, these staked-out claims of the British Empire, appeared to fall like a shadow across visions seen by other eyes, blotting out some of the fairest hopes, and spoiling the noble proportions of the patriot's dream.
There is a region where words stumble after truth, like children chasing a rainbow across a meadow to find the pot of fairy gold. Multitudinous volumes stuffed with the cant of pacifism and militarism will never explain to us the nature of peace and war. But a few bars of music may sometimes make clear things which all the moralists, and divines, and philosophers—even the poets themselves for the most part, though they come nearer to it at times than the rest—have struggled vainly to show us in their true proportions. The songs of a nation, its national anthems—if they be truly national and not merely some commissioned exercise—are better interpreters than state papers. A man will learn more of the causes of wars, perhaps even of the rights and wrongs of them, by listening to the burst and fall of the French hymn, the ebb and surge of the Russian, in Tschaikovsky's famous overture, than he ever will from books or speeches, argument or oratory.
IMPOTENCE OF LOGIC
Yet there are people who think it not impossible to prove to mankind by logical processes, that the loss which any great nation must inevitably sustain through war, will far outweigh any advantages which can ensue from it, even if the arms of the conqueror were crowned with victories greater than those of Caesar or Napoleon. They draw us pictures of the exhaustion which must inevitably follow upon such a struggle conducted upon the modern scale, of the stupendous loss of capital, destruction of credit, paralysis of industry, arrest of progress in things spiritual as well as temporal, the shock to civilisation, and the crippling for a generation, probably for several generations, possibly for ever, of the victorious country in its race with rivals who have wisely stood aside from the fray. These arguments may conceivably be true, may in no particular be over-coloured, or an under-valuation, either of the good which has been attained by battle, or of the evils which have been escaped. But they would be difficult to establish even before an unbiassed court, and they are infinitely more difficult to stamp upon popular belief.
It is not sufficient either with statesmen or peoples to set before them a chain of reasoning which is logically unanswerable. Somehow or other the new faith which it is desired to implant, must be rendered independent of logic and unassailable by logic. It must rise into a higher order of convictions than the intellectual before it can begin to operate upon human affairs. For it is matched against opinions which have been held and acted upon so long, that they have become unquestionable save in purely academic discussions. At those decisive moments, when action follows upon thought like a flash, conclusions which depend upon a train of reasoning are of no account: instinct will always get the better of any syllogism.
So when nations are hovering on the brink of war, it is impulse, tradition, or some stuff of the imagination—misused deliberately, as sometimes happens, by crafty manipulators—which determines action much more often than the business calculations of shopkeepers and economists. Some cherished institution seems to be threatened. Some nationality supposed—very likely erroneously—to be of the same flesh and blood as ourselves, appears—very likely on faulty information—to be unjustly oppressed. Two rival systems of civilisation, of morals, of religion, approach one another like thunder-clouds and come together in a clash. Where is the good at such times of casting up sums, and exhibiting profit-and-loss accounts to the public gaze? People will not listen, for in their view considerations of prosperity and the reverse are beside the question. Wealth, comfort, even life itself, are not regarded; nor are the possible sufferings of posterity allowed to count any more than the tribulations of to-day. In the eyes of the people the matter is one of duty not of interest. When men fight in this spirit the most lucid exposition of material drawbacks is worse than useless; for the national mood, at such moments, is one of self-sacrifice. The philosopher, or the philanthropist, is more likely to feed the flames than to put them out when he proves the certainty of loss and privation, and dwells upon the imminent peril of ruin and destruction.
The strength of the fighter is the strength of his faith. Each new Gideon who goes out against the Midianites fancies that the sword of the Lord is in his hand. He risks all that he holds dear, in order that he may pull down the foul images of Baal and build up an altar to Jehovah, in order that his race may not be shorn of its inheritance, in order that it may hold fast its own laws and institutions, and not pass under the yoke of the Gentiles. This habit of mind is unchanging throughout the ages. What moved men to give their lives at Marathon moved them equally, more than a thousand years later, to offer the same sacrifice under the walls of Tours. It is still moving them, after yet another thousand years and more have passed away, in the plains of Flanders and the Polish Marshes.
