PREFACE TO THE SECOND IMPRESSION
I avail myself of the publication of a second printing of this work (without any changes in the text) to amplify somewhat the distinction between the war as it appeared in 1914 and its aspect in 1917, which I set forth at the beginning of the concluding chapter. The distinction made between what I call the two wars is, as I can see, open to an interpretation which was remote from my mind. The main purpose of this concluding chapter is to bring forward a proposed solution for the Eastern Question, suggested as the result of a prolonged study both of the ancient and of the modern East. By way of leading up to this solution I felt it desirable to emphasize that the various issues which confronted Europe at the outbreak of the war in 1914,—and among which, as I endeavored to show, the Bagdad Railway was the largest single contributing factor,—have been moved into the background through the supreme and paramount issue which became more sharply defined as the war progressed. This paramount issue, the existence of a ruthless militarism in close alliance with an entirely antiquated form of autocratic government, is essentially a moral one, for the attempt to terrorize the world and to carry out a national policy of domination through sheer military force are two cardinal sins against what may be called the conscience of the world.
It is not the first time that such a menace has confronted the world, but it may safely be asserted that the menace has never appeared in so formidable a guise. The world cannot pursue its even course until the spectre of Prussian militarism has been laid. The paramount issue, as I indicate in my volume, must be disposed of first, before the questions confronting Europe during the fateful last week of July can be taken up.
In drawing a distinction, therefore, between the two wars, I did not wish to imply that there was no connection between them. On the contrary I indicated that the main factor leading to the recognition on the part of the civilized world of the paramount issue was Germany's brutal and inexcusable conduct of the war which revealed her sinister plans, formed long before 1914, for forceful domination of the East without regard to the simplest demands of international law or to the most elementary considerations of humanitarianism. The purpose of these plans was by means of such domination to establish for herself the commanding place in the world to the discomfiture and virtual subjugation of her rivals.
Writing as a student of history, whose primary obligation is to present the various sides of a situation clearly and fairly before pronouncing a verdict, I give, in the course of the discussion, Germany's side of the diplomatic position as it appeared on August 1st, 1914, that is to say, at the time of the declaration of war on Russia; and I do this in order to emphasize that giving Germany the full benefit of every doubt,—on the assumption that she was entirely sincere in the presentation of her case in the White Book issued by the German Government shortly after the outbreak of the war,—she would still be condemned in the eyes of the world by her conduct of the war, which spoilt any case that she might have had.
My indictment represents the verdict after a review of her case. We might, as I suggest in the same connection, go even so far as to waive the question whether she actually willed the war, and assume that the pressure of the military party on the civil government forced the issue (and for which there is some evidence), and yet we would have to condemn her just as strongly because of her unwillingness to prevent the war by her fateful and criminal rejection of Sir Edward Grey's proposition for a conference to settle the Austrian-Servian crisis and to which conference all the other powers had consented.
Concerned as I am in this closing chapter, as throughout the book, with the Eastern Question, I did not deem it necessary to enlarge on the more general aspects of the war (particularly as my views on that phase have merely the value of the ordinary observer), or I would have emphasized strongly, instead of merely suggesting as I do, that Germany's support of Austria's contention that the Servian question was a matter for her to settle without European intervention, had a sinister substratum. That sinister substratum is, of course, more clearly evident now, in 1917, than it was in 1914, though at that time it was no doubt recognized in the European Chancelleries, familiar with the details of Germany's plan for domination of the East. The railway from Berlin-Vienna-Constantinople leads through Belgrade, Nish and Sofia. The control of Servia, as of Bulgaria, was, therefore, essential to Germany for carrying out the Hamburg to Bagdad project, the very core of Pan-Germanism, as I point out towards the close of the chapter on the Bagdad Railway.
