What a muddle it all is! France and Germany are both anxious to settle in the Ruhr, but are too proud to admit it. The struggle, therefore, goes on, and will continue to the detriment of both. Belgium is sorry she ever entered the Ruhr, but cannot get out of it. Every time she tries to get away France pulls her back roughly by the tail of her coat, so she has to do sentry-go at Essen whilst her franc is leading a wild life at home. Italy has forgotten that she ever sanctioned the occupation, and her moral indignation is mounting rapidly, although it has not yet risen to a height which is visible across the Alps. Great Britain is growling futile notes of dissatisfaction with everybody—France and Germany alike. The confusion of tongues is deafening and paralysing, and no one is quite happy except the spirit of mischief who is holding his sides with ghoulish laughter. He never had such a time—not since the Tower of Babel. And this time it may end in a second deluge.

The horror of the Great War seems to have unhinged the European mind. Nations do not think normally. The blood pressure is still very high. The excitement over the Ruhr does not tend to improve it. When some of the articles written and speeches delivered to-day come to be read by the diligent historian a generation hence, he will recognise there the ravings of a continent whose mental equilibrium has been upset by a great shock. The real issue involved in all this struggle is a comparatively simple one. How much can Germany pay and in what way can she pay? America, Britain, Italy and Germany are all agreed that the only way to settle that question is to appoint competent experts to investigate and report upon it. The Pope also has blessed this reasonable suggestion. France, on the contrary, says it is a question to be determined by guns and generals—both equally well fitted for that task. Germany must present her accounts to the mitrailleuse and argue her case before the soixante-quinze. It is a mad world.

Every one is interested in one question—or perhaps two. How will it all end and how soon is that end coming? Although I have nothing to fear from recalling the predictions of my early articles on this subject, I hesitate to hazard a fresh forecast. But one may review the possibilities and note the drift of the whirling currents. In assessing the chances, you must begin with some knowledge of the man who will decide the event. M. PoincarÉ is possessed of undoubted ability and patriotism, but he is also a man who lives in a world of prejudices so dense that they obscure facts. You have but to turn to one statement in his last note where he says the conferences and ultimatums of the past four years secured nothing from Germany. What are the facts? During the three and a half years that preceded the Ruhr invasion, Germany paid to the Allies in cash and in kind over ten milliards of gold marks,—£500,000,000 in sterling, 2,000,000,000 in dollars—a considerable effort for a country which had but lately emerged out of the most exhausting of wars and whose foreign trade was down sixty to seventy per cent. You might imagine that a man who had taken the grave step of ordering armies to invade a neighbour's territories would also have taken the trouble to ascertain the elementary facts of his case. Part of this gigantic sum went to pay for Armies of Occupation; part for Reparations, but it all came out of German assets. Will the next three and a half years bring anything approximating that figure to the Allied coffers?

It is a safe statement to make that no one in charge of the French movements anticipated a resistance approaching in its stubbornness to that which they have encountered. The friendly Press, both in France and in England, foretold a speedy collapse of the German opposition, and on this assumption all the French plans were based. During the first days of the occupation an Englishman asked a French officer how long he thought it would take. The answer is indicative of the spirit in which the venture started: "Optimists think it will take a fortnight," he said; "pessimists think it may take three weeks." A reference to the January telegrams from Paris and DÜsseldorf will show that this officer accurately expressed the general sentiment of those who were responsible for the Ruhr invasion. Soldiers estimate the chances of resistance in terms of material and trained men, and statesmen too often build their hopes on the same shallow foundation. They never allow for the indomitable reserves of the human heart, which do not figure in Army Lists or Statesmen's Annuals. The resistance of Paris in 1870 was as confounding to Bismarck as the stubbornness of the Ruhr miners is to PoincarÉ to-day. The last regular army had been destroyed, all docketed food stores exhausted, and still the struggle of the devoted citizens went on for months. There were few men in England who thought the Boer peasants could continue their resistance for more than three months after our armies reached South Africa. The three months ran into three years and only then capitulated on honourable terms. The Northern States of America never contemplated the possibility of a five years' struggle with a blockaded, starved and overwhelmed Confederacy. The War of 1914-18 is littered with miscalculations attributable to the blind refusal of rulers and their advisers to recognise the moral element as a factor in the reckoning. The Ruhr tragedy is not the first, nor indeed may it be the last, to be initiated by facile memoranda framed by General Staffs and civilian functionaries, drawing their inspiration from pigeonholes.

Whatever may transpire in the Ruhr it is already clear that the estimates of military men, of transport officials, of intelligence departments, and of presiding Ministers, have been hopelessly falsified. Many more soldiers have been sent into the Ruhr than had been thought necessary: a great deal less coal has come out of the Ruhr than had been confidently expected. There are already as many Frenchmen in the Ruhr as Napoleon commanded at Waterloo; and they have succeeded in sending across the frontier in six months only as much coal as the Germans delivered in one month during the period of "default" which provoked the invasion. Desperate efforts have been made at great cost to increase the yield with a view to satisfying French and foreign opinion that resistance is gradually breaking down. Rubbish is shovelled into wagons in order anyhow to swell the quota. Coal is seized anywhere, even in the streets. And Monsieur Trocquer, the bluff and genial Breton in charge of the transport arrangements, breezily challenges all the critics to look at the mounting pyramids of his dustcart collection and rejoice with him in the triumph of French organisation under his control. Alas, the Celtic fire of Monsieur Trocquer, even when fed by the sweepings of the Ruhr, cannot keep going the blast furnaces of Lorraine! So we find disappointment and discontent amongst the forge-masters of France.