THE MOTIVES OF NATIONS
When the Persian sought to force the dominion of his ideals upon the Greek, the states of Hellas made head against him from the love and honour in which they held their own. When the successors of the Prophet, zealous for their faith, confident in the protection of the One God, drove the soldiers of the Cross before them from the passes of the Pyrenees to the vineyards of Touraine, neither side would have listened with any patience to a dissertation upon the inconveniences resulting from a state of war and upon the economic advantages of peace. It was there one faith against another, one attitude towards life against another, one system of manners, customs, and laws against another. When a collision occurs in this region of human affairs there is seldom room for compromise or adjustment. Things unmerchantable cannot be purchased with the finest of fine gold.
In these instances, seen by us from far off, the truth of this is easily recognised. But what some of our recent moralists have overlooked, is the fact that forces of precisely the same order exist in the world of to-day, and are at work, not only among the fierce Balkan peoples, in the resurgent empire of Japan, and in the great military nations—the French, the Germans, and the Russians—but also in America and England. The last two pride themselves upon a higher civilisation, and in return are despised by the prophets of militarism as worshippers of material gain. The unfavourable and the flattering estimate agree, however, upon a single point—in assuming that our own people and those of the United States are unlikely to yield themselves to unsophisticated impulse. This assumption is wholly false.
VIRTUES OF THE WAR SPIRIT
If we search carefully, we shall find every where underlying the great struggles recorded in past history, no less than those which have occurred, and are now occurring, in our own time, an antagonism of one kind or another between two systems, visions, or ideals, which in some particular were fundamentally opposed and could not be reconciled. State papers and the memoranda of diplomatists, when in due course they come to light, are not a little apt to confuse the real issues, by setting forth a diary of minor incidents and piquant details, not in their true proportions, but as they appeared at the moment of their occurrence to the eyes of harassed and suspicious officials. But even so, all the emptying of desks and pigeon-holes since the great American Civil War, has not been able to cover up the essential fact, that in this case a million lives were sacrificed by one of the most intelligent, humane, and practical nations upon earth, and for no other cause than that there was an irreconcilable difference amongst them, with regard to what St. Paul has called 'the substance of things hoped for.' On the one side there was an ideal of Union and a determination to make it prevail: on the other side there was an ideal of Independence and an equal determination to defend it whatsoever might be the cost. If war on such grounds be possible within the confines of a single nation, nurtured in the same traditions, and born to a large extent of the same stock, how futile is the assurance that economic and material considerations will suffice to make war impossible between nations, who have not even the tie of a common mother-tongue!
A collision may occur, as we know only too well, even although one of two vessels be at anchor, if it happens to lie athwart the course of the other. It was therefore no security against war that British policy did not aim at any aggrandisement or seek for any territorial expansion. The essential questions were—had we possessions which appeared to obstruct the national aspirations and ideals of others; and did these others believe that alone, or in alliance, they had the power to redress the balance?
The real difficulty which besets the philanthropist in his endeavour to exorcise the spirit of war is caused, not by the vices of this spirit, but by its virtues. In so far as it springs from vainglory or cupidity, it is comparatively easy to deal with. In so far as it is base, there is room for a bargain. It can be compounded with and bought off, as we have seen before now, with some kind of material currency. It will not stand out for very long against promises of prosperity and threats of dearth. But where, as at most crises, this spirit is not base, where its impulse is not less noble, but more noble than those which influence men day by day in the conduct of their worldly affairs, where the contrast which presents itself to their imagination is between duty on the one hand and gain on the other, between self-sacrifice and self-interest, between their country's need and their own ease, it is not possible to quench the fires by appeals proceeding from a lower plane. The philanthropist, if he is to succeed, must take still higher ground, and higher ground than this it is not a very simple matter to discover.
[[1]] The increase and acceleration of German shipbuilding was discovered by the British Government in the autumn of 1908, and led to the Imperial Defence Conference in the summer of the following year.
CHAPTER II
THE OUTBREAK OF WAR
When war came, it came suddenly. A man who had happened to fall sick of a fever on St. Swithin's day 1914, but was so far on the way to convalescence four weeks later as to desire news of the outside world, must have been altogether incredulous of the tidings which first greeted his ears.
When he fell ill the nations were at peace. The townspeople of Europe were in a holiday humour, packing their trunks and portmanteaus for 'land travel or sea-faring.' The country people were getting in their harvest or looking forward hopefully to the vintage. Business was prosperous. Credit was good. Money, in banking phraseology, was 'cheap.' The horror of the Serajevo assassinations had already faded almost into oblivion. At the worst this sensational event was only an affair of police. Such real anxiety as existed in the United Kingdom had reference to Ireland.
