Twenty-Five Years: 1892-1916 - Vol. I

Viscount Grey of Fallodon

• Publisher: Arcole Publishing
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781789125412
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World War I
• Index: History

GREAT BRITAIN'S brilliant statesman, Foreign Secretary during the early years of the war, tells the story of the twenty-five years from 1892 to 1916 inclusive—an account of the most momentous period in modern history by the man who was for a longer time continuously in charge of Foreign Affairs than any other minister in the world.Lord Grey enters deeply into British-American relations—revealing for the first time many important transactions hitherto unknown to the public—and has much to say of Theodore Roosevelt, Walter Hines Page and Colonel House, giving us some Roosevelt letters never before published. He also gives the text of the confidential memorandum presented to him by Colonel House which stated the peace terms President Wilson would attempt to secure.The outstanding work of the year, supplementing in many interesting ways "The Life and Letters of Walter H. Page."Richly illustrated throughout with photographs.

 

CHAPTER I—(1892-1895)—FIRST DAYS IN OFFICE

The 1892 Election—Mr. Gladstone’s Last Government—Under-Secretary to Lord Rosebery—The Work of the Under-Secretary—Continuity of Policy—Great Britain and the Triple Alliance—Principles of British Foreign Policy—The Balance of Power.

 

IN July 1892 the result of the General Election gave to Liberals and Irish Nationalists combined a majority of forty in the House of Commons. The political alliance between Liberals and Irish was complete; the Unionist Government was displaced on the meeting of the new House of Commons in August, and Mr. Gladstone formed a Liberal Home Rule Cabinet, the Irish standing out of office, but giving assurances of solid and thorough support, for the introduction and passing of a Home Rule Bill were to be the first and main objects of the Government.

Lord Rosebery went to the Foreign Office, entering office, it was said, with some reluctance and not without some representation from outside purely Liberal quarters that his presence at the Foreign Office was essential in the public interest. He selected me as his Parliamentary Under-Secretary.

I had had no special training for Foreign Office work, nor had I till then paid special attention to foreign affairs. But special knowledge is not a necessary qualification in a young man appointed to a Parliamentary Under-Secretaryship. His business is not to be an expert, but to be trained in capacity for public affairs. The theory and practice of parliamentary government is not that of government by experts, but by men of general experience and proved capacity presiding over experts who are the civil servants in our public affairs.

The Parliamentary Under-Secretary at the Foreign Office had, in the official routine, little share in directing policy. He had access at all times to his chief, the Secretary of State; he could express his views of what was being done by memoranda or orally; he could resign if he did not agree. He saw all important telegrams and despatches, but they came to him after they had been settled and despatched. His business was to make himself thoroughly acquainted with all that was done in the Office, to get up carefully any particular point on which information was sought by Members of the House of Commons, to make statements on foreign affairs that should be in entire accordance with the policy of the Cabinet, and to defend and explain that policy without giving offence to foreign countries. It was not for him to take upon himself the responsibility of indiscretions; he had to be discreet without being unnecessarily reserved. It was an admirable and interesting training, particularly when, as sometimes happened, there had been differences of opinion in the Cabinet resulting in a decision that was a compromise. On such occasions the Under-Secretary was informed by his chief of the decision reached and received general instructions from him. He had then to interpret and expound the policy to the House of Commons, sometimes at considerable length, in such a way as to satisfy one party in the Cabinet without saying a word that might seem to the other party to be disloyal to the compromise to which they had agreed. He had to do this without having been present at the Cabinet discussions at which the differences and shades of opinion had been manifested and at which the decision of policy had been reached. The statement had to be made in public, in face of an opposition alert and on the watch for an opening, and with Cabinet Ministers who were parties to the policy sitting on each side of him. A compromise is generally a dull conclusion of interesting, sometimes painfully interesting, discussions; it is anodyne and sedative, but it is not always the negation of two opposite policies and the adoption of a middle course between them. It seemed to the Under-Secretary that it sometimes consisted of one section getting its way as to what should be done, while the other section made conditions as to how the policy should be formulated and announced.

There were not, however, differences of opinion in the Cabinets of 1892-5 about grave matters of foreign policy; the main difference was as to whether British East Africa and Uganda should become definitely British possessions, and whether a railway to Uganda should be made. These questions were under the Foreign Office, but they were questions of Imperial Expansion not of foreign policy, and later on they were naturally transferred to the Colonial Office. They were made the subject of controversy and attack by the Unionist Opposition, whereas on matters of foreign policy that Opposition gave general support to the Liberal Government, both while Lord Rosebery was at the Foreign Office and when he was Prime Minister. I will, therefore, not dwell further on these matters that seemed so difficult and important at the time, and will come to matters of foreign policy that are the chief subject of this narrative.