But there is a limit to human endurance. Either France or Germany must give way in the end. Which will it be, and when will it come—and how? In answering these questions one must remember that for France the honour of her flag is involved in success. Failure would irretrievably damage her prestige. Every Frenchman knows that. That is why French statesmen who disapprove of the invasion support the Government in all their proposals for bringing it to a successful end. And here France has a legitimate complaint against her Allies. It is useless for Italy now to counsel wisdom. Signor Mussolini was present at the "hush Conference" which sanctioned the invasion. He fixed the price of assent in coal tonnage. That price has been regularly paid. Belgium is now becoming scared at the swelling magnitude of the venture. But she committed her own honour as well as that of France to carrying it through. I regret to think that Britain is not free from responsibility in the matter. It is true that her representatives disapproved of the enterprise, but not on grounds of right or justice. On the contrary, whilst expressing grave doubt as to the ultimate success of the invasion they wished the French Government well in the undertaking on which they were about to embark. Not one of the Allies is in a position with a clean conscience to urge France to haul down her flag. There is only one course which could be urged on the French Government as being consistent with French honour, and that is the reference of the dispute to the League of Nations. Such a reference would be an enforcement of the Treaty of Versailles. That suggestion the British Government have refused to press on France. The struggle must, therefore, proceed to its destined end.

It may be assumed that the British Government will not intervene effectively. How about the ministerial declarations? Surely these strong words must be followed by strong action! Those who rely on that inference know nothing of the men who use the words or of the forces upon which they depend for their ministerial existence. It is true that some weeks ago Mr. Snodgrass took off his coat and proclaimed cryptically, but fearlessly, that unless peace was restored on his terms something would happen. The French Government, unperturbed, replied that they meant to persist in their course. So last week Mr. Snodgrass takes off his waistcoat. But do not be alarmed: there will be no blows: his friends will hold him back. Meanwhile, Mr. Winkle has left for Paris in order to lunch with one of the combatants. Next week he will be followed by Mr. Pickwick, who will call on another, and the week after Mr. Tupman proposes to pay another propitiatory visit. It will be an incalculable advantage to M. PoincarÉ that they each represent a different and conflicting point of view. The French have accurately taken the measure of the mind and muscle of those who indulge in these spectacular exhibitions of ball punching in Westminster with cakes and ale at Rambouillet. We may therefore assume that whatever conversations take place at these general gatherings or ensue from them, the French will not be talked out of the Ruhr.

From the emphatic declarations made by the head of the French Government it is gathered that France will insist at all costs on enforcing her will. She has put forward two demands. The first is that Germany shall abandon passive resistance as an essential preliminary to negotiation. The second is that her forces should remain in the Ruhr until the last payment is made. Will the German Government accept these conditions? A settlement on these terms is only possible on two assumptions. The first is that a German Government can be found strong enough to accept them and to survive their acceptance. The second is that there is a French Government wise enough to give a liberal interpretation to these demands. The first depends to a large extent on the second.

The events of the past few months have added immeasurably to the difficulties of negotiation. Incidents inseparable from a foreign occupation in any land have exasperated German opinion and reached depths of hatred which had never been stirred even by the Great War—the deportation of 75,000 Germans from their homes in the Ruhr area, the repression, the shooting, the starving, the holding up of food trains until essential supplies rot. The myriad insolences of unchallengeable force, the passions which make French policy so intractable are entirely attributable to the German occupation of France. Frenchmen are now sowing the same seeds of anger in the German breast. Hatreds are bad negotiators. That is why I despair of a real settlement.

But Germany may collapse. She might even break up, temporarily. The authority of the Central Government has already largely disappeared. There is practically no collection of taxes. The mark has gone down in a little over a week from 1,000,000 to the £ to 27,000,000.[3] How can any Government collect taxes in such a fugitive and attenuated currency? You might as well try to collect land taxes on the tail of a comet. The state of the currency is but a symptom of the general disintegration. Berlin has ceased to wield any influence in Bavaria, and the Monarchy might be restored in that Province at no distant date. There is a movement in the Rhineland to set up a Republic freed from the dominion of Prussia. This movement is fostered by French agencies and financed by French subventions. If it is declared Prussia will not be allowed to suppress it. We may, therefore, soon witness a Rhineland Republic whose glorious freedom and independence will be jealously guarded against internal as well as external foes by the coloured warriors of Senegal and Cochin-China. Saxony might be captured by Communists and Prussia be torn between Monarchist and Communist. These are not unlikely happenings. Is it too much to say they are not altogether out of the computation of French statesmanship? If Germany dissolves, then the Rhineland and the Ruhr would remain under the dominion of France. France would not secure reparations, but she would enjoy security, and she would, so it is conjectured, enormously enhance her power in the world. An old French dream would be realised. The work of Bismarck would be undone and the achievement of Napoleon would be restored and perpetuated. There is an old Welsh adage which says that it is easy to kindle a fire on an old hearthstone. This idea of a Rhineland under French domination is the old hearthstone of Charlemagne. Mazarin sought to relight its flames. Napoleon the First kindled on it a blaze that scorched Europe. Napoleon the Third had hopes of warming his chilling fortunes at the glow of its embers, and now the great victory of 1918 has set French ambitions once more reviving the fires on the old hearthstone of a Rhineland ruled by the Frank.

Altogether it is a bad look-out for Europe.

London, August 6th, 1923.

[3] Since this was written the mark has fallen far beyond.