We can imagine the invalid's first feeble question on public affairs:—'What has happened in Ulster?'—The answer, 'Nothing has happened in Ulster.'—The sigh of relief with which he sinks back on his pillows.
When, however, they proceed to tell him what has happened, elsewhere than in Ulster, during the four weeks while they have been watching by his bedside, will he not fancy that his supposed recovery is only an illusion, and that he is still struggling with the phantoms of his delirium?
For what will they have to report? That the greater part of the world which professes Christianity has called out its armies; that more than half Europe has already joined battle; that England, France, Russia, Belgium, Servia, and Montenegro on the one side are ranged against Germany and Austria on the other. Japan, they will tell him, is upon the point of declaring war. The Turk is wondering if, and when, he may venture to come in; while the Italian, the Roumanian, the Bulgar, the Greek, the Dutchman, the Dane, and the Swede are reckoning no less anxiously for how short or long a period it may still be safe for them to stand out. Three millions of men, or thereabouts—a British Army included—are advancing against one another along the mountain barriers of Luxemburg, Lorraine, and Alsace. Another three millions are engaged in similar evolutions among the lakes of East Prussia, along the river-banks of Poland, and under the shadow of the Carpathians. A large part of Belgium is already devastated, her villages are in ashes or flames, her eastern fortresses invested, her capital threatened by the invader.
Nine-tenths or more of the navies of the world are cleared for action, and are either scouring the seas in pursuit, or are withdrawn under the shelter of land-batteries watching their opportunity for a stroke. Air-craft circle by day and night over the cities, dropping bombs, with a careless and impartial aim, upon buildings both private and public, both sacred and profane, upon churches, palaces, hospitals, and arsenals. The North Sea and the Baltic are sown with mines. The trade of the greater part of industrial Europe is at a standstill; the rest is disorganised; while the credit and finances, not merely of Europe, but of every continent, are temporarily in a state either of chaos or paralysis.
A NIGHTMARE
To the bewildered convalescent all this may well have seemed incredible. It is hardly to be wondered at if he concluded that the fumes of his fever were not yet dispersed, and that this frightful phantasmagoria had been produced, not by external realities, but by the disorders of his own brain.
How long it might have taken to convince him of the truth and substance of these events we may judge from our own recent experience. How long was it after war broke out, before even we, who had watched the trouble brewing through all its stages, ceased to be haunted, even in broad daylight, by the feeling that we were asleep, and that the whole thing was a nightmare which must vanish when we awoke? We were faced (so at least it seemed at frequent moments) not by facts, but by a spectre, and one by no means unfamiliar—the spectre of Europe at war, so long dreaded by some, so scornfully derided by others, so often driven away, of late years so persistently reappearing. But this time the thing refused to be driven away. It sat, hunched up, with its head resting on its hands, as pitiless and inhuman as one of the gargoyles on a Gothic cathedral, staring through us, as if we were merely vapour, at something beyond.
So late as Wednesday, July 29—the day on which Austria declared war on Servia—there was probably not one Englishman in a hundred who believed it possible that, within a week, his own country would be at war; still less, that a few days later the British Army would be crossing the Channel to assist France and Belgium in repelling a German invasion. To the ordinary man—and not merely to the ordinary man, but equally to the press, and the great majority of politicians—such things were unthinkable until they occurred. Unfortunately, the inability to think a thing is no more a protection against its occurrence than the inability to see a thing gives security to the ostrich.
The sequence of events which led up to the final disaster is of great importance, although very far from being in itself a full explanation of the causes.
