British industrialists knew but rarely acknowledged that there was also a marked superiority in new German manufactures like organic chemicals and electrical goods. The British press carried bitter stories of the ‘unfair’ tactics of German salesmen spying on British trade practices, pandering to foreign countries and seducing them to the extent of, heaven forbid, translating brochures into their own language. By the turn of the century, German success was being denounced in exaggerated and over-excited terms, but the truth was ever more evident: German industrial expansion had left important sections of the British economy behind.
Having started its industrial revolution much earlier, British manufacturing suffered from comparative technological backwardness and the lack of new investment. A considerable portion of the profit from British industry was being invested in high-interest yielding portfolios and securities abroad, rather than re-invested in industrial modernisation at home. The German chancellor was correct in stating that the sanctity of British industrial supremacy was being challenged, but it was due as much to British complacency that leads were lost, opportunities missed and markets overtaken as it was to German growth. Better quality, cheaper goods were now coming from America and Japan, but mostly from Germany.6
The Secret Elite did not accept that German economic and industrial success was a just reward for their investment in better education and new technology. Together with its burgeoning industry, and a brand-new merchant fleet that promised future colonial expansion, Germany was also beginning to invest in oil production in Romania and Galicia.7 This was even more alarming because the Secret Elite knew just how strategically important oil was for future industrial development and warfare. The German threat had to be removed, and war was the only means by which that could be achieved.
As far as the Secret Elite were concerned, there was no need to be squeamish or reticent about war. Britain had never experienced a single year of peace since the start of Queen Victoria’s reign in 1837, with British forces having fought in over a hundred wars of imperial conquest across the globe.8 The atrocities inflicted upon native Africans, Boer women and children, and Chinese slaves in South Africa exemplified the gross inhumanity of British imperialism. While many across the world railed and ranted at Sir Alfred Milner and General Kitchener, the principal perpetrators of these atrocities, King Edward ennobled them. Civilised nations were appalled. In India, Burma, Afghanistan, Sudan, Egypt, Nigeria, Rhodesia, on small islands and great continents, hundreds of thousands had been slaughtered or left to die of starvation in the wake of British imperial victories. What had Alfred Milner advised? ‘Disregard the screamers.’ Ironically, those classroom maps of the world that proudly showed the extent of the British Empire in all of its glory used blood red to depict the conquest.
If the Secret Elite were to achieve their great dream of world domination, the first step now had to be the removal of the Teutonic menace, the destruction of its economic prowess and restoration of the primacy of the British Empire. The plan presented great strategic difficulty. Friendless in her splendid isolation, Britain could never destroy Germany on her own. For a start, there was no continental foothold, and Britain’s strength was her all-powerful navy, not a large army. Diplomatic channels had to be opened and overtures made to old enemies Russia and France. Friendship and alliances were required. This was no mean task since Anglo-French bitterness had been the main feature of the diplomatic scene over the previous decade, and war between France and Britain over Egypt had seemed a real possibility in 1895.9
Russia was also an imperial rival with designs of her own. In 1896, both Britain and Russia had considered using their fleets to take control of the Black Sea Straits and Constantinople. Here too there was an unrealised war, this time between Britain and Russia.10 Historic antagonisms are not easily forgotten, but the Secret Elite were not interested in building genuine friendships. The huge armies of France and Russia were integral to the mammoth task of stopping Germany in its tracks. Put simply, the Secret Elite needed others to undertake much of their bloody business, for war against Germany would certainly be bloody.
Over the previous 30 years, Britain had stood aloof from the quagmire of alliances, secret understandings and quasi partnerships between the nations of Europe. In breaking with tradition, and drawing venom from many Members of Parliament who saw in alliances the immediate danger of being trapped into war, the Secret Elite encouraged the foreign secretary into a surprising move. In 1902, the Conservative government announced the first ever alliance between any European power and an oriental country, Japan. It was a masterstroke. Britain and Japan entered into a formal alliance that they claimed stemmed from their joint interest in maintaining the status quo in China. Prime Minister Arthur Balfour berated the Liberal leader Campbell-Bannerman for implying that there was ‘some occult reason lying behind the transaction’.11 Of course there was. Both Germany and Russia had designs on Chinese trade, and Russia had expanded its railway system into Asia in order to advance its influence there. The Foreign Office was, as ever, a day’s march ahead of the enemy.
