CHAPTER XIII
KING EDWARD’S UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO SET THE NEAR EAST ABLAZE
THE BOSNIAN CRISIS
The policy of Great Britain in the Near East has undergone frequent and apparently unaccountable modifications. At times England supported the Sultan, at others she was against him; she would one day preach the doctrine of the sanctity and inviolability of the Dardanelles treaties, and the next day she would herself send a fleet into the Dardanelles. The same Power which was full of enthusiasm for the integrity of the Ottoman Empire would later on, amidst plentiful groans and sighs, steal a piece of that Empire for itself. With a stentorian voice which could be heard over the whole world, the British Government denounced the “atrocities” in Armenia or Macedonia; and at the very same moment emissaries sent out from London, and notably the famous “Balkan Committee,” were busy, in Armenia or Macedonia or elsewhere, stirring up trouble and creating disturbances which caused the very “atrocities” in question to be perpetrated. We see England working hand-in-hand alternately with Russia and with Austria-Hungary. Where is the thread connecting the whole of British policy in the Near East during the last twenty-five years?
Sultan Abdul Hamid was, for British statesmen, the incorporation of everything bad and detestable. They pretended to feel disgusted even when pronouncing his name. He had failed to carry out the reforms which he promised after the Russo-Turkish war; he was an “oppressor,” he allowed “atrocities” to be committed in Armenia and Macedonia. The English even declared, with an expression of unutterable disgust, that Abdul Hamid occasionally caused “undesirable” persons to be done away with. In reality, this intensely virtuous indignation was due chiefly to the knowledge that Abdul Hamid was an extremely clever politician and diplomatist, and to the fact that he would not consent to renounce his claims to Egypt. Abdul Hamid had the most disagreeable habit of raising the Egyptian question from time to time, and precisely at the very moment when it was least convenient for the British Government. He had the further extremely disagreeable habit of keeping up, with the utmost skill, a game of ball between the Great Powers, in which the ball was never definitely caught and always rebounced. The Sultan used to play off the one against the other, and in his able hands Turkey’s chronic “sickness” became a valuable diplomatic asset. England’s aim was, of course, to bring the Turkish Empire entirely under British influence, and then to deal with its various component parts according as circumstances required. The first object of British statesmen was to combat Russia’s efforts to obtain possession of Constantinople and the Dardanelles. In order to attain this object, it was necessary to treat the Porte alternately as a friend and as an adversary. Albeit, mistress of the oceans and of the Mediterranean, Great Britain was, until the conclusion of the Entente Cordiale, seriously uneasy about Russia’s desire to obtain, in conjunction with France, a solution—if need be by force of arms—of the Dardanelles question.
Shortly after the accession of the Emperor William II to the throne, an entirely new factor in the politics of the Near East arose. The first journey of the German Emperor to Constantinople attracted the attention of Europe. This journey was displeasing to Russia, and consequently gave satisfaction to England. The German Government declared that its friendship with Turkey aimed exclusively at the obtention of economic advantages, and that it entertained no political ambitions whatsoever. The first railroad concessions to German companies in Turkey followed, and formed the beginning of the future great Bagdad undertaking. Ever since that first visit of the German Emperor to Constantinople, the friendship between Germany and Turkey has continued almost without interruption. The explanation is to be found in the simple fact that the German Empire is the only Power which did not wish to increase its influence or its possessions at the expense of the sovereignty of the Sultan, of the financial and economic strength of the Ottoman Empire, and of the latter’s territorial integrity.
It is evident that England’s traditional policy in the Near East could not but make her regard the friendly and confidential relations between Germany and Turkey with the greatest dissatisfaction. It was, in the first place, an insult to England that the new Power Germany should venture to enter the ranks of the nations which were interested in Turkey. England was all the more uneasy, because her statesmen clearly recognised that Germany’s policy of maintaining and strengthening Turkey was not a mere pretext, but honest truth. England did not want a strong Turkey, and did not dream of tolerating one. The stronger Turkey became, the less could Egypt be relied on—and the more intimate, also, must become the connection between Constantinople and the Islamitic world. Precisely this connection appeared to England, who rules over so many millions of Mussulmans, as a grave danger for her in India, Central Asia, and Africa. And we know that British statesmen are extraordinarily far-sighted in all matters where danger of any sort is to be detected.