On June 28, 1914, the heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, together with his consort, was murdered by a young Bosnian at Serajevo, not far distant from the southern frontier. The Imperial authorities instituted a secret enquiry into the circumstances of the plot, as a result of which they professed to have discovered that it had been hatched at Belgrade, that Government officials were implicated in it, and that so far from being reprobated, it was approved by Servian public opinion.[[1]]
On Thursday, July 23—a month after the tragedy—Austria suddenly delivered an ultimatum to Servia, and demanded an acceptance of its terms within forty-eight hours. The demands put forward were harsh, humiliating, and unconscionable. They were such as could not have been accepted, as they stood, by any nation which desired to preserve a shred of its independence. They had been framed with the deliberate intention, either of provoking a refusal which might afford a pretext for war, or of procuring an acceptance which would at once reduce the Servian Kingdom to the position of a vassal. Even in Berlin it was admitted[[2]] that this ultimatum asked more than it was reasonable to expect Servia to yield. But none the less, there can be but little doubt that the German ambassador at Vienna saw and approved the document before it was despatched, and it seems more than likely that he had a hand in drafting it. It also rests on good authority that the German Kaiser was informed beforehand of the contents, and that he did not demur to its presentation.[[3]]
THE SERVIAN REPLY
On the evening of Saturday, July 25, the Servian Government, as required, handed in its answer. The purport of this, when it became known to the world, excited surprise by the humility of its tone and the substance of its submission. Almost everything that Austria had demanded was agreed to. What remained outstanding was clearly not worth quarrelling about, unless a quarrel were the object of the ultimatum. The refusal, such as it was, did not close the door, but, on the contrary, contained an offer to submit the subjects of difference to the Hague Convention.[[4]]
The document was a lengthy one. The Austrian minister at Belgrade nevertheless found time to read it through, to weigh it carefully, to find it wanting, to ask for his passports, and to catch his train, all within a period not exceeding three-quarters of an hour from the time at which it was put into his hands.[[5]]
When these occurrences became known, the English Foreign Minister immediately made proposals for a conference between representatives of Germany, France, Italy, and Great Britain, with the object of discovering some means of peaceful settlement.[[6]] France and Italy promptly accepted his invitation.[[7]] Germany, while professing to desire mediation, did not accept it.[[8]] Consequently Sir Edward Grey's effort failed; and before he was able to renew it in any more acceptable form, Austria, acting with a promptitude almost unique in her annals, declared war upon Servia, and hostilities began.
It is unnecessary to enter here into an examination of the feverish and fruitless attempts to preserve peace, which were made in various quarters during the next four and twenty hours. They present a most pathetic appearance, like the efforts of a crew, sitting with oars unshipped, arguing, exhorting, and imploring, while their boat drifts on to the smooth lip of the cataract.
MOBILIZATION
Russia ordered the mobilisation of her Southern armies, alleging that she could not stand by while a Slav nation was being crushed out of existence, despite the fact that it had made an abject submission for an unproved offence.[[9]]
Subsequently, on Friday, July 31, Russia—having, as she considered, reasons for believing that Germany was secretly mobilising her whole forces—proceeded to do likewise.[[10]]
Germany simultaneously declared 'a state of war' within her own territories, and a veil instantly fell upon all her internal proceedings. She demanded that Russia should cease her mobilisation, and as no answer which satisfied her was forthcoming, but only an interchange of telegrams between the two sovereigns—disingenuous on the one side and not unreasonably suspicious on the other—Germany declared war on Russia on Saturday, August 1.
On Saturday and Sunday, war on a grand scale being by this time certain, the chief interest centred in questions of neutrality. Germany enquired of France whether she would undertake to stand aside—knowing full well beforehand that the terms of the Dual Alliance compelled the Republic to lend assistance if Russia were attacked by more than one power. Sir Edward Grey enquired of France and Germany if they would undertake to respect the integrity of Belgium. France replied in the affirmative. Germany declined to commit herself, and this was rightly construed as a refusal.[[11]]
While this matter was still the subject of diplomatic discussion the German Army advanced into the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg, and was correctly reported as having entered Belgian territory near Liège and French territory near Cirey.
On the evening of Sunday, August 2, the German Government presented an ultimatum to Belgium[[12]] demanding free passage for its troops, thereby putting its intentions beyond all doubt.
On the same day Italy issued a declaration of neutrality, making it clear that, although a member of the Triple Alliance, she did not consider herself bound to support her allies in a war of aggression.[[13]]
Meanwhile Germany had been making enquiries as to the attitude of England, and, startled to discover that this country might not be willing tamely to submit to the violation of Belgium and invasion of France, proceeded to state, under cross-examination, the price she was prepared to pay, or at any rate to promise, for the sake of securing British neutrality.[[14]]
ENGLAND DECLARES WAR
On Tuesday, August 4, the British Ambassador at Berlin presented an ultimatum which demanded an assurance, before midnight, that the integrity of Belgium would not be violated. The answer was given informally at a much earlier hour by the bombardment of Liège; and shortly before midnight England declared war on Germany.[[15]]
Two days later Austria declared herself to be at war with Russia, and within a week from that date Great Britain and France issued a similar declaration against Austria.
