Arrogant duplicity was at the core of the Secret Elite. Behind the illusion of munificent generosity, they sharpened their focus on every element that would serve their cause. The Secret Elite did not operate with transparency, nor seek the consent of Parliament. They took action as and when required to promote their agenda. Incidental matters drawn to the attention of Parliament, such as the practice of a British colony, namely Australia, of preventing the immigration of Japanese citizens was not their concern. As ever, their approach was to ‘disregard the screamers’.
Two years later, on 8 February 1904, Japan put the treaty to the test with a pre-emptive torpedo-boat attack on Russian warships in Port Arthur. There was no declaration of war. It was reminiscent of the crippling strike by the British navy on the Danish fleet berthed at Copenhagen in 1807. A series of indecisive naval engagements followed that provided cover for a Japanese landing in Korea. From Incheon, the Japanese occupied Seoul and then the rest of Korea. The czar was ill-advised to order the Russian Baltic Fleet halfway and more around the world to liberate Port Arthur and settle the devious Japanese. It was a mission that began inauspiciously and ended disastrously.
On the night of 21 October 1904, the Gamecock fishing fleet sailed out of Hull to trawl their North Sea beat at the Dogger Bank, only to find ships of the czar’s Baltic Fleet passing before them through the clearing fog. Waving and cheering, they gathered to watch what they thought were British naval manoeuvres. When the warships turned their searchlights towards them, the fishermen ‘ceased their work, and laughed and revelled in the glare’.22 Seconds later, the Russians opened fire. The trawler Crane was sunk, its captain and first mate killed, and six other fishermen wounded, one of whom died a few months later.
In the general chaos, Russian ships shot at each other. Fear and false information combined to make fools of the Russian navy. The outrage inflamed the British public. The Russians claimed that they had mistaken the fishing vessels for Japanese torpedo boats, which might sound ridiculous but the general nervousness of the Russian sailors and false reports about the presence of Japanese torpedo boats, submarines and minefields in the North Sea lent credence to their fears.23
The Dogger Bank incident assumed international status, with newspaper reports of headless fishermen, mutilated corpses and innocent victims.24 Reparations were demanded. The Foreign Office sent an immediate note of protest to St Petersburg, and the Mayor of Hull wrote to the prime minister demanding ‘the speediest and strongest measures to insure full redress’.25 Matters were in danger of spiralling out of hand. Count Benckendorff, the Russian ambassador, was attacked as he got into his cab at Victoria Station and had to be rescued by police.
Foreign Secretary Lansdowne met urgently with Prime Minister Balfour and the king. The government had to exercise concerted damage-limitation to dampen down the violent anti-Russian outbursts. National newspapers regretted the targeting of Benckendorff and The Standard rebuked the mob for such a ‘foolish demonstration’.26 On 24 October, the Daily News carried an exclusive apology from the Russian ambassador: ‘I authorise you to say from me to the people of England that I am absolutely certain that what occurred was a deplorable incident.’ While acknowledging that the outrage was probably due to ‘wicked negligence’, the colonial secretary, Alfred Lyttelton, urged everyone to ‘hold themselves entirely courteous to Russia, giving her every credit for her ready disavowal … and disassociating the many good people in Russia from any sympathy with such an outrage’.27 The Times joined in with an editorial stressing that ‘there is no wish to humiliate Russia or hurt her legitimate susceptibilities more than is absolutely demanded in the interests of justice’.28
What was going on? Russia was at war with Britain’s one and only ally, Japan. The attack on the fishing fleet could have been construed as a reason for British intervention in the Russo-Japanese war, yet the Secret Elite moved instantly to maintain good relations with Russia. Why? Despite their fears over the security of India and distrust of Russia’s intentions in China, they focused on their own long-term agenda. Never for one instant did they take their eyes off Germany. Paradoxically, while they intended Russia to fail in the Far East, there was no merit in further estranging her in Europe. Russia was earmarked for future use: against Germany.