Japan was the only country for whom the British shipyards had built an enormous tonnage of ships at the beginning of the century, including ‘splendid battleships’.12 At a stroke, the Secret Elite produced an ally who could block both Russian and German ambitions in the Far East. The Anglo-Japanese treaty sat on the back burner of international relations, apparently inoffensive and unthreatening, but it put down a marker and broke the spell of isolation to which so many in Britain clung instinctively. It may appear a strange tactic to deliberately antagonise a country that Britain needed in the longer term as an ally, but Russia had to be broken in the east before she could be remoulded in a manner that suited the Secret Elite.
Unlike Britain, Germany was no newcomer to international alliances. In 1879, Chancellor Bismarck had opened negotiations that led to Germany’s alliance with Austria-Hungary. In 1887, he was also responsible for a secret agreement, the ‘Reinsurance Treaty’, between Germany and Russia. Bismarck was strategically astute. Potential enemies surrounded Germany, and his system of alliances offered the newly unified country time and space to grow strong.
Very full of himself, the young Kaiser Wilhelm II succeeded to the throne and dismissed Bismarck. He also chose to abandon the crucial alliance with Russia by deliberately allowing it to lapse without renewal. France, so completely beaten into submission by the Prussian/German State in 1870, lost no time at all in recognising an opportunity to align herself with Russia in a pact signed in December 1893. It was, on the face of it, a strange marriage of convenience, for the two countries were in many ways exact opposites. The French Republic could justifiably claim to be one of Europe’s most democratic franchises, while Russia, at the other end of that political spectrum, was one of the last of the absolute monarchies. A Franco-Russian alliance, however, made understandable strategic and economic sense, since at that time they had common foes in Germany and Britain.13
Thus France and Russia combined in the ‘Dual Alliance’, while Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy had come together in the ‘Triple Alliance’. Before the Boer War, Britain had maintained friendly relations with Germany, but a sea change was taking place that demanded a complete rethink from the Secret Elite policy makers. Germany had to be knocked from its pedestal, its assumed ambitions curbed and the kaiser humbled. After centuries of mutual animosity, France, previously the most persistent and important British rival,14 no longer posed a threat to the Empire. This change in attitude was reflected in the political storm that was deliberately generated after Kaiser Wilhelm’s telegram of support to Kruger in 1896, while little regard was paid to the fact that French opinion had also been outspokenly hostile to Britain during the Boer War. During his visit to Europe, the French government welcomed President Kruger with ostentatious cordiality.15 Although Kruger had specifically asked to meet the kaiser on that same visit, his request was turned down because Wilhelm did not want to upset British sensitiviti
es. His consideration cut little ice with the British press.16 Much was made of the kaiser’s telegram, but in truth it was the German economic success story that stuck in John Bull’s craw.17 The telegram was used as a weapon in the growing armoury of British propaganda against Germany. France, on the other hand, was needed for the task ahead. Her criticisms of Britain, and cordial welcome for Britain’s enemy, were conveniently overlooked.
In addition to the new relationship that needed to be crafted with France and Russia, four prerequisites had to be met before Britain went to war with Germany. Each required dedicated and long-term planning. Matters could not be left to chance. Irrespective of any change of government at general elections, the Secret Elite had to pursue a consistent foreign policy focused on preparing for a war that would see Germany crushed and the problem removed. To this end, both major political parties in Britain had to be under their control, whatever differences they might profess in domestic affairs. Second, the army, so thoroughly embarrassed by the heavily outnumbered Boers, had to be reorganised into an effective and powerful fighting force. The third requirement was more straightforward. The navy had to retain its supremacy on the high seas. That was a given fact of life anyway, but retaining supremacy meant modernisation and further investment. Finally, minds had to be changed. Men did not march to war on a whim. A massive and consistent propaganda drive was needed to create a German ‘menace’ and whip the British people into a froth of hatred towards Germany and Kaiser Wilhelm.