[[1]] There is perhaps as much reason, certainly no more, for believing that an official clique at Belgrade plotted the Serajevo murders, as that an official clique at Vienna connived at them, by deliberately withdrawing police protection from the unfortunate and unpopular Archduke on the occasion of his visit to a notorious hotbed of sedition.
[[2]] Herr von Jagow "also admitted that the Servian Government could not swallow certain of the Austro-Hungarian demands.... He repeated very earnestly that, though he had been accused of knowing all the contents of that note, he had in fact no such knowledge."—Sir H. Rumbold at Berlin to Sir Edward Grey (White Paper, No. 18).
[[3]] "Although I am unable to verify it, I have private information that the German Ambassador (i.e. at Vienna) knew the text of the Austrian ultimatum to Servia before it was despatched and telegraphed it to the German Emperor. I know from the German Ambassador himself that he endorses every line of it."—British Ambassador at Vienna to Sir Edward Grey (White Paper, No. 95). (Cf. also White Book, Nos. 95 and 141; French Yellow Book, No. 87; Russian Orange Book, No. 41.)
"The German Ambassador (i.e. in London) read me a telegram from the German Foreign Office saying that his Government had not known beforehand, and had no more than other Powers to do with the stiff terms of the Austrian note to Servia."—Sir Edward Grey to the British Ambassador in Berlin (White Paper, No. 25). (Cf. also French Yellow Book, Nos. 17, 30, 36, 41, 57, and 94.)
[[4]] Last paragraph of Reply of Servian Government to Austro-Hungarian note.
[[5]] White Paper, Nos. 20 and 23.
[[6]] White Paper, No. 36.
[[7]] White Paper, Nos. 35, 42, and 52.
[[8]] White Paper, Nos. 43 and 71. Cf. also German White Book, Nos. 12 and 15.
[[9]] White Paper, No. 113; Russian Orange Book, No. 77; French Yellow Book, No. 95.
[[10]] These suspicions were well founded. German mobilisation began at least two days earlier (White Paper, No. 113; French Yellow Book, Nos. 60, 88, 89, and 106).
[[11]] White Paper, Nos. 114, 122, 123, and 125.
[[12]] Belgian Grey Book, No. 20; French Yellow Book, No. 141.
[[13]] White Paper, No. 152; French Yellow Book, No. 124.
[[14]] White Paper, Nos. 85 and 123.
[[15]] "I found the Chancellor very agitated. His Excellency at once began a harangue which lasted for about twenty minutes. He said that the step taken by His Majesty's Government was terrible to a degree: just for a word—'neutrality,' a word which in war time had so often been disregarded—just for a scrap of paper Great Britain was going to make war on a kindred nation, who desired nothing better than to be friends with her."—British Ambassador at Berlin to Sir Edward Grey (White Paper, No. 160).
CHAPTER III
WHO WANTED WAR?
Such is the chronological order of events; but on the face of it, it explains little of the underlying causes of this conflagration. Why with the single exception of Italy had all the great naval and military powers of Europe, together with several smaller nations, suddenly plunged into war? Which of the combatants wanted war? ... To the latter question the answer can be given at once and with certainty—save Germany and Austria no nation wanted war, and even Germany and Austria did not want this war.
DESIRE FOR PEACE
Whatever opinion we may entertain of the Servian character or of her policy in recent times, it is at all events certain that she did not desire war with Austria. That she submitted to the very depths of humiliation in order to avoid war cannot be doubted by any one who has read her reply to the demands put forward by Vienna. Only a few months since, she had emerged from two sanguinary wars—the first against Turkey and the second against Bulgaria—and although victory had crowned her arms in both of these contests, her losses in men and material had been very severe.
That Russia did not desire war was equally plain. She was still engaged in repairing the gigantic losses which she had sustained in her struggle with Japan. At least two years must elapse before her new fleet would be in a condition to take the sea, and it was generally understood that at least as long a period would be necessary, in order to carry through the scheme of reorganisation by which she hoped to place her army in a state of efficiency. Whatever might be the ultimate designs of Russia, it was altogether incredible that she would have sought to bring about a war, either at this time or in the near future.
Russia, like England, had nothing to gain by war. Her development was proceeding rapidly. For years to come her highest interest must be peace. A supreme provocation was necessary in order to make her draw the sword. Such a provocation had been given in 1909 when, ignoring the terms of the Treaty of Berlin, Austria had formally annexed the provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina. But at that time Russia's resources were not merely unprepared; they were utterly exhausted. Menaced simultaneously by Vienna and Berlin, she had been forced on that occasion to stand by, while her prestige in the Balkan peninsula suffered a blow which she was powerless to ward off. Now a further encroachment was threatened from the same quarters. A Serb power which looked to St. Petersburg[[1]] for protection was to be put under the heel of Austria.
