The Vampire of the Continent by Graf E. Reventlow - HTML preview

CHAPTER XIV
 THE CATASTROPHE IS MORE CAREFULLY PREPARED
 1909–1914

The good Germans breathed more freely, and rejoiced at the political détente. Their astonishment was all the greater when, at the end of 1908 and the beginning of 1909, a terrible cry arose at the other side of the North Sea about an appalling “German peril.” It was stated that the fleet of German Dreadnoughts was in a fair way to out-rivalling that of Great Britain. The cunning tricks of the German Government, and especially of Admiral von Tirpitz, had succeeded in secretly hastening the construction of the German navy. We have already mentioned, in a previous chapter, how skilfully the British Government made use of these lies for the purpose of hoodwinking the Colonies and the United States. The whole story was a falsehood from beginning to end, for there could be no question of the construction of the German fleet being “secretly hastened”; and the British Government knew this perfectly well. The German Government furnished, through its diplomatic representatives and also publicly through the press, more than enough explanations showing that the pretended English reckonings about the number of German battleships were wholly wrong. In the same “year of panic,” 1908–09, a conference of the leading maritime nations was held in London, at the invitation of the British Government. The result of this Conference was the publication of the “London Declaration concerning Maritime Law,” which was subsequently so much commented upon. Its origin was as follows: During the Conference at The Hague in 1907, the leading maritime nations had declared themselves in agreement with the German proposal to institute a permanent international Court of Prizes. It was intended to convert the latter, in future maritime wars, into a Court of Appeal which should be above all the national Prize Courts. But there was no international law corresponding to the proposed international institution. It was the task of the London Conference to create this international law, and it did so in the form of the London Declaration above mentioned. The avowed object of the latter was to draw up provisions for the protection of neutral shipping in time of war. And, as a matter of fact, the contents of the Declaration were such as to furnish, if not a perfect, at all events a very acceptable basis on which the safety and the rights of neutral shipping could be guaranteed. The British Government instructed its delegates to sign the Declaration, just as in 1907 they had signed the Hague Convention concerning the International Prize Court. But no ratification of either agreement ever took place. The British Government, albeit pretending that it was in favor of the ratification, engineered behind the scenes a violent agitation against the London Declaration, and against the establishment of an International Court of Prizes. This agitation lasted several years. The agitators told the credulous and trembling islanders that the whole thing was just simply a base German intrigue. The German Government had succeeded, according to them, in outwitting harmless British statesmen and naval officers in The Hague and in London. The International Court of Prizes and the London Declaration signified nothing else but “Sea Law made in Germany”; it was intended, in the case of an Anglo-German war, to deprive England of all the means which she possessed for defending her own maritime trade, and to prevent her applying in future those time-honored methods which, in the wars of former centuries, had produced such brilliant results. The British nation was naturally most indignant at this unheard-of German infamy; and the consequence was that the House of Lords, by rejecting a Bill which provided that the existing British Prize Law should be modified, frustrated the ratification of the Hague Convention and also of the London Declaration. When war broke out in 1914 the Declaration did not, therefore, possess international validity; but simple-minded persons in Germany and in the neutral countries firmly believed that England would act according to the provisions of the Declaration, since the latter was the fruit of an unanimous agreement among all the maritime nations which took part in the Conference.

Ever since 1909, it is true, British admirals and statesmen had calmly and coldly proclaimed that it was quite immaterial whether the Declaration were ratified or not, for the moment war broke out “it would be torn into rags and thrown into the sea.” The history of the war up to date has proved that the British admirals were well informed. It is true that the rank of an admiral would not have been necessary for that; for it is an old habit of British Governments to announce in the most pathetical tone of voice their readiness to enter into negotiations, and to sign conventions, of this sort. England was always enthusiastic about right and justice in maritime warfare—provided she could by these means bind the hands of other nations without committing herself to anything. We have already shown, in a previous chapter, that England pretended at first to accept the standpoint of the Armed Neutrality League in 1780, and that she afterwards rejected all the desiderata of the League with a sneer. In 1856, in the celebrated Declaration of Paris, Great Britain accepted certain principles to which British naval commanders had not paid the slightest attention during the Crimean War a year or two earlier. The British Admiralty renounced, on the same occasion, its claim to the right of capture—for the times, and the modified conditions of warfare, made it appear unsuitable to raise such a claim. But the Declaration of Paris has never been ratified either, and the British Government did not hesitate for one minute, after war had broken out in 1914, in “tearing it into rags and throwing it into the sea.” Notably were the provisions regarding the freedom of cargoes under neutral flag, and those regarding the right of blockade, trampled under foot.