In addition to all this there remained the main source, as usual, of British anxiety: the market. It was disgraceful and unheard-of, an insult and an unfriendly act, that German industry should dare to penetrate ever more and more into the Ottoman Empire. British industry had already a hard struggle to maintain itself here against the French and the Austro-Hungarians. And now the Germans came on the scene! England’s uneasiness was increased by the projected German railroads; and ever since the beginning of the new century she did all she could during ten years, in conjunction with France and Russia, to hinder the construction of the Bagdad line. The Germans encountered here a fundamental principle of British policy; and all such principles, as we have often shown, have their roots in British trade. England has invariably been the most decided adversary of all great railroad undertakings—in so far as they were not in British hands or under British control. British statesmen have always been well aware of the fact that every important railroad which is withdrawn from British control, diminishes British sea power and British maritime trade. The mistress of the seas controlled all the waterways of the world, which she could shut or open as she pleased. The “world’s carrier” had at her disposal a trading fleet vastly superior to all others, an immense quantity of harbors owned by herself, to say nothing of all the other harbors in the whole world. Through these harbors British goods find their way into the markets all over the globe; each one of such harbors constitutes a basis for the conquest of new markets. As far as railroads were of use in assisting British goods to conquer the markets, they were naturally welcomed by Great Britain as instruments of civilisation and progress, and as preparing the way for international fraternity. But whenever it so happened that a railroad did not start from a harbor—that is to say whenever it served to open up directly a Continental market for a Continental State—British indignation knew no bounds; for money was now being earned, and the English had no share in the profits. Thus was England deeply incensed by the construction of the Siberian railroad, and still more so by the prolongation of the latter through Manchuria to Port Arthur. As for the German plan of a Bagdad railroad, i. e. of a line connecting Constantinople (or, if you will, Berlin) with the Persian Gulf, it was in the eyes of the English a direct challenge. It was also an unheard-of insolence, and an “unfriendly act” on the part of the German Government.
The time-honored antagonism of England and Russia in the Near East was bridged over by the Triple Entente. The latter had more than one basis. On the one hand, there was England’s hatred, and the coalition which that hatred had forged against Germany; on the other hand, there was Russia’s detestation of Austria, and her traditional need of expansion towards Constantinople and the Dardanelles. In addition to these factors there came the doctrine of Panslavism, and this doctrine proved a most useful auxiliary of the above-mentioned “expansive tendencies” of the Russian Government; last but not least came the “guardianship” of all the Balkan peoples, which Russia regarded as a part of her historical mission. British policy had succeeded in checking Russia by means of the Japanese War, and of the conventions concerning Persia and Central Asia; with rare skill had England then managed to concentrate the entire expansive activity of Russia in the Near East. England was here in need of the Russian army. Russia, whom we may well call, as far as Oriental politics are concerned, the hereditary enemy of England, was now employed by the London Cabinet as a battering-ram against Germany and Austria-Hungary.
During many years Russia and Austria-Hungary had maintained a compromise in the Balkans, whereby the solution of the thorny questions at issue was postponed. The same remark applies to the relations between Austria-Hungary and Italy. The latter country’s interest in the Balkans had up till now been limited, albeit France, after her reconciliation with Italy, steadily endeavored to distract Italy’s attention from Tripoli and Tunis, and to turn it towards Albania. On the other hand, the marriage of the King of Italy with a Montenegrin Princess had ipso facto drawn Italy and Russia nearer each other, for the princely House of Montenegro is connected by marriage with the Russian imperial Family. The ancient quarrels between Vienna and Rome, and especially the ever-present hatred of the Irredentists, furnished England likewise with admirable instruments for her “policy of sowing dissension.” Finally did Turkey herself become an aim—and an important aim—of Italian policy.