Nor can any one believe that France wanted war. It is true that for a year, or rather more, after the Agadir episode[[2]] the spirit of France was perturbed. But no Foreign Office in the world—least of all that of Germany—was so ill-informed as to believe that the sporadic demonstrations, which occurred in the press and elsewhere, were caused by any eagerness for adventure or any ambition of conquest. They were due, as every calm observer was aware, to one thing and one thing only—the knowledge that the Republic had come to the very end of her human resources; that all her sons who were capable of bearing arms had already been enrolled in her army; that she could do nothing further to strengthen her defences against Germany, who up to that time, had taken for military training barely one half of her available male population, and who was now engaged in increasing her striking power both by land and sea. The cause of this restlessness in France was the fear that Germany was preparing an invincible superiority and would strike so soon as her weapon was forged. If so, would it not be better for France to strike at once, while she had still a fighting chance, and before she was hopelessly outnumbered? But this mood, the product of anxiety and suspense, which had been somewhat prevalent in irresponsible quarters during the autumn of 1912 and the early part of the following year, had passed away. Partly it wore itself out; partly popular interest was diverted to other objects of excitement.
France, during the twelve months preceding Midsummer 1914, had been singularly quiescent as regards foreign affairs. Her internal conditions absorbed attention. Various events had conspired to disturb public confidence in the fidelity of her rulers, and in the adequacy of their military preparations. The popular mood had been sobered, disquieted, and scandalised to such a point that war, so far from being sought after, was the thing of all others which France most wished to avoid.
THE CASE OF BELGIUM
It is unnecessary to waste words in establishing the aversion of Belgium from war. There was nothing which she could hope to gain by it in any event. Suffering and loss—how great suffering and loss even Belgium herself can hardly have foreseen—were inevitable to her civil population, as well as to her soldiers, whether the war went well or ill. Her territory lay in the direct way of the invaders, and was likely, as in times past, to become the 'cockpit of Europe.' She was asked to allow the free passage of the Germanic forces. She was promised restoration of her independence and integrity at the end of the war. But to grant this arrogant demand would have been to destroy her dynasty and wreck her institutions; for what King or Constitution could have withstood the popular contempt for a government which acquiesced in national degradation? And to believe the promise, was a thing only possible for simpletons; for what was such an assurance worth, seeing that, at the very moment of the offer, Germany was engaged in breaking her former undertaking, solemnly guaranteed and recorded, that the neutrality of Belgium should be respected? That the sympathies of Belgium would have been with France in any event cannot of course be doubted; for a French victory threatened no danger, whereas the success of German arms was a menace to her independence, and a prelude to vassalage or absorption in the Empire.
Neither the British people nor their Government wanted war. In the end they accepted it reluctantly, and only after most strenuous efforts had been made to prevent its occurrence. To the intelligent foreign observer, however unfriendly, who has a thorough understanding of British interests, ideas, and habits of mind this is self-evident. He does not need a White Paper to prove it to him.
It is clear that Austria wanted war—not this war certainly, but a snug little war with a troublesome little neighbour, as to the outcome of which, with the ring kept, there could be no possibility of doubt. She obviously hoped that indirectly, and as a sort of by-product of this convenient little war, she would secure a great victory of the diplomatic sort over her most powerful neighbour—a matter of infinitely more consequence to her than the ostensible object of her efforts.
The crushing of Servia would mean the humiliation of Russia, and would shake, for a second time within five years, the confidence of the Balkan peoples in the power of the Slav Empire to protect its kindred and co-religionists against the aggression of the Teutons and Magyars. Anything which would lower the credit of Russia in the Balkan peninsula would be a gain to Austria. To her more ambitious statesmen such an achievement might well seem to open the way for coveted expansions towards the Aegean Sea, which had been closed against her, to her great chagrin, by the Treaty of Bucharest.[[3]] To others, whose chief anxiety was to preserve peace in their own time, and to prevent the Austro-Hungarian State from splitting asunder, the repression of Servia seemed to promise security against the growing unrest and discontent of the vast Slav population which was included in the Empire.
AUSTRIAN ILL-FORTUNE