“International Maritime Law”: for the pirates who rule the seas, these words have never meant anything else than unlimited freedom for themselves. The English were always glad to see other nations bind themselves hand and foot; with sincere satisfaction did they watch the spectacle of the European nations listening with pious credulity to English speeches about international civilisation and the protection of neutral countries; and when learned professors wrote ponderous volumes on the subject of “the progress and development of maritime law in time of war,” the Islanders chuckled with delight. The stupidity of the Continental nations has been as incurable in this case, as in all other cases where the question of the relations between the sacred Island and its European victims has arisen. Great Britain has always been a friend of international parleys, for they have invariably proved a useful instrument for her. At the moment when the Hague Conference of 1907 was being prepared, the British Government endeavored to have a discussion on “the reduction of armaments” inserted in the programme. The object was a double one: firstly, to prevent by means of an international agreement the German fleet from becoming inconveniently strong; secondly, to permit in this way of the British navy maintaining its (at that time crushing) superiority with the least possible expense. King Edward knew that he would have his European coalition unanimously on the side of England. Had the German Government not accepted the decision of the Conference, the German Empire would have been, of course, stamped as the unscrupulous and dangerous disturber of the world’s peace. Prince Bülow saw the trap that was being laid, and declared beforehand that Germany would take no part in a debate of this kind. Thus the cunning plan failed, and the British Premier, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, denied indignantly that the London Cabinet had ever intended setting a trap at all. During the following years, British Ministers often attempted to raise the question of a limitation of armaments, and to induce Germany to fall in with their wishes—sometimes by flattery, sometimes by veiled menaces.

The period under review was, in fact, characterised as a whole by England’s efforts to check the growth of the German navy by means different to those hitherto adopted. The aim remained the same: namely, to weaken and intimidate Germany. “First humiliate, then destroy”: this continued to be the motto. There were many Germans, and amongst them several political men, who did not understand this, who believed in the possibility of Anglo-German friendship, and who understood not the lessons taught by the history of Great Britain. It was about 1909 that the beautiful phrase came into fashion, which we used to hear right up till the outbreak of war: namely, that “Great Britain must and will recognise us as possessing equal rights with herself in Europe and in the whole world.” Then, it was declared, the peace of the world would be definitely assured, and the German and the British merchant would work peacefully together; the two nations, related to each other by ties of blood, would henceforth march together along the path of progress towards the conquest of international solidarity. The English even hinted that, in this rosy future, the customs duties would also be suppressed, for they were a hindrance to the intimacy of the two nations. The enormous expenditure on armaments would be reduced to a minimum, and the gigantic sums thus saved would be employed in order to develop the peaceful work of civilisation, instead of being sacrificed to the naval Moloch. He who refused to believe in this message of great joy was denounced, between 1910 and 1914, as a narrow-minded jingo who, in opposition to the will of “the immense majority of the German people,” desired to bring about a war between the two “cousins.” It was a period which we to-day recall to mind without any pride—a period of self-deception and dangerous illusions on the part of a very large section of the German public. This self-deception was due, in the first place, to the German habit of believing that which it is agreeable to believe; and, in the second place, to a curious misconception concerning the character of the British and the essence of their Empire. When has England, in the whole course of her history, ever recognised a strong and prosperous European maritime nation as possessing equal rights with herself? Never! But, it was argued in Germany, that was in the old times of violence and darkness. Those times were now gone; and England now knew as well as, if not better than, any other nation, that the blessings of peace were much superior even to the advantages reaped from a victorious war. In addition to this, Germany was England’s best client, and the British merchant was far too businesslike to wish to lose such a client by weakening or destroying him. Then we must not forget the international ties which bind the modern nations so closely to each other. And finally—pièce de résistance—the “common ideals of humanity”! Who could forget them? A few months before war broke out, the German Ambassador in London, Prince Lichnowsky, publicly declared that “nations” and “national ideals” were but stepping-stones leading up to the ultimate ideal of “humanity.” So intimately was this diplomatist then convinced of the existence of Anglo-German harmony!

During the last 350 years England has never changed her political and economic aims and methods. Neither the British Empire nor the British nation can be understood unless we know their history. The statesman or diplomatist who does not know or does not understand this history, cannot perceive and cannot understand the unchangeable aim which British policy unswervingly pursues. He must, therefore, infallibly be led astray.