In the French Foreign Office at the Quai d’Orsay, diplomats feared that the recently signed entente might be jeopardised. Just at the moment when Britain and France were colluding over Morocco and positioning themselves against the kaiser, this diplomatic crisis threatened the new spirit of harmony between London and Paris. Given that the French were formally allied to the Russians, the possibility of France being drawn into the Russo–Japanese war provoked real heart-search. No one could possibly have anticipated the Dogger Bank complications and the diplomatic impasse that ensued, but the Secret Elite had to find a solution.
Delcassé, always King Edward’s favourite Frenchman, managed to get both Russia and Britain to agree to take the dispute to The Hague for an international arbitration.29 Russian ministers had no notion of how deeply Delcassé was personally associated with the Secret Elite. He had a vested interest in France remaining on good terms with both Britain and Russia, and knew that delay would only allow the dispute to fester.30
As Russia’s Baltic Fleet sailed ponderously in a seven-month sojourn from its northern habitat,31 it was closely monitored by the Royal Navy, each coaling station noted, each vessel counted and watched. In the preceding years, the Secret Elite had given the Japanese navy access to large quantities of the best quality, practically smokeless, Welsh coal, while refusing to sell Russia even a pound of it, much to the annoyance of the czar.32 Others were more helpful to the Russian fleet. Germany provided 60 coaling barges and France allowed them to use Cam Ranh Bay in French Indochina as a naval base.
For the Russians to be given this vital assistance, virtually on Japan’s doorstep, was viewed as an affront, and the Japanese press demanded that Britain join in the war.33 The Times called on Delcassé to deal with the breaches of neutrality with ‘promptitude and firmness’. In a stern warning, the French were reminded that ‘any action England may take is inspired by the strongest wish to avert the possibility of an incident that might dissolve the entente and compel them to take opposite sides in a great international controversy’.34 This was a breathtaking example of double standards, as Britain had been supplying Japan with warships and coal for a decade in preparation for this moment.
Just days before the two warring fleets faced up to each other, a decision was taken in London to renew the terms of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty. The Secret Elite moved yet another piece on the chessboard of diplomatic intrigue. Lansdowne proposed a stronger alliance in which both Japan and Britain would go to war in support of each other if any country attacked either of them. This was a significant change. So too was the acknowledgement by the Japanese that Britain had the right to ‘safeguard her possessions in India’.35 Problems associated with the defence and security of India had greatly concerned the British Parliament for many years. The complexities of raising and transporting an army to protect her borders had been discussed in detail.36 This was solved by the terms of the new treaty. Japan would act as a guarantor of the British Raj.
On 26 May, with the two opposing navies steaming towards their apocalyptic destiny, the Japanese ambassador presented a draft treaty to Lord Lansdowne that specifically included Britain’s rights in India. The crown jewel had another guardian, a trusted ally who had the ability to react quickly to any threat from Russia or Germany in the future.
Bad though Dogger Bank had been, nothing prepared the czar for the disaster that awaited his Baltic Fleet in the Tsushima Strait between Korea and southern Japan. On 27–28 May 1905, the Japanese navy destroyed two-thirds of the Russian fleet. It had endured a voyage of over 18,000 nautical miles to perish in the Far East. The outcome was so significant that the battle of Tsushima was hailed, even in England, as ‘by far the greatest and the most important naval eve
nt since Trafalgar’.37 Two days of relentless fighting saw the British-built Imperial Japanese Fleet destroy all eight Russian battleships and all three of their smaller coastal battleships. Only one cruiser and two destroyers limped into Vladivostok.
Battle of Tsushima, 27–28 May 1905.
Triumphant in the Far East, the Japanese were rewarded with enhanced international status and a peace settlement brokered by President Roosevelt in September 1905. They gained exclusive rights in Korea and control of the Liaotung Peninsula, including Port Arthur. Russia was forced to pay a huge war indemnity and grant Japan additional fishing rights in their territorial waters.
If this was a momentous victory for Japan, it held even greater significance for the Secret Elite; the real victors were in London. At a stroke, the problem of defending India had been transformed at little cost to the British exchequer. Indeed, the British-built battleships and cruisers had generated immense profits for the City.
