CHAPTER IV THE PENALTY OF NEGLIGENCE

The East has been drawn into the circle of this war as well as the West, the New World as well as the Old; nor can any man feel certain, or even hopeful, that the conflagration will be content to burn itself out where it is now raging, and will not spread across further boundaries.... It is therefore no matter of surprise that people should be asking themselves—"Of what nature is this war? Is it one of those calamities, like earthquake or tempest, drought or flood, which lawyers describe as 'the act of God'? Or is it a thing which, having been conceived and deliberately projected by the wit of man, could have been averted by human courage and judgment? Was this war, or was it not, inevitable?" ... To which it may be answered, that no war is inevitable until it occurs; and then every war is apt to make pretensions to that character.

In old times it was the Fates, superior even to Zeus, who decreed wars. In later days wars were regarded as the will of God. And to-day professional interpreters of events are as ready as ever with explanations why this war was, in the nature of things, unavoidable. Whether the prevailing priesthood wears white robes and fillets, or rich vestments, or {37} cassocks and Geneva bands, or the severer modern garb of the professor or politician, it appears to be equally prone to dogmatic blasphemy. There is no proof that this war was pre-ordained either by a Christian God or by the laws of Pagan Nature.

WAS WAR INEVITABLE?

One may doubt if any war is inevitable. If statesmen can gain time the chances are that they will gain peace. This was the view of public opinion throughout the British Empire down to July 1914. It was in a special sense the view of the Liberal party; and their view was endorsed, if not by the whole body of unionists, at any rate by their leader, in terms which admitted of no misunderstanding.[1] It is also the point of view from which this book is written.... This war was not inevitable; it could have been avoided, but on one condition—if England had been prepared.

England was not prepared either morally or materially. Her rulers had left her in the dark as to the dangers which surrounded her. They had neglected to make clear to her—probably even to themselves—the essential principles of British policy, and the sacrifices which it entailed. They had failed to provide armaments to correspond with this policy. When the crisis arose their hands were tied. They had to sit down hurriedly, and decipher their policy, and find out what it meant. Still more hurriedly they had to get it approved, not merely by their fellow-countrymen, but by their own colleagues—a work, if rumour[2] speaks truly, of {38} considerable difficulty. Then they found that one of the main supports was wanting; and they had to set to work frantically to make an army adequate to their needs.

But it was too late. By this time their policy had fallen about their ears in ruins. For their policy was the neutrality of Belgium, and that was already violated. Their policy was the defence of France, and invasion had begun. Their policy was peace, and peace was broken. The nation which would enjoy peace must be strong enough to enforce peace.


The moods of nations pass like clouds, only more slowly. They bank up filled with menace; we look again and are surprised to find that they have melted away as silently and swiftly as they came. One does not need to be very old to recall various wars, deemed at one time or another to be inevitable, which never occurred. In the 'sixties' war with the second Empire was judged to be inevitable; and along our coasts dismantled forts remain to this day as monuments of our fathers' firm belief in the imminence of an invasion. In the 'seventies,' and indeed until we had entered the present century, war with Russia was regarded as inevitable by a large number of well-informed people; and for a part of this period war with the French Republic was judged to be no less so. Fortune on the whole was favourable. Circumstances changed. The sense of a common danger healed old antagonisms. Causes of chronic irritation disappeared of themselves, or were removed by diplomatic surgery. And with the disappearance of these inflammatory centres, misunderstandings, prejudices, and suspicions began to vanish also. {39} Gradually it became clear, that what had been mistaken on both sides for destiny was nothing more inexorable than a fit of temper, or a conflict of business interests not incapable of adjustment. And in a sense the German menace was less formidable than any of these others, for the reason that it was a fit of temper on one side only—a fit of temper, or megalomania. We became fully conscious of the German mood only after the end of the South African War, when its persistence showed clearly that it arose, not from any sympathy with the Dutch, but from some internal cause. When this cause was explained to us it seemed so inadequate, so absurd, so unreal, so contrary to the facts, that only a small fraction of our nation ever succeeded in believing that it actually existed. We had been taught by Carlyle, that while the verities draw immortal life from the facts to which they correspond, the falsities have but a phenomenal existence, and a brief influence over the minds of men. Consequently the greater part of the British people troubled their heads very little about this matter, never thought things would come to a crisis, or lead to serious mischief; but trusted always that, in due time, the ridiculous illusions of our neighbours would vanish and die of their own inanity.

GERMAN JEALOUSY

We listened with an equal wonder and weariness to German complaints that we were jealous of her trade and bent on strangling it; that we grudged her colonial expansion, and were intriguing all the world over to prevent it; that we had isolated her and ringed her round with hostile alliances. We knew that these notions were all entirely false. We knew that, so far from hampering German commerce, {40} our Free Trade system in the United Kingdom, in the Dependencies, and in the Indian Empire had fostered it and helped its rapid and brilliant success more than any other external factor.

For fully thirty years from 1870—during which period what remained of the uncivilised portions of the world was divided up, during which period also Germany was the most powerful nation in Europe, and could have had anything she wanted of these new territories almost for the asking—Bismarck and the statesmen of his school, engrossed mainly in the European situation, set little store by colonies, thought of them rather as expensive and dangerous vanities, and abstained deliberately from taking an energetic part in the scramble. We knew, that in Africa and the East, Germany had nevertheless obtained considerable possessions, and that it was, primarily her own fault that she had not obtained more. We assumed, no doubt very foolishly, that she must ultimately become aware of her absurdity in blaming us for her own neglect. We forgot human nature, and the apologue of the drunkard who cursed the lamp-post for its clumsiness in getting in his way.

The British people knew that Germany was talking nonsense; but unfortunately they never fully realised that she was sincere, and meant all the things she said. They thought she only half believed in her complaints, as a man is apt to do when ill-temper upsets his equanimity. They were confident that in the end the falsities would perish and the verities remain, and that in the fulness of time the two nations would become friends.

As to this last the British people probably judged correctly; but they entirely overlooked the fact, {41} that if truth was to be given a chance of prevailing in the end, it was important to provide against mischief which might very easily occur in the meantime. Nor did their rulers, whose duty it was, ever warn them seriously of this necessity.

DANGERS OF ILL-TEMPER

When a man works himself up into a rage and proceeds to flourish a loaded revolver, something more is necessary for the security of the bystanders than the knowledge that his ill-temper does not rest upon a reasonable basis. War was not inevitable, certainly; but until the mood of Germany changed, it was exceedingly likely to occur unless the odds against the aggressor were made too formidable for him to face. None of the governments, however, which have controlled our national destinies since 1900, ever developed sufficient energy to realise the position of affairs, or ever mustered up courage to tell the people clearly what the risks were, to state the amount of the premium which was required to cover the risks, and to insist upon the immediate duty of the sacrifice which imperial security inexorably demanded.


[1] "I hear it also constantly said—there is no use shutting our eyes or ears to obvious facts—that owing to divergent interests, war some day or other between this country and Germany is inevitable. I never believe in these inevitable wars."—Mr. Bonar Law in England and Germany.

[2] Rumour finds confirmation in the White Paper; also in an interview with Mr. Lloyd George, reported in Pearson's Magazine, March 1915, p. 265, col. ii.