The last alarm was given by the Morocco crisis of 1911. The fundamental reasons underlying this crisis have been, in general, misunderstood in Germany. It is necessary, therefore, that we should briefly dwell on them here. The motive which prompted the German Government to send the Panther to Agadir was not the inauguration of a new Moroccan policy, but simply the liquidation of the old one. Favored by mistakes previously committed by Germany, French expansion in Morocco could no longer be checked by an appeal to existing treaties; the German Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter, feared that Germany would one day find herself in a position in which she could no longer claim anything; he therefore decided to have the Panther sent to Agadir in order to compel France to enter into a discussion with the German Government. The latter—we must insist on the fact—intended from the beginning to leave Morocco entirely to France, but desired compensations. As to whether the Agadir demonstration was a well-chosen one, or as to whether the Franco-German negotiations were always conducted as they should have been, this is another question, which we cannot discuss here. However that may be, France proved willing to enter into a discussion; and the negotiations would in all probability have been satisfactorily concluded within a very short time, if England had not suddenly interfered. On the 1st of July, 1911, the Panther appeared in front of Agadir. On July 21st the English Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Lloyd-George, made, after a Cabinet Council had previously been held, a speech at the Mansion House in London. The most important passage of the speech, which was written, was as follows:—

“The potent influence (of England) has many a time been in the past, and may yet be in the future, invaluable to the cause of human liberty. It has more than once in the past redeemed continental nations—who are sometimes too apt to forget that service—from overwhelming disaster and even from national extinction. I would make great sacrifices to preserve peace, I conceive that nothing would justify a disturbance of international goodwill except questions of the gravest national moment. But if a situation were to be forced upon us in which peace would only be preserved by the surrender of the great and beneficent position Britain has won by centuries of heroism and achievement, by allowing Britain to be treated where her interests are vitally affected as if she were of no account in the Cabinet of nations, then I say emphatically that peace at that price would be a humiliation intolerable for a great country like ours to endure.”

Four years separate us from the time when these words were spoken, and we can now judge them with impartiality. The speech, made by Mr. Lloyd-George on behalf of his colleagues in the Cabinet, shows us with unusual clearness the British conception of the part played by England in the history of Europe. We have tried, in the course of this book, to give the reader a bird’s-eye view of some centuries of that history; England, without one single exception, has been found to be the Vampire of Europe. Her economic policy, her political policy, her wars, have invariably had but a single aim: to drain the riches and the life-blood of the Continental nations. In order to do this, she has systematically stirred them up against each other.—But Mr. Lloyd-George, with true English impertinence, speaks about the “invaluable services” rendered by Great Britain to the cause of Continental freedom; he even dares to talk to Europe about “centuries of heroism and achievement,” when the sole object of his country has always been piracy and theft under every conceivable form.

The negotiations between France and Germany in 1911 did not concern England in the least, for they did not touch upon anything belonging to her. Their object was Morocco, which England had long since conceded to France, and also French colonies in Africa. The British statesmen knew perfectly well, however much they may have denied it, that Germany did not intend acquiring anything in Morocco. They knew just as well that Germany only desired to put an end, once and for all, to the friction between herself and France arising from out of the Morocco question. But this was precisely what England could not tolerate. For that reason the passions of the French people were kindled, during the negotiations, by the most idiotic lies manufactured in London. For that reason England interfered with the negotiations, and screamed about the German Empire intending to attack France. All other pretexts and phrases were so many lies, or attempts to conceal the truth. The Moroccan question in itself had only fifth-rate importance for England. But that the two great Continental nations should negotiate together without England, or conclude a treaty without the latter’s authorisation: this is what was incompatible with England’s century-old traditions. Therefore did British statesmen decide to intervene rapidly and resolutely; and, as is usual in such cases, to utter threats of war. French newspapers in English pay denounced imaginary acts of treason; and the Premier, M. Joseph Caillaux, who was inclined to draw up with Germany an Agreement satisfactory to both parties, was got rid of. The lies spread regarding all sorts of German designs on Morocco and on France, were of English origin. The London Cabinet feared that the great European coalition against Germany might be broken up by a Franco-German understanding. The latter had consequently to be prevented at all costs, and this result was obtained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He who, in those days, was so foolish as to lack confidence, was always reminded of the Anglo-German negotiations concerning Central Africa and the railroads of Asia Minor. Early in 1914 came the further negotiations concerning petroleum springs in Persia. To-day it is not yet possible to discuss these matters freely and openly, but this much can be said: the Anglo-German negotiations in question were, partly at any rate, means whereby the attention of the Germans might be withdrawn from the systematic and c