Initially, Germany’s leaders were not overly concerned about the bitter anti-German rhetoric that followed the Boer War. Nor were they impressed by Britain’s overtures to France. They believed that a Westminster government would never sanction such an alliance. Germany’s basic mistake lay in a deep-rooted conviction that ‘Britain could never draw close to her traditional French enemy, and certainly not to her bitter Russian rival’.18 Like everyone else, they held to the naive belief that parliamentary government was thriving in Britain, unaware of the growing power and influence being exerted behind the scenes. While the Germans were slow to understand what was happening, others were not. Count De Lalaing, the Belgian ambassador in London, clearly realised the dangers. On 7 February 1905, he wrote to the minister of foreign affairs in Brussels:
The hostility of the English public towards the German nation is founded apparently in jealousy and fear: jealousy in view of Germany’s economic and commercial schemes; fear from the perception that the German fleet may perhaps one day become a competitor for naval supremacy … This state of mind is fomented by the English press, heedless of international complications … the spirit of jingoism runs its course unchecked among the people in England; and the newspapers are, bit by bit, poisoning public opinion.19
How right he was, but what he did not appreciate was the extent to which ‘this state of mind’ was being orchestrated. It was in meetings at select private clubs and weekend gatherings at stately homes like Tring and Mentmore that the anti-German propaganda was agreed and policy determined. The Secret Elite deemed Germany to be the greatest single barrier to their global takeover, so they created a German bogeyman and invested in him all of their own vices. Newspapers, magazines and novels spewed out their propaganda, week after week, month after month, and sadly the ‘people in England’ swallowed it with relish.
In a rapidly changing world where socialism, women’s rights, trade unionism, parliamentary reform, land reform and a flurry of challenging demands were being presented to the government, the Secret Elite would require very strong political leadership and sustained support to see this through. Sustained support was the one thing that the Secret Elite could guarantee by ensuring that their trusted lieutenants and agents held key positions in government, the Civil Service, the army and navy and the diplomatic service, no matter which political party was in power. Alfred Milner was a consummate organiser, and his Secret Elite network stayed focused on their prime target despite all the political distractions at home.
Several weeks after the South African War ended in a victory soured by bitter acrimony, important changes took place in Britain. The Conservative prime minister, Lord Salisbury, resigned. In a blatant act of unashamed nepotism, he anointed his nephew, Arthur Balfour, as his successor, and thereby promoted another member of the Secret Elite to the highest political position in the Empire.20 Balfour had been a member of the inner circle from the secret society’s inception in February 1891, and his family background and political instinct gave him every advantage in British politics and society. His mother was a member of the immensely rich and powerful Cecil family that had dominated British politics for centuries. His godfather was the Duke of Wellington. Balfour’s early career followed the pattern of many of his peers who entered the political arena with no specific ambition but with the ease and sense of entitlement that marked their upbringing. Balfour was ruling class through and through, but more, he belonged to that most powerful and determined group of wealthy and influential imperial loyalists whose secret agenda he could translate into policy in his new Conservative government. The change of prime minister was no change at all.
A much more significant change heralded the Secret Elite’s most special weapon: Edward, prince of diplomats, king/emperor and inner-core co-conspirator. At 6.30 p.m. on 22 January 1901, 81-year-old Queen Victoria died at Osborne House on the Isle of Wight. Her death came as no surprise, since her health had been deteriorating for some time. Nevertheless, it was a shock to the nation because Victoria had been queen for 63 years and the vast majority had known no other monarch. Poignantly, it was her favoured grandson, Kaiser Wilhelm, who cradled her in his arms as she died.21 Victoria may have been mourned by grieving subjects, but the ascent of Edward VII was crucially important to the Secret Elite.
The British royal family of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha was rich in German blood, and while the grand old lady sat on the throne, war with Germany had been unthinkable. King Edward VII, however, detested Germany as much as his late mother had been fond of it. He and Kaiser Wilhelm met at regular intervals when racing their grand yachts at Cowes, but Uncle Edward had little time for his nephew. This was in part due to the influence of King Edward’s wife, Princess Alexandra of Denmark. She developed an almost paranoid hatred of Germany after Denmark lost the disputed territories of Schleswig-Holstein to it in 1864. Although Edward, when Prince of Wales, frequently acted as host to the kaiser, he received very little assistance from his wife, ‘who loathed all Germans in general and William in particular’.22 She repeatedly wrote to her sister, the czarina of Russia, how untrustworthy he was, and frequently aired such opinions to her children. Edward’s subsequent actions clearly indicated that he shared his wife’s obsessive and venomous hatred of Germany.