At the same time, while it is evident that the Bagdad Railway project was thus the deciding factor that led Germany in July, 1914, to take the position that directly brought on the war as an inevitable outcome of that position, it must be recognized by the historian—as it is indeed recognized by all thoughtful students—that there were other issues, of a most serious and threatening character, that helped to complicate the situation in Europe and that contained the menace of an Inter-European war. No one can read Mr. Lowes Dickinson's careful analysis of the European situation in 1914, as succinctly set forth in his "European Anarchy," to which I refer several times in the course of my book, or read the account of the diplomatic negotiations in M. P. Price's Diplomatic History of the War, or any other of a dozen books that might be mentioned, without realizing the combustible material that lay loosely about in the diplomatic workshops of Europe in 1914. It is only necessary to name the Balkan question, which had brought on two serious conflicts in two successive years shortly before 1914, and to refer to the admirable investigation of the complicated problem that has recently been published by Mr. J. A. R. Marriott ("The Eastern Question, A Study in European Diplomacy," Oxford, 1917) to warn us against a onesided view by concentrating our exclusive attention on Germany's aggressive plans. The ambitions of Russia—at the time under the sway of an imperialistic group of much the same type as in Germany—to secure Constantinople and to form a Pan-Slavonic union to thwart Germany's ambitions and to check the plans of Austria-Hungary for the Balkan control, cannot, of course, be overlooked in a survey of the European situation in 1914. Italy, too, had been growing restless for a slice of the East. In 1911 she had seized Tripoli, which had brought on her war with Turkey. She was laying plans for a zone of influence along the southern coast of Asia Minor and she manifested a direct and aggressive interest in the Albanian question. The growing economic rivalry between England and Germany for the markets of the world was another issue that, to be sure, was not disassociated from the political ambitions of Germany, for the German government was behind the commercial expansion plans of her manufacturers and merchants, ready to aid them in order to strengthen her political hold over her own population, but the rivalry nevertheless was an outcome of conditions that did not have their origin in diplomatic complications. It seems to me, therefore, that to distinguish sharply between the aspect of the war in 1914 and the aspect which it has in 1917 is helpful to a clarification of the situation—That is what I had in mind in representing the contrast as that between two wars. The paramount issue in the present aspect of the war, so clearly defined in the various notable utterances of the official spokesman of this republic during 1917 and 1918, was, of course, present also in the war of 1914, but as an undercurrent which was brought to the surface through the three factors on which I dwell at the beginning of the closing chapter, to wit: Germany's conduct of the war, the Russian Revolution, and our entrance into the conflict.
The rivalry for supremacy among the great European nations is assuredly a fact that cannot be denied, as little as the fact that all of them—Russia, England, France, Italy and even Greece—had their national ambitions in 1914 and long before that period, as well as Germany and Austria-Hungary. These ambitions took on different forms, a longing for more territory in some cases, a desire for political control of a region in others, and an ambition for spheres of commercial influence with or without political control in still others. Conflicting ambitions are as natural among nations as are rivalries in the non-political commercial world. When these conflicting ambitions reach a crisis, war is always imminent, and under the historical conditions that held sway in Europe prior to 1914, it may be said that war is almost inevitable. Witness the fact that the nineteenth century, despite its glorious achievements in science and its marvelous material progress through discoveries and inventions that have revolutionized the aspect of life, has more wars to its credit—or rather, to its discredit—than almost any other century in the world's history.
It is not easy, without an effort, to project ourselves back to 1914 without being influenced by the viewpoint that has developed in 1917. It is quite natural that we should look at 1914 from the vantage ground of the development of the war, but if we make the effort to visualize conditions three and a half years ago as they then appeared to the surface observer, there is, I feel, considerable justification for regarding the war of 1914—viewed from the point of view of 1914, and not of 1917—as a struggle for supremacy among European nations, brought about, in the last analysis, as the result of conflicting national ambitions, with Germany's aggressive policy for domination in the East, under the threat and menace of the mailed fist, as the chief factor, but not as the only one, in leading to the conflict that has plunged the world in such sorrow and suffering.
We may, at the present moment, look hopefully towards the future. The message, voiced so effectively by President Wilson, presaging the dawn of a new era in which the rights of nations to life and liberty will receive the first consideration, and in which the will of the people will be the sovereign force everywhere, is sweeping like a mighty current through the world. That message is penetrating even the thick walls that the Central Powers have erected around themselves to prevent their people from hearing the new gospel. It may be that these walls will have to be stormed at the point of the bayonet and amidst the roar of cannon before the message can reach Germany and Austria-Hungary in all its force, but of the ultimate triumph of the higher principle in the regulation of international relations, announced over two thousand years ago by a Hebrew prophet, "Not by might nor by power, but by my spirit"—of the triumph of the idea, through its inherent force, and stripped of all shining armor—there need be no doubt and there need be no fear.