During the war, an international consortium including British-owned banking houses like Barings, Samuels and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank raised over £5 billion at today’s value to assist Japan. Almost half of Japan’s war debt was financed through bonds sold mostly in London and New York.38 Money was not a problem. Manipulators at the heart of the Secret Elite, like Esher, facilitated meetings held on Rothschild premises to help the Japanese financial envoy, Takahashi Korekiyo, raise their war chest. While banks with strong links to the Rothschilds were prepared to raise funds for Japan quite openly, the Rothschilds had to tread carefully because of their immense Russian investments, not least in the Baku oilfields. They were also very aware of the political repercussions that might ensue for Russian Jews who bore the harsh brunt of czarist anti-Semitism. That changed once the war was over. The London and Paris Rothschilds negotiated a further £48 million issue to help Japanese economic recovery.39 At every turn the war profits flowed back to the Secret Elite.
Russia’s Far Eastern designs lay in tatters. She had been trounced by land and sea, and was damaged and vulnerable. The warm-water port was gone. Civil unrest was widespread and revolution hung in the air. The ‘Bloody Sunday’ massacre of more than 500 protestors outside the Winter Palace in January 1905 was followed in February by the assassination of the czar’s uncle. By March, the Russian army had suffered an unprecedented defeat in Manchuria. In April, ethnic grievances manifested themselves and in May the unions were demanding universal suffrage and parliamentary government. By June 1905, much of the navy had been destroyed and mutiny broke out on the Potemkin, Russia’s most powerful battleship, in the Black Sea. July riots in Odessa saw over 6,000 civilians killed before a half-hearted step towards constitutional monarchy was proposed in August. In September, famine threatened and in October open revolt shut down factories, transport and manufacturing with 1,500,000 men on strike. November mutinies in Kronstadt were followed in December by a horrific pogrom of Jewish villagers in Odessa. Maltreatment of Jewish communities disgusted fair-minded people in Britain, and Russian influence stood at an all-time low. Time and circumstance favoured a radical move by the Secret Elite. Broken and almost friendless, the czar was ready to grasp the proffered hand from the very people who had reduced his empire to its withered state. Then, unexpectedly, the Kaiser almost stole the prize.
Kaiser Wilhelm had, since June 1904, been courting his cousin the czar to create an alliance between Russia and Germany that would change the face of European alliances. Emboldened by Delcassé’s political demise but still concerned by his claims that the British were ready to go to war,40 the kaiser made a bold move in July 1905. Germany had been very supportive of Russia during the war with Japan by providing the coal for the Baltic Fleet as it headed towards the Far East. In a series of telegrams and letters (released by the Bolsheviks in 1917), Wilhelm sought a new relationship with Russia. He suggested an alliance. Not only would it have undermined the entente but Germany’s historic enemy, France, would have been left to choose either to throw her lot in with Russia, her ally, or abandon Russia and confirm an alliance with Britain. Wilhelm promised Nicholas that once the French realised that the British fleet could not save Paris, they would accept reality and fall in line behind them: ‘In this way a combination of three of the strongest continental powers would be formed, to attack whom the Anglo-Japanese group would think twice before acting.’41 He reasoned that it would guarantee peace in Europe by safeguarding both Russia and Germany.
Reeling from the defeat by Japan, Czar Nicholas secretly signed an alliance on 24 July 1905 on board his yacht moored off the Björkö Sound. No officials from the Russian court were present, no minister knew what had been proposed and agreed. It was to be their treaty. Nicholas was willing to grasp the hand of friendship from his cousin, who argued passionately that Russia had been badly let down by France. The kaiser understood exactly what Edward VII intended, and to reassure the czar he wrote again to him on 22 August 1905 that ‘Britain only wants to make France her “cat’s-paw” [tool] against us, as she used Japan against you.’ It was an impressive assessment. He advised Nicholas that Edward, ‘the Arch-intriguer – and mischief-maker in Europe’, as the czar himself had called him,42 had been hard at work trying to discover precisely what had transpired at Björkö.