The center-points of the Young Turk movement, of the political importance of which Germany took no notice until a very late period, and which she probably underestimated up till the last minute—the center-points of this movement were in Paris and London. The Young Turks received in these cities their political education, and to a large extent also the resources necessary for their propaganda. The latter had as its object the introduction of more liberal conditions into the Turkish Empire. A conditio sine qua non of this introduction was the putting aside of Abdul Hamid. England had always intensely hated Abdul Hamid, especially since he had become a friend of the German Emperor. The London Cabinet was of opinion that the cordial relations between Germany and Turkey were due exclusively to Abdul Hamid, and that the personal friendship between the two Sovereigns had alone rendered possible the railroad and other concessions to Germany. The aim of British policy was, consequently, to get rid of Abdul Hamid as soon as possible. The Balkan Committee and other British emissaries set about stirring up dissatisfaction in the Turkish Empire against him, wherever it was possible to do so; no expenditure was too great for them; it must be admitted that, in such cases, England and her agents are never “stingy” as regards money.
In 1905 Great Britain succeeded, under King Edward’s guidance, in obtaining the abrogation of the Mürzsteg Convention which Austria-Hungary and Russia had concluded two years previously. In its place an agreement between the six European Powers was drawn up. England, on this occasion, assumed the leadership; the Island was able to dictate to the Continent in a purely Continental matter. A remarkable phenomenon, and a proof of the ever-growing world-power of England!
England’s new policy in the Balkans was labelled “Macedonian Reforms.” The London Cabinet took the matter up as accredited spokesman; and France, Russia, and Italy followed in the track of the British Ministers. Since 1903 King Edward went every year to Vienna or Ischl, in order to visit Emperor Francis Joseph, and to develop the “historical friendship” between Austria-Hungary and England. This “historical friendship” had invariably consisted in the fact that Austrian and Hungarian statesmen were weak and shortsighted enough to allow their countries to be misused by England for her own purposes. King Edward’s aim, at the time of which we are treating, was to induce Austria-Hungary to let herself be taken in tow by England in the Balkans. If he had succeeded in this, it was inevitable that dissension should break out between Vienna and Berlin. This was what King Edward intended; for in this way, not only would Germany’s Oriental policy have been undermined, but the position of the German Empire in Europe would have been weakened. And it should be remembered that Great Britain thus changed her policy in the Near East at the very moment of the European tension due to Morocco, and immediately after the Russo-Japanese War.
In 1908 the Austro-Hungarian Minister for Foreign Affairs, Baron Aehrenthal, published the decision of the Imperial and Royal Government to build a railroad through the Sandjak of Novi-Bazar. The object of this railroad was to establish direct communication between Bosnia and Salonica, and the Treaty of Berlin of 1878 gave Austria-Hungary the right to build it. None the less did the announcement of her intentions create a storm of indignation in Europe. The first peals of thunder came from the direction of Great Britain. It is true that the treaty rights of Austria-Hungary could not be denied either in London or Paris or St. Petersburg; but Austria’s action was declared incompatible with the spirit underlying all disinterested international co-operation. The intention was attributed to Austria of utilising her policy of economic expansion towards the Ægean Sea as a sort of “forerunner” for a policy of political expansion, which should bring her eventually to Salonica. In reality the storm in question was directed against Germany rather than against Austria-Hungary. It was hoped to intimidate the latter, and by means of this intimidation to separate her from Germany. The English Press declared that the evident intention was to bring the Balkan Peninsula and the whole of the Near East under Germanic hegemony. The “Servian Question,” which was later on to be predominant, appeared on the scene; and under England’s leadership, Russia, France, and Italy all supported Servia when she declared that her vital interests would be most seriously endangered by the projected railroad. The Panserb programme included the annexation of the Sandjak of Novi-Bazar by Servia; and the construction of an Austrian railroad through it would have therefore constituted a grave impediment to the realisation of such aims.
The wholly unexpected attitude of England caused profound surprise in Austria-Hungary, who felt herself deeply injured thereby. The fact was that she had never, up till now, realised the real motives of British policy. Austria was proud of her ancient friendly relations with Great Britain; she was conscious of having in former times rendered the latter appreciable services; and, ever since the formation of the anti-German coalition, her statesmen and press had been fond of insisting on the fact that no dissensions existed, or were even conceivable, between the two Powers. Ever since the beginning of the Anglo-German estrangement, the Austro-Hungarian Government had always taken particular care to give repeated public expression to the value which it attached to the maintenance of these friendly relations. Then came also the annual visits of King Edward to Emperor Francis Joseph. In short, Austrian public opinion was sincerely surprised, not to say amazed, when Great Britain, in her virtuous indignation, declared Baron Aehrenthal’s railroad scheme to be the greatest infamy of the century. Italy joined the chorus, or rather Great Britain persuaded her to join it. The Italian press never tired of repeating that Italian trade in the Balkans would be seriously damaged after the completion of the Austrian railroad, and that Italy could not permit of Austria-Hungary marching on Salonica. The bitterness created in Italy was one of the valuable successes d’à côté achieved by the British campaign.