It would have been impossible to pursue war with Germany without the undivided support of the royal family. That they themselves were of German blood was no impediment. The monarchy was viewed as the font of Englishness. They sat at the epicentre of the greatest known empire. Edward was the monarch with whom the Secret Elite and their entourage fraternised or slept.
Whether or not Edward VII hated his mother is a moot point, but he had cause to dislike her enormously. She disapproved of his lifestyle, his friends and his lack of royal reserve. And she told him so. Victoria was not afraid of speaking her mind. He disappointed her, never lived up to her expectations, and she was convinced that he would not amount to much. She blamed him for Prince Albert’s death and wrote to her eldest (and favourite) daughter, Victoria, who was, briefly, the German empress: ‘I never can or shall look at him without a shudder.’23
Victoria tried to keep Edward at arm’s length from government business, and he was frustrated that he was less trusted with official papers than secretaries and ministers.24 When Prime Minister Gladstone asked to include the Prince of Wales in the circulation of Cabinet papers, Victoria would not have it. She commented disparagingly that secrets should not be shared with one who talks too much.25 But as The Times later observed wi
th stunning clarity: ‘The invitations to Malbrough House and Sandringham were by no means confined to the butterfly society.’26 The future King Edward VII was no butterfly.
Edward’s friends were not limited to the lush and the libidinous. Nor was he the hapless inconsequent that his mother believed. He had considerable gifts, amongst which were fluency in French and German. He was an attentive listener and a first-class speaker who could deliver an impromptu speech that captured his audience and concisely caught the moment. Edward rarely if ever used notes, and he had the capacity to include others in conversation as he moved round a room. He was charm personified, sharp and incisive, and completely belied the lampoon characterisations that belittled him.
From 1886, Lord Rosebery forwarded Foreign Office dispatches to him without the queen’s approval. From that point on, ‘every important foreign dispatch was placed at his disposal’, and by 1892 Cabinet reports and proceedings were submitted to him.27 He moved, unseen by the public eye, amongst politicians and nobility, government ministers and up-and-coming aspirants, diplomats, admirals and field-marshals, absorbing, considering and discussing future policy. His closest friends included Lord Esher and Lord Nathanial Rothschild. He took advice from Alfred Milner, was grateful to Lord Rosebery for the trust he showed in him as Prince of Wales, and he shared the Secret Elite philosophy for world dominance by the Anglo-Saxon race. After all, it was his Empire they intended to promote across the globe. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, who ascended the throne on 22 January 1901, took the regal title of King Edward VII. As king, he operated at the heart of the inner core of the Secret Elite.
His greatest contribution lay in engineering the much-needed realignments in international relations that unpicked potential rivalries, smoothed over past difficulties and addressed the Secret Elite’s prerequisite need to isolate Germany. Ultimate responsibility for British foreign policy lay, by precedent, with the elected government and not the sovereign, but it was King Edward VII who enticed both France and Russia into secret alliances with Britain within six short years. He was in effect the de facto foreign secretary. Many historians have denied his ambassadorial role, claiming that his foreign travels ‘were visits of ceremony or of pleasure’.28 What nonsense. Prime Minister Balfour’s foreign policy proceeded exactly in line with the Secret Elite’s grand design. Foreign Secretary Lansdowne facilitated the process, but it was King Edward who emerged as the driving force. His work was crucial, and the royal stamp of approval assured positive public opinion both at home and abroad. France and Russia were needed in a new capacity: as Britain’s friends and allies. This was agreed in secret by the Secret Elite without the knowledge or consent of the Cabinet. The alliances would have been unacceptable to most Members of Parliament and the general public but were enacted for one single purpose: to throttle Germany. There was no real opposition to be voiced, because the real opposition did not know it was happening.
Hidden History: The Secret Origins of the First World War. Page 8