Before and during the Election of 1892 r. Gladstone kept foreign affairs out of party politics; indeed, he expressly said in one speech that he did not find fault with the foreign policy of Lord Salisbury from 1886 to 1892, and thereby ruled it to be not a matter of controversy between parties.

Lord Rosebery, when he took the Foreign Office, informed the Ambassadors of the Triple Alliance that it was his intention to continue Lord Salisbury’s policy. One of my first recollections is that of reading the record of the conversations in which this was conveyed to these three Ambassadors, and in which they expressed their cordial satisfaction at the intimation.

The traditional policy which the new Government took up was that of a distinct friendship with the Triple Alliance; there was no engagement, no promise, no definite agreement; it was a policy that could be changed at any moment. Great Britain had remained sufficiently detached and free for Mr. Goschen, a member of Lord Salisbury’s Cabinet, speaking from the Treasury bench in the House of Commons, to describe our position as one of splendid isolation. On the other hand, there was something that in practice manifested itself as a working arrangement; so manifest and well known was it that French newspapers, when particularly provoked by friction with Great Britain, would write wrathfully not of the Triple but of the Quadruple Alliance. British Governments in these years sided diplomatically with the Triple Alliance. Those who affirm that England’s policy has always been that of the Balance of Power in Europe should consider whether British policy in these years does entirely agree with this theory of it.

I have never, so far as I recollect, used the phrase “Balance of Power.” I have often deliberately avoided the use of it, and I have never consciously set it before me as something to be pursued, attained, and preserved. I am not, therefore, qualified to explain or define what it is. I imagine it to mean that when one Power or group of Powers is the strongest “bloc” in Europe, our policy has been, or should be, that of creating, or siding with, some other combination of Powers, in order to make a counterpoise to the strongest Power or Group and so to preserve equilibrium in Europe. Now the Triple Alliance in 1886 and the following years, when Lord Salisbury and Lord Rosebery were Prime Ministers, was indisputably the strongest political combination, the most powerful thing in Europe. Nevertheless, the policy of friendship with it was followed by the British Government even before the Franco-Russian Alliance had come into existence as a counterpoise; and this policy was continued for many years, while the Triple Alliance continued, in spite of the Franco-Russian Alliance, to be the dominant factor in European diplomacy. During this period, therefore, Great Britain did not attempt to create any counterpoise to the strongest group; on the contrary, the British Government sided with that group. I do not affirm that this, when closely examined, disproves the theory that the tendency of British policy has been to preserve a balance of power; but there is sufficient apparent inconsistency with the theory to make it necessary to examine what may be called the Triple Alliance policy of the British Government from 1886 to the end of the century and to ask why it was followed.

I suppose that in this, as in most investigations of British foreign policy, the true reason is not to be found in far-sighted views or large conceptions or great schemes. A Minister beset with the administrative work of a great Office must often be astounded to read of the carefully laid plans, the deep, unrevealed motives that critics or admirers attribute to him. Onlookers free from responsibility have time to invent, and they attribute to Ministers many things that Ministers have no time to invent for themselves, even if they are clever enough to be able to do it. If all secrets were known it would probably be found that British Foreign Ministers have been guided by what seemed to them to be the immediate interest of this country without making elaborate calculations for the future. Their best qualities have been negative rather than positive. They would not execute sharp turns or quick changes of front; they were not disposed to make mischief or stir up strife amongst other nations, or to fish in troubled waters; for their instinct was that peace and stability in Europe were the conditions best suited to British trade; and they have generally shrunk from committing themselves for future contingencies, from creating expectations that they might not be able to fulfil, and from saying at any time more than they really meant. On the whole, the British Empire has been well served by these methods. It has, at any rate, been saved from capital and disastrous mistakes; such mistakes as are made by a great thinker, calculating far ahead, who thinks or calculates wrongly. It has also been saved from the disaster of seeing a policy that needs for success the continuous supervision of a great man break down and be wrecked when its great author has been succeeded by inferior men. Critics may find many mistakes and shortcomings in British foreign policy of the last hundred years, and these may be legitimately exposed, or even derided; but, when all has been said, let them ask, what other nation in Europe can, after a review of the last hundred years, say confidently of its own policy, “si monumentum quaeris, circumspice?” The result, no doubt, is due to qualities of character or industry inherent in the race, to advantages of geographical position, to things that were not to be placed to the special credit of Ministers for Foreign Affairs; but it is at least a tenable view that the conduct of those affairs has been suited to the development and needs of the Empire.