King Edward and his Ministers continued energetically and perseveringly their propaganda in the Balkans, whereby they defended especially the “Programme of Macedonian Reform.” King Edward’s celebrated visit to Reval, his meeting with Czar Nicholas, the toasts exchanged, and the semi-official comments in the press (July 19th, 1908), brought the Anglo-Russian negotiations to a conclusion, and constituted so to speak the apogée of the English sovereign’s diplomatic triumph. The usual diplomatic assurances to the effect that nothing had been discussed at Reval which was in any way contrary to German interests, could not do away with the impression that King Edward’s coalition against the German Empire was now complete. The “Macedonian Question” was considered its best instrument; for the carrying out of the programme of Macedonian Reform would have implied a violation of the Turkish Empire absolutely incompatible with the latter’s sovereignty and integrity. The German Empire must, in this way, have been placed before the question as to whether it would abandon Turkey to her fate or not; this question, as the English intended, necessarily led up to the further one: shall we give way or shall we go to war? Austria-Hungary was in the same manner to be placed before a similar dilemma: should she, under such circumstances, still remain by the side of Germany, or should she, in exchange perhaps for compensations, go over to the other side? As we see, quite a lot of prospects and possibilities were opened up to British statesmen; and these possibilities, if cleverly made use of, might lead to the weakening—or, who knows, the destruction—of Germany.
But now something unexpected happened: the Revolution in Turkey. The “Macedonian Reform Scheme” of England, Russia, France, and Italy, had terribly frightened the Turks. Up till now Russia and England had, owing to the divergency of their aims, held each other in check; and it was to this rivalry that Turkey owed the continuation of her existence. The Reval meeting drove home the fact that the two ancient adversaries had come to an understanding in Oriental questions; and this understanding signified the doom of the Turkish Empire. The Young Turks took the European Powers at their word; Abdul Hamid having as yet failed to take “Macedonian Reform” seriously in hand, was deposed; the new rulers drew up a constitution, and inscribed on their banner the maintenance of the territorial integrity of the Empire, and also the equality of all nations and religious bodies therein. In this way was the bottom taken out of the Reval programme. Sir Edward Grey declared himself “satisfied with the turn that matters had taken,” and it was decided to give the Young Turks time. England expected the deposition of Abdul Hamid to entail the collapse of the friendship between Germany and Turkey, and at once changed her outward attitude towards the latter. The change, as usual, was very skilfully explained as being a “matter of principle”: liberty-loving England, it was said, could not possibly be a friend of the tyrannical and reactionary government of Abdul Hamid; but all the more sincere, therefore, was her joy on witnessing the birth of the new liberal and progressive and humanitarian Ottoman Empire, to which she extended a cordial and hearty welcome. In this way did the British Government think to be able to lift Germany from out of the saddle in Constantinople. It is, unfortunately, not possible to analyse here in detail the policy of England in the Near East since the accession to the throne of Edward VII. But that policy offers, on a small scale, truly typical examples of the skill with which British statesmanship is able to make use even of totally contradictory events in the pursuit of one fundamental aim, which is never lost sight of for a minute. England’s calculations after the Young Turk Revolution appeared at first to be successful; and, for a time, she was in fact more popular in Constantinople than Germany. This was only natural, since the Young Turks were continually told that Germany was Abdul Hamid’s friend and Young Turkey’s enemy—and that she had never really helped Turkey, but had only acted from a purely egotistical standpoint. Only little by little did German diplomacy succeed in again consolidating Germany’s position; and some time elapsed before the Young Turk politicians understood that Germany was the only Power whose Oriental policy was compatible with the interests of the Turkish Empire.