Indeed he had. Rumours suggested that some private deal had been struck between the two royal cousins, but no one appeared to know precisely what it amounted to. King Edward asked Benckendorff, the Russian ambassador at London, to go to Denmark to find out what had been agreed.43 He met there with the Dowager Empress of Russia and one of the key figures in the Secret Elite’s network, the Russian ambassador to Copenhagen, Alexander Isvolsky. All were staunch Anglophiles. When Kaiser Wilhelm heard of this, he sent an angry telegram to the czar complaining that Edward had the audacity to use the Russian diplomatic service to his own ends. No one knew what had been agreed until the czar confided to his foreign minister, Count Lamsdorff, that he had signed a secret treaty with Germany on board his private yacht. As King Edward had said of him: ‘Lamsdorff is such a nice man and lets me know all I want to hear.’44 The cat was out of the bag. Suddenly, the Secret Elite were confronted by a potential alliance that threatened to blow their grand plan apart.
How they managed to kill the Björkö Treaty is further testament to the power the Secret Elite extended across Europe. Had it been formally ratified, Björkö would have signalled a realignment that transformed the balance of international alliances.45 This dangerous treaty had to be quashed. Russian newspapers began immediately to attack the kaiser, who complained: ‘The whole of your influential press, Nowosti Nowie Wremja Ruskj, etc., have since a fortnight become violently anti-German and pro-British. Partly they are bought by heavy sums of British money no doubt.’46 His suspicions were not without foundation.
Russia was already in desperate financial straits after Tsushima and in need of fresh loans. The Paris Bourse had deeper, more reliable pockets than the Berlin banks47 and had traditionally been the main source of financial backing for Russia. The Secret Elite threatened to pull the financial plug unless the czar came to his senses. Much to the disappointment of Kaiser Wilhelm, the opportunity to realign Europe towards a greater peace fell before it reached the first hurdle. Czar Nicholas backtracked and the treaty never was, though as Wilhelm bitterly reminded him: ‘We joined hands and signed before God who heard our vows.’48 His desperate appeal fell on deaf ears.
The kaiser was absolutely correct. The Secret Elite was prepared to use any nation as a cat’s-paw, and Russia became the victim of British trickery, manipulated into a different treaty that was designed not to protect her or the peace of Europe but to enable the Secret Elite to destroy Germany.
In their eyes, a vulnerable czar had almost grasped the wrong hand of friendship, and the near-disaster at Björkö focused minds. Despite the alarming evidence of riots in the streets of St Petersburg and the slaughter of protestors at the Winter Palace on Bloody Sunday, King Edward began to court Czar Nicholas with the u
ltimate aim of a three-way alliance between Britain, France and Russia against Germany. The Russian navy was invited to visit Portsmouth at the king’s request, and Russian officers and crew were brought to London and treated lavishly with banquets and nights out at the theatre. Much was made in the pliant press of the public warmth of the London crowds who cheered the Russians. The Times talked of a rapprochement with Russia as a natural and inevitable follow-on to the entente with France.49 While the British public was softened up in anticipation of an alliance with Russia, the Bear was being enticed into a honeytrap.
The Secret Elite drew Russia in with a commitment that they never intended to deliver. Russia was secretly promised control of Constantinople and the Black Sea Straits, following a successful war against Germany.50 This was Russia’s holy grail, her ‘historic mission’. She had long coveted free passage for her warships through the Straits, to the exclusion of all others.51 From the reign of Catherine the Great, Russian leaders had entertained an ambition to control Constantinople in order to have a warm-water port and an unrestricted naval outlet to the Mediterranean. It promised access to trade, wealth and conquest.
For obvious reasons, not least the deafening public outcry that would have followed, the Anglo-Russian Convention signed on 31 August 1907 made no mention of Constantinople or the Straits but was crafted with reference only to Persia, Afghanistan and Tibet. Just as the French Revanchists had been offered the carrot of regaining Alsace and Lorraine, so the secret promise dangled in front of Russia was post-war control of the Black Sea Straits. It was yet another secret deal hidden from Parliament and the people, yet another spurious promise that Britain never intended to keep.
Hidden History: The Secret Origins of the First World War. Page 12