Whether the great European catastrophe of 1914 could have been prevented by any British statesmanship and other questions connected with that issue will be examined when the narrative reaches that point. I return to consider the reasons that made British policy in 1886 and afterwards lean to the Triple Alliance. The most obvious reason was that the British Empire had occasions of acute friction with France or with Russia, friction much more frequent and acute than the countries of the Triple Alliance. We therefore sided with those with whom we had least cause of quarrel. It was also necessary to have diplomatic support in Egypt. Lord Cromer’s work there was too important to be given up without loss and prejudice to British interests; it was also too intrinsically good for Egypt, both financially and humanely, for us to think of abandoning it without a sense of shame. But it could not be carried on without diplomatic support from the foreign representatives at Cairo, and, since we were confronted there by French and Russian opposition, the support of the Triple Alliance was essential to us. These are obvious, and, some people will perhaps think, sufficient reasons, but underlying and strengthening them, there was, I think, a belief that the power of the Triple Alliance made for stability and therefore peace in Europe; that France and Russia, though militarily the weaker, were the restless Powers, while the Triple Alliance was on the whole contented. The conclusion I would draw is that Great Britain has not in theory been adverse to the predominance of a strong group in Europe when it seemed to make for stability and peace. To support such a combination has generally been her first choice; it is only when the dominant Power becomes aggressive and she feels her own interests to be threatened that she, by an instinct of self-defence, if not by deliberate policy, gravitates to anything that can fairly be described as a Balance of Power.

CHAPTER II—(1892-1895)—FRICTION WITH GERMANY AND FRANCE

An Incident at Cairo—The Rough Side of German Friendship—French Suspicions—A Siamese Crisis—A Timely Apology—Trouble in West Africa—The “Grey Declaration”—And Its Origin—Cabinet Objections—Great Britain and Japan—The Beginning of Friendship.

I SOON became aware that the policy of friendship with the Triple Alliance, however satisfactory it might be to the Governments of Germany, Austria, and Italy, was not altogether comfortable for ourselves. Lord Rosebery had not been long at the Foreign Office before he had an unpleasant experience.

Turkey was entertaining projects for making railways to develop Asia Minor. Concessions for railways, or anything else, were not then to be obtained from the Turkish Government without diplomatic effort. An applicant for a concession, however economically sound and attractive the terms he offered, had little prospect of success unless supported by his own Government. Where diplomatic pressure was the rule, commercial interests could not succeed without it. British firms were applying for railway concessions in Asia Minor, and the British Ambassador at Constantinople was, with the approval of the Foreign Office, giving them support. German firms were also applying, and the German Ambassador supporting them. Suddenly there came a sort of ultimatum from Berlin, requiring us to cease competition for railway concessions in Turkey for which Germans were applying, and stating that, unless we did so, the German Consul at Cairo would withdraw support from British Administration in Egypt. Instructions in this sense were actually sent without delay to the German Representative at Cairo, and the German ultimatum was followed—almost accompanied—by a despairing telegram from Lord Cromer pointing out that it would be impossible to carry on his work in Egypt without German support in face of French and Russian opposition.{7}

It was the abrupt and rough peremptoriness of the German action that gave me an unpleasant impression. In a humorous account of the description given by one woman of another with whom she had had an altercation in an omnibus, the phrase occurs “with her the word is the blow.” This was the German method. It cannot be said that in substance the contention was absolutely unreasonable; the Germans were, at any rate, entitled to ask that, in return for German support in Egypt, we should not oppose some specified German interests elsewhere. Had this been suggested we could not fairly have refused to consider an arrangement, if one had been proposed, that on the face of it was reasonable. But the method adopted by Germany in this instance was not that of a friend. There was no choice for us but to give way, unless we were ready to face the opening up of the whole Egyptian question without a single Great Power on our side. Lord Rosebery withdrew competition for the railway concessions in Turkey; things in Egypt resumed their normal course, and the incident was over. But it left a sense of discomfort and a bad taste behind. It exposed rudely the insidious weakness due to our position in Egypt. It was open to Germany to repeat the squeeze, whenever she desired to exclude us from a commercial field in which she was interested. As long as we assumed responsibility for the government of Egypt, the Capitulations were like a noose round our neck, which any Great Power, having rights under the Capitulations, could tighten at will. In this case the noose had been roughly jerked by Germany. The episode was an illustration of the hollowness of the phrase “splendid isolation.” It was not “isolation,” and it was far from being “splendid.” This particular incident passed without any conscious effect on our policy, but it gave rise to some reflections upon the weakness of our position, and it may be that similar experiences were an element in the policy of our successors, the Unionist Governments of Lord Salisbury and Mr. Balfour.