In the autumn of 1908 Austria-Hungary saw herself obliged to formally annex the two provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina, which she had occupied for the past thirty years. It was a necessary step; for the Panserb propaganda threatened to revolutionise Bosnia; and, on the other hand, the Young Turk programme was a national one, and claimed Bosnia and Herzegovina as ancient Turkish provinces inhabited by numerous Mussulmans. Austria-Hungary had either to annex the territories in question, or else to lose them.
This step came as a surprise to England—all the more so, as King Edward had visited Emperor Francis Joseph at Ischl only six weeks before the annexation, and had heard nothing about the proposed measure. The astonishment and fury was so great in London, that even King Edward forgot himself, and dropped his mask. The Austro-Hungarian Ambassador in London, Count Mensdorf, was entrusted with the duty of communicating the annexation to King Edward, together with an autograph letter from his Sovereign. He was received in a most discourteous and unfriendly manner, and himself declared: “I was chased away.” As we have already said, the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina did not change in any way the existing state of affairs in the Balkans; it only, as it were, put the seal on a document that had been drawn up thirty years previously. None the less did the whole of Europe, at Great Britain’s instigation, wax indignant at Austria-Hungary’s so-called “breach of faith.” In England, and also in France and Russia, the view was expressed that the German Empire was the real moving spirit in the whole business, and that Austria-Hungary had only been led astray. There ensued the celebrated Bosnian crisis, of which, at first sight, Servia appeared to be the center-point. Servia complained loudly about the destruction of her hopes and aspirations, claimed compensations and access to the Adriatic, placed her army on a war footing, and declared urbi et orbi that she would not surrender to Austria. In reality, England was the center-point and the agent provocateur of the whole Bosnian crisis. The British Government cared nothing for the aspirations of Servia, it cared not about Bosnia, nor about Russia, nor about Italy; it had solely in view the humiliation of Germany and Austria-Hungary, and the destruction of their alliance. It entertained the hope of seeing Germany abandon her ally. Had this happened, it would have been easy to draw Austria-Hungary over to the Triple Entente after the crisis; in this way the whole of Germany’s Oriental policy, together with the Bagdad railroad and other concessions, would have come to an end. King Edward expected, therefore, to deal a decisive blow by means of the “Bosnian crisis” which he had organised. The bullet missed its mark, seeing that Germany remained faithful to Austria-Hungary, and adopted the latter’s standpoint. Russia and France, on the other hand, were not prepared, in view of the resolute attitude of the Central Powers, to push matters to a head. A skilful diplomatic manœuvre of Prince Bülow made it easier for the Russian Government to accept the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. The crisis was thus brought to an end. Austria-Hungary gained in reality nothing, for she had only preserved herself from otherwise certain injury. Simultaneously with the proclamation of the annexation, the Austro-Hungarian Government gave back the Sandjak of Novi-Bazar to Turkey. But the latter did not, in reality, gain anything by this either. Russia neither gained nor lost anything; and Servia’s wishes were not realised. The only country which gained anything was England, for owing to the re-cession of the Sandjak to Turkey, the Austrian railroad plan of which we have already spoken was definitely knocked on the head. The English had no longer to fear the competition of such an international trading route.
England could, in general, be more satisfied with the European situation resulting from the Bosnian crisis, than is generally supposed. Of course, King Edward’s plan to destroy the Austro-German alliance, to humiliate these two Powers, and to excite France and Russia against them, had failed. Why? Because neither France nor Russia were ready, seeing that both had been taken by surprise. Neither was England ready. The London Cabinet had reckoned with a slower development of affairs in the Balkans, and it had not foreseen either the Turkish Revolution or the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Despite their unpreparedness, the British statesmen had put all the wheels of their diplomatic machinery into movement against the German Empire and her ally.
France and Russia had been compelled to admit that they were not ready. This admission, coupled with their diplomatic defeat, was bound to wound both Powers severely in their national pride and in their prestige. This is what Great Britain secretly desired. The British calculation, that henceforth France and Russia would proceed to apply themselves steadily and systematically to the task of developing their military strength, was correct. British policy had also succeeded in making Russia more anxious than ever to rehabilitate herself in the eyes of the Balkan people; it had succeeded in inspiring Servia with the desire of vengeance, not only against Austria-Hungary, but also against Turkey; and the work of exciting Italy against Austria had progressed satisfactorily.