There were, however, other things incidental to British policy at this period which were much more serious and unpleasant than an occasional exhibition of the rough side of German friendship. Among these was the constant friction, rising on the slightest provocation to quarrel and hostility, between Great Britain and France or Russia. The ground-swell of ill-will never ceased. British interests touched those of France and Russia in many parts of the world; and where interests touch, an atmosphere of ill-will is always dangerous. The blackest suspicion thrives in it, like a noxious growth under dark skies in murky air. The most simple and straightforward acts of one Government are attributed by the other to sinister motives; the agents of each Government on the spot prick and stir their Colonial Office at home with accounts of what the agents of the other Government are doing; the smallest incident may assume proportions that threaten the peace between great nations. So it was especially between Great Britain and France at this time. The controversy that arose about Siam in 1893 is an instance of how quickly and suddenly a catastrophe might have been caused by something that had little real importance. It is so good an illustration of this that it may be worthwhile to recall it in some detail.

France was laying claim, on behalf of her own possessions in Eastern Asia, to a frontier which the Siamese Government contended was an encroachment on Siamese territory. In Eastern Asia there are many points where territorial claims provide material for argument; they grade from the most solid substance to the faintest shadows. It is not necessary now to revive argument over the merits of the controversy between France and Siam. Strange names, the river Mekong with its “Great Bend,” Battambang and Angkor, and others were for a time ‘familiar in our mouths as household words,” though we were only indirectly concerned. We had commercial interests in Siam, and the independence and integrity of Siam were therefore of concern to us; Siam was a comparatively weak State, and we waxed chivalrous. One leading member of the Conservative Party even threatened the French from the front Opposition bench with the Siamese Fleet, which he described as a compact and serviceable little squadron. We made no doubt that the French were making excessive claims, but we avowedly limited our action to precautions for the protection of British subjects and property at Bangkok, the capital of Siam situated on the river Menam.

For this purpose certain ships of the British Navy were sent to Siamese waters. The cruisers lay outside the mouth of the Menam; one gunboat, the Linnet, was sent up the river to lie at Bangkok and be absolutely on the spot to protect British lives and property in case of disorder. The French had sent ships of the French Navy to put pressure on Siam to yield to their territorial claims on the frontier. For this purpose the French declared a “pacific blockade” of Siam, and their ships of war drew the line of blockade outside the mouth of the Menam.

The British view was that there is no such thing as a “pacific blockade” and that we could not recognize what had no existence in international law. We could only recognize a “blockade” if it were an act of war. Controversy at once arose on this point. Then came two incidents that, for twenty-four hours, were thought...

Table of contents

• Title page
• TABLE OF CONTENTS
• DEDICATION
• ILLUSTRATIONS
• INTRODUCTION
• CHAPTER I-(1892-1895)-FIRST DAYS IN OFFICE
• CHAPTER II-(1892-1895)-FRICTION WITH GERMANY AND FRANCE
• CHAPTER III-(1892-1895)-FREEDOM FROM RESPONSIBILITY
• CHAPTER IV-(1895-1905)-OUT OF OFFICE
• CHAPTER V-(1905)-BACK TO THE FOREIGN OFFICE
• CHAPTER VI-(1906)-THE FIRST CRISIS (ALGECIRAS) AND THE MILITARY CONVERSATIONS
• CHAPTER VII-(1906)-THE ATMOSPHERE OF SUSPICION
• CHAPTER VIII-(1906)-AKABA AND DENSHAWAI
• CHAPTER IX-(1907)-GERMANY AND THE NORTH SEA
• CHAPTER X-(1907)-PERSIA AND RUSSIA
• CHAPTER XI-(1908-1909)-THE SECOND CRISIS (BOSNIA-HERZEGOVINA)
• CHAPTER XII-(1908-1910)-KING EDWARD AND FOREIGN POLICY
• CHAPTER XIII-(1911)-THE THIRD CRISIS (AGADIR)
• CHAPTER XIV-(1912-1913)-THE FOURTH CRISIS (THE BALKAN WAR)
• CHAPTER XV-(1914)-THE LAST DAYS OF PEACE
• CHAPTER XVI-(1914)-THE FINAL CRISIS
• REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER